Dancing With Dionysus

Chapter Eight

She was right.

For the first time, Sabiniano looked at her and realized that, as a human, she had just as many thoughts and emotions as he did…if he respected her, he would have to allow he to make her own decision.

His blood ran cold. He could lose her.

Part of him screamed to stand up and howl, to proclaim his rage across the island. He wanted to tear up trees and frighten his people. He wanted Kalliara to stay with him. But she was going to have to choose him of her own free will, and that wasn't likely to happen.

He could still force her…

Force wasn't an option, he reminded himself. He refused to be that kind of creature again. He had learned; he was better than he was before.

The pain of that realization was almost unbearable.

"I don't want you to leave," he said, his voice filled with raw emotion.

"Will you consider staying with me? At least for a while? I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Do I have a choice?" she asked dryly.

His heart hardened. Lust and anger welled up within him, and he fought to maintain control. He wanted to roll her under him and fuck her until she screamed. Giving her more freedom went against every instinct he had.

He took a deep breath and spoke.

"Yes, you can leave," he said tightly. "But I don't want you to leave. I want you to consider that death is not the only way out of this situation. Athena has already asked too much of you."

"Athena has never asked anything of me that I wasn't willing to give," she said, turning her face to his. He could see tears welling up in her eyes, and he longed to kiss them away. But that wouldn't solve anything.

"I will let you go," he said. "But I ask something in return. I ask that you give me the chance to convince you to join me. I won't force anything on you, but I want you to truly consider what it would be like to stay here."

"Sabiniano, it's not a question of wanting to stay," she said softly. "I don't hate sex, I'm not frigid. Don't you think I know what it is to burn in the night? I choose abstinence because my goddess asks her followers to share her discipline. It has nothing to do with refusing sex for its own sake. I need to avoid temptation to stay true to Athena."

"If Athena wants you to die for her, won't she give you the strength to stand up to temptation?" he asked. "Have you considered that maybe she doesn't want you to die? Have you considered that giving her one life is enough of a sacrifice?"

Kalliara looked confused for a moment, then laughed.

"You're just trying to confuse me," she said. She reached out and touched his face lightly. Her fingers were soft as a butterfly's wings, but they sent a chill all the way to his groin, and he shivered.

"Kalliara, let me kiss you," he said softly. "If you let me kiss you, then I'll escort you to the village and you can see your friends."

"Will you let me go alone?" she asked, testing his newfound tolerance.

"If you let me kiss you," he replied, trying not to growl.

"It's a deal," she replied, blushing slightly.

He leaned over to her, and carefully brushed her lips with his. He knew she was expecting an assault on her senses, so he kept his touch light. He kissed first her upper lip, then moved along to the corner of her mouth. His tongue darted out, tracing the line of her lips without pushing further.

He dropped his head lower, kissing along her chin. She was breathing quickly, and he could see her pulse beating in the delicate contours of her neck. He brought his mouth back up to her lips.

This time she met him, her own lips softening under his touch, and he held back a sigh of triumph. She was definitely responding to him. He nipped at her lips, laving them with his tongue.

"Open for me," he whispered. "I need you."

She did as he asked, and he gently probed her. Her tongue met his shyly. They danced around each other, and he could feel his arousal building. How long would he be able to keep this up? He needed to roll her under him, to plunge into her. Hard. He needed to ride her until they were both gasping for air, whimpering with need.

Instead, he pulled away, deliberately ending the kiss before he lost control.

"Go to the village," he whispered. She nodded her head, clearly shaken.

"I'll be back this evening," she said. "If I choose. If I don't come back, will you let me stay with my friends?"

"No," he said, his face darkening. "I'm willing to give some freedom, but not that. If you're going to make a true choice, I need the opportunity to convince you to stay here. I can't do that if I never see you. Be back by sundown."

"All right," she said quietly. She raised herself slowly to her feet. The tunic she wore was dry, but she was still barefoot. He thought about that night he’d chased her through the trees, following the scent of blood from her cut feet, and guilt tore through him yet again.

"Come to the temple and I'll find you some sandals," he said.

"No, I'll walk from here and get new ones in the village," she replied tartly. "I can go by myself."

"What about your feet?"

"They're pretty tough," she replied, laughing. "At least when I'm not being chased. I'm a village girl, remember? I grew up running barefoot around this island."

He had the grace to look away, ashamed. But she simply laughed again.

"I'm not angry about it anymore, Sabiniano," she said, her voice growing kind. "You are who you are. I guess being dead has changed my perspective a bit. Dying doesn't take long, and the underworld is a good place. I won't be unhappy when I have to go back."

His blood chilled. How could she be so calm about the prospect of being torn apart? He wanted her to be afraid of death; to choose life. To choose him…

Going back to the village was harder than she could have dreamed.

Arriving alone, even if wearing only a tunic, had seemed a good idea at the time. Independence was far more important than appearances. But the looks on the faces of her former friends as she entered were horrified, filled with shock. And fear.

One child ran screaming.

