Dancing With Dionysus

Chapter Two

Sabiniano all but tasted the fear coursing through her. She was like a doe cornered by Maenads. He laughed, feeling the god's power building in him. It had been far too long since he'd participated in Dionysus' worship, he thought. This little one's fear was delicious to him, and anticipation gushed through him like sweet wine. He shifted, slipping a knee between her legs and pushing them apart. His cock felt like it would explode, cradled as it was in her softness. The harsh wool still separated them, but not for long, he thought with dark satisfaction. Athena's virgin would be food for Dionysus that night…

He leaned closer to her ear, whispering, "Do you see how my people worship their god tonight, human? See how the pleasure and the pain mix, building in intensity until all becomes one with the divine? That is what I will do with you tonight. You shouldn't have come into my realm, little one, because I have no mercy in my heart this evening."

He laughed darkly, feeling the flutter of her heart within her frail body.

How easy it would be to simply pull up her dress and thrust into the softness.

The pipes and drums coursed through him, making his cock pulsed in response.

She would be soft under him, and he would enjoy her virgin's blood. He pressed his hips down against her body, and to his surprise he moaned aloud in need.

He had forgotten how exciting it could be to fuck a human.

He shivered in anticipation, then nipped lightly at her ears with his teeth.

It was going to be a long night.

Kalliara quivered in fear. There would be no escaping this man. If he was a man…Was he a satyr? Was he the god himself? No, surely not the god. Dionysus wouldn't trouble himself with one stray mortal. She considered biting the hand he held over her mouth. Did she dare?

He thrust himself between her legs, moving sinuously. She felt that traitorous heat rising in her again. The god's presence was powerful, but she had to resist. She focused instead on the calm, cool face of Athena, her own patroness. All her life, the goddess has been there for her. Her spinning was one of Athena's gifts, and it was out of dedication to her that Kalliara had saved her virginity all these years. She was nearly 30 years old, yet she had always refused to take a husband. The goddess required chastity of her followers…

She whispered a prayer, and Athena's coolness washed over her. The goddess was with her. She blocked out the sensation of the man on top of her, thinking only of Athena. Athena would save her. She imagined a sage smile on that stern but beautiful face, and her panic faded away. She knew what to do.

Deliberately, she let her body go limp, and gave a small, pitiful whimper.

The key was convincing her captor she was helpless, she thought. Her traitorous heart whispered that she trulywas helpless.Not as long as the Goddess stands by me , she told herself desperately. Athena helped those women who held true to her ideals; women who weren't afraid to be strong. It was time to be strong.

She wormed her hand down toward her waist, deliberately raising her hips to cradle the man's erection. He shuddered against her. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for escape. Even as she rubbed against him sensuously, she slipped her hand into the pouch holding her spindle, pulling it out slowly to her side. It was a simple tool, a bobbin on a stick. But the stick was strong, the end sharp and pointed.Athena, guide my hand .

Moving as quickly as she could, she slammed the spindle into one of his arms, using every bit of her strength to drive it into his flesh. He tensed, and in that instant she sank her teeth into his hand. Hard. A gush of hot, salty blood rushed into her mouth, and he cried out in startled pain. It threw him off balance long enough that she was able to push him off, rolling out from under him. Viciously, she attacked him again with the spindle, plunging it into his side. Where she found the strength to do so she didn't know, but she felt as if Athena herself was there, guiding her hand. She tried to pull back, to stab him again, but the spindle stuck in his flesh.Run , a voice seemed to whisper in her mind. She obeyed.

She jumped to her feet and took flight into the trees. All around her the pipes and drums wailed, mixed with the howls and screams of the nymphs and satyrs. No one would have heard his cry, although she had no doubt that within seconds he would have the entire group after her. But which way should she go?

A snowy white owl swooped down before her, its soft feathers brushing against her face as it passed. Wondering if she was crazy, she followed the owl, running as fast as her legs would carry her.Could the bird be a guide from Athena? She wondered. There was no way to know. She certainly didn't have any better idea of where to go, though.

