Mae eased back on the bed, bringing him down with her. “See?” she said, as though she could read his thoughts. “You aren’t just my easy outlet for implant-driven lust.” A mischievous smile played over her face. “Though I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some of that going on too. Still, you’re going to have to find another excuse this time.
What’ll it be?” She paused to trail her lips down his neck. “You don’t do second dates? I hold no appeal anymore? I was an idiot to believe those things before, and I won’t this time either. You’re going to have to come up with something really convincing if you want to get out of this.”
“I don’t want to,” he said, voice ragged. And it was the truth. Her body was pressed to his, her eyes an endless sea of blue and green. He wanted to give into this power that kept bringing them back together.
He wanted to feel her bare flesh against his, to lose himself in her, her and a world where there were no other political and godly complications. Unfortunately, no matter how much he pretended, he wasn’t sure such a world existed.
“I don’t want to,” he repeated. “But—”
“Then no buts,” she said. Despite the obvious passion burning through her, there was something canny in her eyes that made him think she’d been bracing for this conversation. “I’m done with games. I know how I feel about you, and nothing’s going to change that, no matter how infuriating you are. Blow off dinner tonight and stay here with me. Or if you don’t want to do it here, we’ll go to my place. We’ll stay in bed all night and make love and talk and you can finally get out from under all those secrets that burden you and tell me why you kept pushing me away. And then we’ll make love some more.”
She kissed him again, momentarily throwing off the response he’d been starting to formulate. He felt like his whole life was balancing on a razor’s edge, and the easy thing, the thing he wanted most, was to jump off with her. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to forget, the memory of those words spoken in that fateful dream came back to haunt him, as they so always did: You’ll know her by a crown of stars and flowers, and then when you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me.
The old panic seized him, and later, he would wonder if he would’ve felt differently if Hansen hadn’t called just before she arrived.
Maybe if he hadn’t had that reminder fresh in his mind, the consequences of swearing loyalty to a god wouldn’t have mattered. But Hansen had called, and through Justin’s haze of desire, an image came to him of a lifetime of service to Odin, leading around a congregation of other Hansens, forced to bring others to the fold and jump at the god’s whims.
Mae saw that fear in him when Justin broke away, and she tried to pull him back. “No,” she said. “No more lies.”
“I’m not going to tell you any lies,” he said, struggling to sit up.
“I’ll tell you the truth—as much as I can, at least.”
She sat up with him, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed. That almost broke him, almost brought him back to the bliss of her arms and her lips and the rest of her body. And then those words resounded in his mind once more: When you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me.
He clasped her hands in his, fearful even of the temptation of that small touch, and met her gaze squarely. “Listen to me. You’re right— what I said, the second date nonsense and all that—were lies. Lies born out of both fear of any kind of real human connection and fear of . . . well, some other things I’ll try to get to. But here’s the truth. There’s no one else for me but you. I knew it in Panama, when I looked at you and the whole world stopped, but I was too foolish to acknowledge it then. I don’t think I really, truly accepted it until we were in Arcadia, when I had to come to terms with the possibility of never seeing you again. All those other flings I’ve had are just ashes in the wind, shattered and forgotten. But you . . . you’re the real thing. The fire that keeps burning in my life. You’re the one. There’s no one else I feel this connected to.
And if I could do all those things, stay with you, make love—with the lights on—tell you everything that weighs on me, I would. Believe me, Mae, I would. But—”
“Justin—” She reached for his face, but he pushed her hand away.
“No, listen. As much as I want to—and believe me, I do—there are still forces at work bigger than both of us that don’t necessarily have our best interests at heart. You said when you were out there you saw things that made you believe in the goodness of the gods . . . well, I’m still not sure. And I can’t explain it, but if you and I are together, if we cross that physical line again, there will be consequences neither of us can change.”
“So, what, then? No physical line?” she asked. “Is that what you need?”
For a moment, he considered it. Was it possible . . . a non-physical romance? Neither of them had a history that suggested they’d be able to pull that off. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t happy in just her presence.
He was, and he didn’t want to lose that . . . but he didn’t trust himself—or her, for that matter. They’d slip one day, unable to resist, and he’d end up back in her arms and Odin’s service.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, at least not until I know more,” he said at last.
Mae was quiet for several moments. “How can you say these things to me? How can you tell me you want me, that I’m the only one . . . but that we can’t be together?”
“I can only imagine how it sounds,” he admitted.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think you can. What else is there? What else aren’t you telling me?”
That you were the woman a god picked out for me, and binding myself to you binds me to him.
He could’ve spoken those words, and maybe she would’ve understood. Except, the thing was, Justin was afraid she wouldn’t understand, that she would tell him service to a god was worth the price of their happiness. And looking at her now, at that lovely face and eyes filled with affection, Justin wondered if he might end up agreeing with her.
“I can’t tell you yet,” he said, releasing her hands. “I would if I could. If we could be together, if there were an easy way, I swear it, Mae—I would. But I can’t right now. I’m sorry.”
“Justin—” The hurt in her voice made his heart ache, but whatever else she might have said was cut off when he heard a sound at the door.
It was mostly closed, but someone pushed it open now, and he heard Rufus say, “Praetorian Koskinen? Are you—oh.” The man appeared in the doorway, immediately assessed what was happening and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I—”
“No.” Mae stood up from the bed and ran a hasty hand over her eyes. “It’s okay. I was just leaving. Is something wrong?”