They turned from her, making signs to ward off evil as she walked down the center path between stone buildings. Doors closed, and men who had lived and worked with her father held sticks threateningly. Confused and saddened, she skirted them as much as she could, making her way silently to her own home.

She had expected it to be empty. Instead, she heard a shriek as she approached. There was a blur of terrified activity. A woman—was it Mariana?—grabbed a small child and slammed the door. Kalliara could hear the bolt sliding home on the other side.

"Hello?" she called, cautiously knocking at the door. "Please, let me in! I don't want to hurt you!"

"Please go away," Mariana's voice called out in terror. Kalliara shook her head. She had known this woman all her life; why was Mariana so frightened?

"Please, I didn't mean to take anything of yours, but you're dead. You don't need this house anymore!"

"Well, I’m not dead any more," Kalliara said, feeling somewhat bemused.

Everything looked just as she had left it, yet it was all changed. "All I want is to collect some of my clothing."

"I saw you buried!" Mariana cried. Her tone rose, and a baby started crying.

"I saw your body after they found it below the falls. You're dead! This is my house now! Go away!"

"But—"

"You don't need this house! Go away!"

Kalliara stepped back, wondering what she should do now. She had expected people to be happy she was alive, not afraid. How many afternoons had she and Mariana spent visiting with each other? It hurt to think they would never laugh together again…

But Mariana was right. She didn't really need the house any more. Shewas dead. Or at least she had been, and would be again soon. And who better to have it than Mariana? The woman had been a widow for two years, living with her in-laws and barely scraping out a living. But it would still have been nice to see her home again, and collect some clothing.

With a sigh, Kalliara gave up and started walking away from the house. None of her clothing had been that nice anyway, and her old sandals were long gone.

She assumed Mariana had found her small hoard of coins behind the loose stone near the fire, or would eventually. It was just as well. She didn't need them anymore; Mariana would put them to good use.

As she walked, Kalliara felt sad and lost. She wandered through the small village, doors barred and shutters held closed against her. She was at the center forum before someone dared speak to her. It was Clotenis, the village priest. He wore his formal robes, and carried his staff of office before him in one hand, the entire assemblage slightly askew. Clearly, he had pulled the unusual garb on quickly. Before him, he held an amulet of Dionysus from the village temple.

"Stop, unnatural one!" he cried out dramatically, waving the amulet. "I command you in the name of Dionysus to return to the underworld. You have no place here."

"Dionysus is the one who brought me back," she said wryly. She stopped to face him, putting both hands firmly on her hips. This was getting out of hand.

"I didn't exactly choose this."

He looked startled. A small crowd gathered behind him, watching the showdown intently. Kalliara had to bite back a burst of laughter. How silly they all seemed, terrified to look her in the face. Too bad they hadn't shown her such consideration during her life—she could have used more customers for her small business. For one brief moment she was tempted to wave her arms wildly and jump about, just to scare them. But she bit back the impulse. After all, before her death she might have been afraid of someone back from the dead, too.

"I don't want to hurt you and I'm not a ghost," she said, trying to calm their fears. "The god brought me back for his own purposes. I won't be here long, but I wanted to come and say goodbye. I also wanted to get some new sandals and clothing," she added hopefully.

They stared at her as if she had gone mad, and she sighed in annoyance. Was it too much to ask that even one thing go right?

"We will give you clothing and shoes," the priest said, trying to maintain his dignity. "But after that I will banish you."

She burst out laughing. This was too much.

"How exactly do you plan to banish me?" she asked. "Are you planning to kill me again? Because in a way, that would be doing me a favor…"

His jaw dropped, then he pulled himself together. He looked so ridiculous that she found it hard to believe that she had held this same man in awe for so many years. He had always seemed dignified and important. Now she saw him for what he was—a silly little man, drunk on the small portion of power that came from being priest of this village. It was pathetic. Pitiable, even.

He pulled himself together.

"I will use my powers as Priest," he said, his voice ringing out. The people around him nodded, believing his every word. Had she ever really been one of them, she wondered? It seemed as if her old life was completely foreign. With a wave of insight, she realized that death had changed her in many ways…She was a new person now.

"I just came back to get some clothes and new sandals," she said, sighing.

"And I wanted to say goodbye. To give away my things…"

"I didn't mean to steal your house," Mariana said, stepping forward out of the crowd. She clutched her baby to her, refusing to meet Kalliara's gaze. The woman was clearly feeling guilty, but Kalliara was slightly impressed she’d gained the courage to leave the house and confront her. Perhaps she wasn’t a complete ninny. "But you were dead. We buried you, you were gone. I didn't think it would hurt anyone if I moved in."

"No, it's all right with me," Kalliara said. This was getting tiresome.

"Consider it yours, with blessings from Athena. But can I please have a couple of my dresses back?"

The priest cleared his throat, about to speak again. But before he could, there was a commotion. Irenia, an older woman Kalliara had known all her life, pushed forward.