Branches tore at her face and clothing as she ran, and with disgust she could feel the worn leather strap of her sandal loosening. She'd needed to get it fixed forever, and now the damn thing might cost her life. It worked its way loose, and then was flopping against her foot, nearly causing her to trip. She paused for a second, trying to tie it. She could hear something crashing through the underbrush behind her. Nearby, the owl hooted urgently. Kicking off the broken sandal, she started running again, ignoring the pain as she hit a sharp stone. Adrenaline kept the pain from slowing her down, but that wasn't going to be enough. She knew she must be leaving a trail of blood. She heard a howl from her captor ringing through the woods; in the distance, a group of Maenads screamed in answer.

The owl flew ahead of her, as a roaring noise grew in her ears. At first she thought it was her own breath. She barely managed to stop in time when she came upon a cliff overlooking a waterfall that fell downwards for hundreds of feet. There was nowhere left to run. She gave out a whimper of defeat. The owl had misled her, and now she was going to die. She sat down, holding her knees up to her chest tightly and started rocking back and forth, moaning in fear.

The owl screeched at her, sounding almost annoyed. She looked up to find it hovering over the waterfall, swooping down and flying back up to her. It was as if it wanted her to jump…

"If I jump, I'll die!" she yelled at the bird, growing hysterical with fear.

"I can't survive a fall like that. I can't even swim!"

The bird screeched again and flew abruptly at her head, beating her face with its wings. A sense of calm washed over her when she realized the bird was trying to save her from something worse than death. Jumping off the cliff would be better than being gang-raped by satyrs, before being ripped apart by Maenads. At least this way she would go quickly, with her dignity and virginity still intact. Athena was giving her a choice, she thought. By jumping, she could control her own time and place of death. Whispering a prayer of thanks to the goddess, she stood and leapt off the precipice before she could change her mind. Cool air rushed by her, and for brief seconds she felt suspended in space. The water rushed up at her like a wall; then it was upon her. The owl screeched in the darkness, and consciousness ended. Her last thought was of the goddess, cool and calm, reaching out to catch her.

Sabiniano growled in anger, feeling that small façade of civilization he cultivated slipping away like a mask as he ran after the human woman. How dare she challenge him? He was master of this island, son of Dionysus himself.

Immortal, powerful! Yet she had felled him with a spindle. It was maddening.

When he caught her she would pay for her transgressions, he thought darkly.

He would rip her apart. No, he would fuck her until she screamed for mercy.Then he would rip her apart. He could still feel the surge of lust and triumph that throbbed through him when she'd started responding to his touch.

How dare she try to escape him? She belonged to him, as did all the humans and creatures of the island. He would teach her obedience if it was the last thing he did.

He caught a new scent as he ran—the smell of blood. He paused, picking up a delicate, worn leather sandal. She was barefoot, and something had cut her. It would slow her down, making her easier to catch. He howled in triumph, and in the distance of pack of Maenads answered. He could feel their hunger around him, and a strange possessiveness came over him. He would not share his little human with them, he decided. He didn't like the idea of them tearing at her soft flesh. She was all his and he would have to make sure the Maenads and satyrs understood that, he thought grimly.

A roaring sound grew in his ears; he realized he was coming up on a waterfall. He knew which one—the girl would be trapped on the cliff, there was no escape. He slowed his pace, allowing a smile to steal across his face. With surprise, he realized that her puny spindle was still sticking out of his side. He reached down and pulled it out, wincing slightly at the pain. He healed quickly, and the wound wasn't deep. He examined the little wooden tool, marveling at the courage it took for a woman, a mere mortal, to attack him with such a pathetic weapon. She was a feisty little thing, and he liked that.

His anger faded a bit at the thought of the fun he would have with her.

Without a thought, he threw the spindle away.

Out of nowhere, something flew out of the darkness at his face. He swatted at it, but it ducked away. It swooped back at him, powerful claws raking his flesh. The wound burned with a pain that he recognized at once as being unnatural.This is no ordinary bird, he thought grimly. It attacked again; this time he waited and struck out at it right before it reached his head. It screamed in protest as he squeezed it, then it abruptly transformed into a tall, beautiful woman with pale white skin. With a cry, he jumped away, his skin burning where he had touched her.

