Joanna Wylde - Dancing With Dionysus

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Dancing With Dionysus
©Joanna Wylde, 2002
Chapter One
"Faster," the nymph told Kalliara coldly. "You need to spinfaster, and more
finely, or we'll give you to the Maenads. It's your choice."
Kalliara felt as though a ball of fire was burning in her stomach. It took
every bit of her strength just to hold her composure. She gripped her spindle
tightly, and looked up into the nymph's eyes. The creature was beautiful, with
pale green skin and darker, riotous green hair that hung down in waves to
below her waist. Her shimmering gown was created from woven thread so perfect
that not even a spider's silk could rival it.Never in a thousand years will I
be able to spin thread that delicate , Kalliara thought in desperation.
She was going to die here. She knew it.
"Gracious Lady," she whispered, fighting back her tears. She kept her words
formal, hoping to appeal to the nymph's vanity. "I cannot do as you ask. No
mere mortal will ever be able to spin thread such as that produced by you and
your sisters."
The nymph's beautiful features twisted into a sneer. Around them, Kalliara
could hear the other nymphs laughing, like the sound of a thousand tiny silver
bells. How could beings so beautiful be so cruel? They knew her task was
impossible. They were simply playing with her before they killed her…
"Mortals are so foolish," the nymph said, shrugging. "You really should have
considered that before you boasted of your skills. By challenging us, you
sealed your own fate."
"I didn't challenge you," Kalliara whispered. She could feel the tears
welling up again, and she bit her lip sharply. The salty taste of her own
blood filled her mouth, and the sharp pain of the bite distracted her. She
took a deep breath and continued. "I have never claimed to spin better than
any of Dionysus' children. I don't know where you heard that I had, but I
assure you it never happened."
"Well, some human said something about it," the nymph said, waving a hand
languidly. "I can't be bothered to try and tell you apart. Once we heard such
a thing, we could hardly let it stand, could we? Now spin for us, little
human. Prove your skills or pay our price. And spin quickly. The waiting grows
tedious."
Kalliara ducked her head, and started spinning again. Steadily she wound the
coarse wool between her fingers, trying to make the thread as smooth as
possible. As the spindle slowly dropped toward the floor and the length of
thread grew, she couldn't help but feel some pride in her work. The thread was
lovely, without lumps, strong and smooth. But it would never rival the thread
spun by the nymphs of Dionysus. She was definitely going to die.
Soon they would give her to the Maenads, crazed women who would rip her apart
with their bare hands. This was Dionysus' island, and tonight was his
festival. The god of birth and death would show her no pity, she knew that
already. She had never been one of his children.
She tried not to listen to the low, tinkling murmur of the nymphs and dryads
around her. Even as they tormented her, they prepared themselves to celebrate
the god's festival. Soon revelry would overtake the island. They would drink
and dance with the satyrs, while the Maenads raged around them, drunk on the
god's power. Wise humans kept themselves locked in their stone houses on
nights like these, praying for mercy. But Kalliara's home was miles away, on
the other side of the small speck of land that Dionysus had claimed as his
own. Few humans lived on Naxos by choice, and those who did had learned to be
cautious—
One of the nymphs gave a shriek, a combination of surprise and fear.
Kalliara's head jerked up. All around her, satyrs were pouring into the wooded
clearing where the nymphs held her prisoner. Enormous, standing taller than
any man in the village, the satyrs terrified her. Their bodies rippled with
muscle, dark and tanned from the sun. They swept in, laughing and leaping,
grabbing up the nymphs. Their hair flew in all directions, and many had bushy
beards. Wild creatures, completely uncivilized, their upper halves resembled
those of men, but their legs were those of goats.Aroused goats, she realized
with a shudder.
Their penises were large and erect. Right before her eyes, one of the satyrs
grabbed the cruel nymph who had tormented her. He threw her to the ground,
ripping at her clothing and thrust himself between her legs. The nymph
screamed, but her legs wrapped around his waist and she held him tightly as he
rode her. Bile rose in Kalliara's throat.
She suddenly realized that for the first time since they'd taken her, the
nymphs weren't paying attention to their captive. This was her chance to get
away, if she moved quickly enough. She pulled the length of her shawl up and
over her head, and ducked down. For once she was grateful that she'd never
been able to afford expensive dyes for her clothing. The dun-colored wool
would serve her well as camouflage while she made her way across the island at
night.
She raised her spindle to her mouth, biting through the thread to free it.
The silliness of her actions startled her—of all the things to worry about at
a time like this, keeping her spindle should be a very low priority indeed.
But in the time it took her to think it, the spindle was free and tucked in
the cloth pouch that dangled from her belt. She scuttled across the clearing,
ducking between satyrs and nymphs, trying not to take in what was happening
around her. They were coupling wildly, gripped by the ecstasy and violence
that only the god could induce. It sickened her.
At last she was on the outskirts of the clearing, scrambling through the
brush. She paused to catch her breath when a new sound filled her ears. It was
the high, keening shriek of the Maenads. They were near, and if they found her
she would die at their hands. She had to keep moving.