"I'll take care of the girl," she said, boldly walking toward Kalliara. She gave a sigh of relief; at least one of her old friends would still speak with her. "She may be dead, but I was there when she was born and I washed her body after her death. I'm not afraid of her."

With that, Irenia grabbed Kalliara's arm and pulled her past the crowd. They started walking briskly toward the village outskirts, where the older woman made her home. A burst of startled conversation had broken out among those left behind. Irenia was going to be the target of gossip for a long time, Kalliara thought to herself.

"Thank you for being willing to help me," Kalliara said as they moved away from the small crowd.

Irenia stopped walking, turning to look at her. The woman’s wrinkled, homely face holding a strange expression.

"I don't know if it's really you or not, child," she said, her voice quiet.

"I saw your body. You were pounded on the rocks something terrible. I don't see how you've come back."

"Dionysus brought me back," Kalliara said, patting Irenia's hand gently. She suddenly felt incredibly tired. "He has his reasons, but I don't fully understand them. I believe I'm going to die again at the end of the month."

Irenia stared at her.

"How can you be so calm about this?" she whispered. "You sound as if you don't care—the dying, the coming back. And what's this about dying again?

Aren't you already dead?"

"I don't feel particularly dead," Kalliara said, shrugging. "The rest is a long story, and while I'm happy to share it with you, I'd like to sit down and rest. It's been a rough day for me."

"I'll bet it has," Irenia replied, shaking her head. Then her sense of hospitality kicked in. "We'll get you some warm tea and talk all about it. And some clothes, too. That tunic you're wearing is beautiful, but it's hardly decent for a young woman of your age."

"I think I've forgotten what 'decent' is," Kalliara said. She laughed, startling herself. "You'd be surprised at what can seem normal after you've been to hell and back…"

Sabiniano paced his balcony, waiting for her to return. He had been in a foul mood all day. Why would she choose to walk to her human village barefoot, rather than accept his help? It was maddening. In his frustration he had roared at the nymphs and satyrs who served him until they trembled in fright.

Now all his people had fled into the forest. He knew they were whispering about him among themselves, that they would be watching him during the coming days for signs of weakness. Or madness. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

All he could think about was Kalliara.

The sun dipped low in the sky; soon it would time to go after her. Why had he been so foolish as to believe her excuses? For all he knew she been planning to escape even as she assured him she would return. After all, there were a number of fishing boats in the village. She would be a fool to believe that she could get away him, let alone Dionysus. But that didn't change the fact that she was still gone.

It was intolerable.

The sun was almost fully set now.

He turned, walking into the temple with a heavy heart. He hardly knew why he was so disappointed. He didn't know what he had expected, after all. It wasn't as if she were with him voluntarily. How could he have been so stupid as to believe her promises? Now it was time to take her back, teach her who ruled Naxos. He stopped, forcing himself to let the disappointment go. In its place was anger, an emotion he could understand.

An emotion he knew how to express.

He strode through his room out into the main temple, his anger building with each step. How dare she defy him? This washis island, and she washis prize. He had been foolish to give her even a limited amount of freedom. And he had been foolish to think he could convince her to abandon Athena and stay with him. He would take her, and at the end of the month he would keep her. His father may have decided she should die, but Sabiniano would talk to him. He had served for thousands of years. He had earned this one boon; Dionysus could hardly deny him…

As he strode out the door, a small gathering of his people watched from the forest edges. Normally there would be music in the air. The wine would be flowing freely. The festival was barely a week old, hardly started. It was time for revelry, yet he could hardly bear to look at them. If anything, they disgusted him. He wished he was lying between her clean, white thighs. There he would forget his boredom, his frustration. But she had left him.

The embers of anger flared to life, building within him.

Ignoring the trembling satyrs, he stalked purposefully toward the village.

Time to retrieve his woman. Around him, the wind rose. The white, fluffy clouds seemed to pull together, and in their center darkness grew. Within moments the sun was shaded. The woodland creatures shivered, crawling into their burrows, and a chill fell across the island. Sabiniano continued his steady walk toward the village. There was a rushing sound in his ears. His own blood. How dare she do this to him?

In the distance the Maenads caught his mood, and raised their voices in an eerie howl.

The wind built in speed as he moved, howling across the hills. Tree branches waved wildly. The dying sun was all but gone in the clouds, no more than a fading dim glow against the horizon. He would destroy them all, he thought darkly. The villagers would die, pleading for mercy. There would be none.

Sabiniano crested a hill, and could see the village in the distance. Above it stood the tower that guarded the small harbor, beyond which were the masts of their pathetic fishing boats. His fury grew. Had she tried to take one of those boats and leave him?

With a cry of rage, he raised one hand and the sky roared in answer. Thunder crashed, and a bolt of lightning flew down at his command, striking one of the masts. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. These humanswould pay for stealing his woman, he thought. Red fury swirled at the corners of his vision, and he laughed out loud. First he would destroy their homes, and then he would destroy them. No one took what belonged to Sabiniano and lived.