"Who are you to touch my child, Sabiniano?" the goddess Athena asked coldly.

Sabiniano shook his head in disbelief. How dare the goddess interfere with Dionysus' sacred rites? He had never heard of such a thing.

"I dare much, Priest," she said. Her lovely face was without expression; she seemed carved in stone. There was no compassion in those features. He could feel her power radiating across him making his skin crawl. A tiny part of his soul screamed for him to bow down before her, but he focused on resisting.

"This one was the daughter of my Priestess, and she was special to me,"

Athena said, her voice low and smooth. It compelled obedience. "You will pay the price for what you have done."

"Gracious Lady," he replied in a courteous but firm voice. She might be a goddess, capable of destroying him with a word, but he was the son of a god and ruler of the island. She had no right to interfere in his business. "I do not question your love for your priestesses, but this woman belongs to Dionysus. This is his island, and all that live here do so by right. Do you question his sovereignty?"

She gazed steadily at him, not answering. He schooled his features carefully, not wanting to show the triumph he felt; he had caught her. Surely the human woman wasn't worth challenging Dionysus over. Athena had great power, but on this island in the midst of Dionysus' festival, Zeus himself would have been hard pressed to over-power Sabiniano's god.

"I am not a pleasant enemy to have, Sabiniano," Athena said finally. She turned and walked slowly away from him. "Remember that."

In a flurry of white feathers, she transformed back into an owl and flew off into the night. Sabiniano grimaced. It was never good to have a goddess angry with you, but he had his duty to his god. As long as he was High Priest and ruler of the island, no one would take precedence over Dionysus.

He strode off in the direction where he knew the woman must be hiding, coming up short as he stepped on something. It was sharp, and it drove up into the pad of his foot, sending a shooting pain like fire up his leg. He stopped short, lifting his foot to discover the damned spindle he had discarded. With a shock, he realized why it had been such an effective weapon. Mere glamour made it appear to be wood. It was pure silver, stamped with the markings of an Athenian priestess. The goddess' power within it was almost a living thing, crackling about his fingers as he pulled it from his foot.

Shaking his head, he turned to follow the trail of her blood. Strangely, his anger was all but gone. In its place was a sense of anticipation, excitement.

She was a puzzle, one that tantalized and nipped at his brain. How long had it been since anything had interested him like this woman? A long time, indeed…

He loped along the trail sniffing the air for any sign of her. The roar of a waterfall grew in his ears, and a smile transformed his face. He knew the area well; she would be trapped by the cliff. He slowed his pace to a walk, reaching out with his senses to find her.Nothing. He stopped, forcing himself to focus solely on his target. Once again, he felt nothing. Had Athena somehow spirited her away? She would answer to Dionysus if she had, he thought darkly.

He was almost to the cliff, but there was no sign of her. The sound of the water had grown to a roar. A twinge of unease ran through him. Where was she?

Finally he was at the cliff's edge. The trail of blood ended, and he examined the soft earth for her footprints. She had still been wearing one sandal, the other foot left bare and bloody. Her toes had left little hollows in the earth; several white feathers dusted the ground. Realization came over Sabiniano. She was dead; Athena had spoken of her in the past tense. She had thrown herself over the cliff rather than face him.

Some new, terrible emotion filled him. He struggled to recognize it, confused.Grief? Did he feel grief for this human? He had never felt anything like it before; it tore through him like a rough-edged knife, slowly slicing down the length of his chest toward his stomach. He knelt down, touching her small footprint. It was not the first time he had killed. Not even the first time he had killed a human woman. But it was the first time he had killed an innocent, he realized. She was dead, as surely as if he had slain her with his own hands. A part of him seemed to be dying with her. It was unbearable…

He raised his eyes to the heavens and howled, crying out his frustration and regret. He could still feel her trembling against him, still feel the savage pleasure her fear had brought. He felt dirty, disgusting. His howl turned to a keening moan. The Maenads howled in answer, and across the island the cry went up among his people.

Sabiniano mourns, they whispered.We must appease him.