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In response to the flexing of his muscles, pain shot through his arms and chest. He welcomed it. The pain

reminded him of his banishment and the reason for it. He had been bespelled for generations because of his

weakness. What perfect irony. He was a beast. He had physical strength that no mortal man could match, yet

weakness had caused him to betray his duty, and, ultimately, himself.

Not again. I will not allow it to happen again.

Then his mind cleared as a new thought formed. Perhaps all of this—the dreams of her, the awakening and

now the return of the agony of his desire—perhaps it was all part of the goddess’s test.

Yes . . . he straightened, sheathing the daggers that were his claws. It did make sense. Hecate was providing

him the opportunity to regain her sacred trust. He was being tempted so he could prove to her that it would

not happen again.

Never again would he betray his goddess and his realm.

He would perform his goddess-appointed duties as Guardian of the Realm of the Rose. And when it was time

for Beltane’s Spring Ritual, he would complete his charge, sending this new Empousa to meet her destiny.

With a mighty effort of will, the Guardian repressed the longing within him. He would not give in to his

weakness again. For countless generations he had protected Hecate’s magickal realm. He had been ever

Vigilant. He had been tireless in his devotion. And he had been alone, even during the brief moments when he

had imagined that his solitude might come to an end.

He remembered the pain of discovering just how wrong he had been and knew that the misery of that

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rejection had been greater than all the years of loneliness that had preceded it.

What the last Empousa had said had been true. He was a beast. A woman might become fond of him, might

treat him with compassion, as she would a favorite cat or an especially loyal hound, but a woman could never

truly love a beast. It mattered little that the goddess had gifted him with the heart and soul of a man. The heart

and the soul were within the body of a beast. It was his destiny to be alone, and destiny could not be changed.

With one last look at the new Empousa, he turned away. Duty. That must be his life.

But part of my duty is to ensure the Empousa’s safety . . . to make certain she is well cared for . . . The man

within him whispered temptation. Would any of the handmaidens remember that the Empousa must eat and

drink after the ritual to ground herself? Of course not. And she . . . He paused and glanced over the corded

muscle of his shoulder at where laughing women surrounded her. She was so inexperienced she had to be led

In the casting of a circle. She would not know that she must ground herself and use food and drink to

replenish her strength. Again, he forced his gaze from the Empousa. Snarling a hasty command, he drew

darkness closely about him and made his way unseen from the temple celebration. When he was clear of the

crowd, he picked up his pace, clenching his teeth against the pain that radiated from leg muscles that had just

the day before been dead stone. It is only another part of my duty as Guardian to order her meal prepared

and to be certain that she partake of it. Yes, only another part of my duty . . .

His cloven hooves thudded against the soft ground with a shy, secretive voice that seemed to echo the word

liar . . . liar . . . liar . . .

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CHAPTER TWELVE

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