Rufus still looked deeply flustered. “No, ma’am. I just wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know if Dr. March told you, but I’m leaving, and this is my last night.”
“No,” said Mae stiffly. “He’s told me a lot of things tonight—but not that. Come on, I’ll walk you out. He needs to finish getting ready anyway.”
Justin thought she’d leave without another glance, but she paused in the doorway and looked back, her heart in her eyes. One word, Justin thought. One word, and she’ll come back to me.
But he didn’t say it, and Mae gave a nod of farewell. “Have fun tonight.”
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER 26
Lights Off
Mae held it together as she thanked Rufus for his service and urged him to get back in touch, should his circumstances change. She even held it together when the March family told her goodbye, resulting in hugs from Cynthia, Tessa, and Quentin and stories of how they’d worried for her as much as Justin on the trip. It wasn’t until she was on the train, headed back downtown, that Mae started to lose it.
Unacceptable, she told herself, forcing back tears. I am a soldier.
I’ve fought for my country and risked my life countless times. I won’t break down now like some adolescent just because a boy told me “no.”
Except, Justin hadn’t exactly told her no. That was what had hurt the most. How did someone do that? How could he say that she was the one, that he’d never had that kind of connection with another woman . . . and then turn away? Mae had had men shower her in gushing words for her entire life, praising her beauty and going overboard with all the grandiose things they’d do for her to prove their love. No one had ever put it so simply: There’s no one else for me but you. And those simple words had struck her with more power than any other elaborate declaration could have—which is why it had hurt so much. She almost wished he’d lied to her again. Almost.
“Praetorian Koskinen?”
A voice called to her in the crowded station as she stepped off the purple line, and it took her a moment to orient herself and find the speaker. When she did, it was no one she’d expected—or really wanted—to see.
“Mr. Devereaux,” she said formally, as Geraki approached her.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
“You don’t look like you mean that,” he said. “Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’re happy to see anyone just now.”
“It’s been a complicated night,” she said bitterly, nearly laughing at her own understatement.
“Is there any way I may be of assistance?” he asked, in a genteel way that contrasted with the religious zealot persona she associated with him.
“I don’t think anyone can help, but thanks. I need to get home.”
He caught her arm, and she almost welcomed the rush of endorphins brought on by a potential threat. The look in his eyes, however, suggested no fight, just more unsolicited advice.
“That’s not true,” he told her. “The part about no one being able to help you, that is. Sometimes it may seem that way on earth, in human affairs, but there are higher powers able to strengthen and sustain us.”
This time, she did laugh, surprised she’d find amusement in something so absurd. “Are you trying to convert me in the middle of a subway station?”
“No need,” he said gravely. “From what I hear, you’ve already taken up quite nicely with a goddess.”
“How do you—” A startling, impossible thought hit her. “You . . . you sent me the amber knife.”
He sketched her a bow. “I’d say ‘guilty as charged,’ but I have nothing to feel guilty about. The Lady wanted to connect to you, and I simply helped make it possible.”
Mae was stunned. She’d meant what she’d told Justin, that her experience in the wilderness had been life-changing. The goddess had held true to her word, delivering and protecting Mae, and that sense of communion and life had been glorious. Mae wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about that now. She’d just been thinking that there might truly be something to serving a goddess like that . . . but now, that image was tainted knowing Geraki was involved.
“You serve her too?” Mae asked.
“No, no,” Geraki chuckled. “I serve a different god, but they are allies, and I have great esteem for her. That was how I came to be the messenger.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Mae, feeling slightly relieved. “That they were allies. But I mean, I don’t really know much about her yet . . . or anything about your god.”
“No?” He generally seemed surprised at that. “Our mutual servitor friend has never mentioned my god?”
“Justin? No, why would he?”
Geraki’s expression was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “No reason at all, I suppose. Never mind him. If the Lady has brought you any sort of fulfillment at all, then I’m glad.”
“She has,” said Mae softly. “Though I still don’t know what to make of it. Or what I want.”
“Then I’ll give you some quick advice because I see the blue line pulling up. Find out what you do want from her, and you may find that whatever else is bringing you down doesn’t matter so much. My master tells me she’s led you true so far. If you let her continue to do so, you may find petty and human affairs are exactly that: petty and human. Good luck.”
He started to turn for his train, but this time, she held him back.
“Wait—what is her name?”
Geraki hesitated. “Generally the elect must earn their gods’ names.
Only those engaged in simple worship get them easily.” Something in her face must have touched him because he finally said, “Freya.”
“Freya,” repeated Mae, the word tasting of power.
“Look to her.” Geraki’s expression softened a little. “Not to whoever’s broken your heart.”
He disappeared into the crowd, and Mae stood there a moment before continuing on her way, heading up to street level. She said the goddess’s name over and over in her head as she walked home, wondering if Geraki—madman that he was—was right. When the pressures of her home life had reached a breaking point, Mae had found purpose in answering the higher call of the military. Was it possible now, in the midst of romantic turmoil, that there might be something for her she’d never dreamed of in the service of this goddess? It was a startling revelation, especially considering Mae’s rocky start with the Morrigan.