Dancing With Dionysus

Chapter Seven

The grass was perfect for rolling.

Biting him had definitely been a good idea. Too bad she hadn't thought of it earlier, she mused, blowing at a tufted weed. But no sooner had she formed the thought than she could feel his arms around her again, hoisting her back up.

But this time she was cradled against his front, and one of his hands was covering her mouth. No fair.

He walked purposefully, and after a moment's struggle she realized she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. Instead, she just laid her head back against his shoulder and looked at his face. He was beautiful…

His cheekbones were high and sculpted, his eyelashes long and full…It really wasn'tfair,she thought. Her eyelashes had never been as long and full as that.

Why did he get to be immortal and beautiful? All she got was a spindle, she thought darkly. Athena could have thrown in some long, blonde hair. Bigger breasts would have been nice, too.

As soon as the thought was formed, she regretted it. But there was no calling it back, and it niggled at her. Why was Athena forcing her to choose between her life and her honor? It didn't seem very fair that she should have to die to make the goddess happy, let alone die twice. And based on what little experience she had, sex with Sabiniano wouldn't be all that unpleasant. Just thinking about his hand between her legs in the bath sent a wave of warm longing through her. Perhaps she should just—

Before the thought could fully form, he dumped her into something cold and horrible, and she screamed in protest. Fluid rushed into her mouth; cold shock took over her entire system. For an instant she wondered if she was dying again. She couldn't breath. Water. She was surrounded by water.

He had thrown her into cold water.

She kicked out, and her legs made contact with a layer of smooth rocks. Her head burst through the surface. She was in an icy pool, formed by a rock dam someone had built across a wide stream. She coughed, spitting out water, and stood up. Her head felt suddenly clear, and while the colors around her were still bright, they didn't seem to glow in the same way that they had just moments ago. What had happened?

"You were drinking ambrosia," Sabiniano said. She looked around, and found him standing in the water to one side. He had waded in up to his knees before throwing her into the deepest part of the pool. Standing, it barely came to her waist.

She reached up and pushed the wet hair back off of her face in confusion.

"Why did you that to me?" she asked.

"Ambrosia is the wine of the gods," he replied. "Humans aren't meant to drink it. You were drunk, crazed with it. You bit me, by the way. Do you remember?"

"Yes," she replied tightly, thinking of her roll through the grass with embarrassment.

"It didn't occur to me to warn you about the wine," he said, frowning. "I've never had a human guest before."

"Why did you throw me in the water?" she asked, looking down. She realized that the thin fabric was almost transparent when wet and her nipples were tight and hard, clearly visible to him. And he was looking, too. His gaze seemed riveted to her. Blushing, she turned away, folding her hands across her chest.

"Living water breaks ambrosia's hold," he said. "This was the closest place I could think to take you."

"Thank you, I think," she said caustically, leaning over to wring out her hair. She walked slowly toward the bank, and realized she had another problem.

Her tunic was fully transparent. She might as well be naked in front of him, yet she could hardly stay in the water. Her teeth were already starting to chatter. It was a warm, sunny day. If only she could lay out in the sun and allow her clothing to dry…

"Can you look the other way?" she asked. He gave a harsh bark of laughter.

"I've already seen what you have to offer," he said.

"Please?"

"All right," he replied, his tone amused, and turned. She quickly pushed through the water to the bank, and climbed out awkwardly. Barefoot, she ducked behind a bush, calling out to him; "It will take a while for my clothing to dry. If you like, you can go back to the temple and I'll meet you there later."

"Right," he said dryly. "I hardly think so. I will be happy to wait with you while your clothing—or rather, my clothing—dries. Would you like to come out into the sun?"

She hesitated, then realized how foolish she was being. Dry clothing wasn't going to magically appear…at least, not unless he had another of those bags.

And he was right. He had seen her already. It wasn't like she had anything new and different on her body. There were nymphs running wild all over the island and every one of them had more to show than she did…

She stepped out, quickly walking to an open, grassy area and laying down on her stomach. The position, while far from ideal, left her feeling less vulnerable. Resting her arms in front of her, she dropped her head down and closed her eyes, trying to appear relaxed. But her facade of calm was broken seconds later. One moment she was alone, and then he was lying next to her.

One of his legs touched her foot, but other than that he remained separate. It was just enough contact to keep her from blocking out his presence, she thought darkly.

They remained silent for several minutes, and then he spoke.

"Kalliara, we need to talk," he said. "I knowyou are thinking[MT1] of what Dionysus said when he brought you to me. If you don't convert to his worship, I'll have to give you to the Maenads. I don't want to do that."

She remained silent, wondering what he expected from her.

"Will you consider converting?" he asked finally.

"Would you consider betraying your god?"

"No," he said after a pause. "But it's not the same situation. Dionysus is also my father. I don't have a choice."

"Well, my mother died when I was born," Kalliara replied. "And Athena has taken care of me ever since. She's my mother, and I won't betray her. You can do whatever you want, you can even—" her voice broke, "rape me. But I won't betray my mother."

"I don't want to rape you, Kalliara," he said quietly. "I can understand why you might not believe me when I say that, but I give you my word it’s true. I want to save your life."

"Saving my life isn't worth betraying everything I believe in," she replied tightly.

"Why is keeping yourself chaste worth death?" he asked, his voice filled with frustration. "It's ridiculous. What Athena is asking of you is unfair; it's wrong. You shouldn't be in this situation."

"It wasn't Athena who put me here, it was Dionysus," she said in a choked voice. "It's his people—your people who attacked me in the first place. And he's the one who brought me back here to die again. Athena brought me to my parents after I died. I'm grateful for what she did."

"But she killed you in the first place," he said, his voice filling with frustration. "She pushed you off that cliff. She's the reason you died! What do you owe her after that?"

"No, you idiot!" Kalliara said, leaning up on her elbows to glare at him. How could he be so dense? "You'rethe reason I died. I didn't want to get raped, so I ran. And when I got to the cliff, I jumped. Happily. Of my own free will, just to get away from you! Athena didn't force me to do that; I chose to die.

At the time, it seemed like the best choice I could make."

"How could death possibly be better than sex with me?" he asked, his voice rising in frustration and confusion.

"Rape is not sex," she said tightly. "You were going to rape me. And when you were done, you were going to give me over to the satyrs and they were going to rape me. And if I was lucky enough to survive that," she continued, her voice cold and mocking, "I would have been torn apart and eaten by Maenads. Instead I died quickly and painlessly. Athena herself caught my spirit, and she took me to my parents. That's hardly unreasonable of her, now is it?"

He looked at her, stunned. Her face was twisted with the force of her anger, and a new emotion hit him.

Shame.

Since meeting Kalliara he had experienced so many strong feelings. Emotions he'd forgotten he still had. Lust. Anger. Regret. Grief. And now shame, the worst of them all.

"I'm so sorry," he said, realizing the words were inadequate. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I wouldn't have turned you over to the satyrs. I would have kept you."

She snorted in disgust, dropping her head back down.

"That is hardly a comfort," she said coldly. "I'm not even real to you, am I?

You say you would have 'kept me.' I'm not an animal, you know. Until very recently I was a free and independent woman. I have my own thoughts and my own dreams. I don't need you to make decisions for me, and I don't want you to save me. The only one I need saving from is you!"