She pulled herself to her feet, desperately clutching the folds of her shawl
around her head.
Time to go.
* * * * *
There was something different in the air, Sabiniano thought, setting down the
scroll he was reading. It was the eve of the mid-winter festival, and all
around him his people were starting their revels. He could sense their every
movement, smell their lust. Already they were drunk. The Maenads roved through
the forests, looking for their victims and dancing in praise of the god. All
of that was as it should be. But there was something else.
Slowly he walked through the temple of Dionysus, passing through the broad
pillars and out onto the porch. The temple stood on the highest point on the
island, and from his vantage point he could see across the wooded hills all
the way to the ocean. The moon was full, casting silvery light across his
domain. He sniffed the air, closing his eyes to focus on the scents around
him. There was a group of satyrs and nymphs, fucking wildly. Nothing of
interest. He could smell the Maenads, too. They had found a deer, and were
cornering it. Soon they would rip it apart with their bare hands, drinking the
blood. Once again, nothing of interest to him. There were many ways to worship
the god. Sabiniano knew all too well how the smell of blood pleased Dionysus.
He turned, extending his senses further. He could feel the fear radiating
from the humans who lived at the small port. They, too, existed to serve the
god, providing his people with what little they desired from the outside
world. The humans were locked in their small stone houses, calling on Dionysus
to keep them safe. Sabiniano snorted in amusement. He knew how little Dionysus
cared for these souls under his protection. The humans would live tonight, but
only because they served a purpose. He had long forbidden his people to enter
their village during the festival. When the god touched them with his madness,
the temptation to rape and kill was too strong. Dionysus was many things, but
never gentle.
There was more fear. Here and there across the island were small groups of
humans. He tested each of them—some were women who had come to join the
Maenads. Their fate was out of his hands; either the god would accept them or
he wouldn't. In another place he sensed two teenage boys. They had snuck out
of their parents' homes, daring each other to spend a night in the forest
during the festival. Sabiniano wondered idly if they would survive the
night…they had found a good place to hide. He could smell their strength and
vitality, and smiled. Such daring was appealing to the god. They would
survive, although perhaps not with their virginity intact. The nymphs and
dryads were fond of tasting human meat between their thighs.
Still further he reached out, until he found what he was looking for.
Something unusual, a woman running through the trees. She smelled like fear,
like the village. When would the villagers learn to stay inside at times like
this? he thought in disgust. Her fear would excite the god; there would be
little mercy for her if the satyrs caught her. He breathed in the air more
deeply, then stopped in shock. No wonder she smelled different. This was no
child of Dionysus; this woman worshipped Athena, and she had invaded their
sacred rites.
Sabiniano tensed, opening his eyes and squeezing his fists in anger. She was
an interloper; she would be punished. How could he have missed her presence on
the island? She was a villager. How long had she been in their midst, existing
beneath his notice? Sabiniano reached back into his memory, searching for the
last time he had gone amongst the villagers and inspected them. With a shock,
he realized it had been more than a century. He shook his head in
self-disgust. He had allowed his boredom to interfere with his duty to
Dionysus.
Time to go find the woman.
* * * * *
Kalliara ran through the trees, gasping for breath and clutching her dress up
around her knees. She had no idea where she was, no idea how to find the
village, but to stop running was to die. She burst into a clearing, uncertain
of which direction to go. All around her were predators. In the distance she
heard the sound of drums and pipes playing. She froze, trying to control her
breathing.More satyrs? She wondered.
Instinctively, she ducked into the brush ringing the clearing, pulling as
much of it over her body as she could. The music grew louder, and with horror
she realized they were coming directly toward her. Filled with dread, she
ducked her head into the ground, praying to Athena to protect her from them.
The rich, loamy scent of the earth filled her nose. The drums grew louder, and
the pipes wailed like living things, screaming into the night for release.
Against her will, she felt some of the god's wildness coming into her. The
air itself was filled with it, and the earth felt warm and soft against her
skin. Unable to control her curiosity, she opened her eyes and looked up just
enough to peek through the brush at the musicians. A procession of satyrs and
nymphs was entering the clearing, clutching skins of wine and drinking deeply.
The satyrs were the most frightening. Their eyes were wild, and with a shock
she realized that they had horns sprouting from their foreheads. They danced
naked, their erect cocks jutting proudly into the night air. One threw his
head back, dropping a hand to stroke himself lewdly. His hips thrust against
his hand, and he howled with pleasure.
Then a nymph, her body brown and speckled, came up and rubbed herself against
him. She reached up, draping her arms around his neck, and pulled him down
toward her for a kiss. Sinuously wrapping one of her legs around his body, he
reached down to hold her, digging his fingers into her ass. With a cry, he
threw the nymph down to the ground, wrenching her legs apart. She clawed at
him with her fingernails, and small rivulets of blood started running down his
back. He howled again, and thrust himself into her cunt, humping at her like a
maddened dog.
Kalliara realized she was holding her breath. She'd never seen anything like
this before; she didn't know what to think. All around the clearing, the
nymphs and dryads were flinging off their clothing. A wild dance was starting;
they leapt and circled to the wail of the pipes. The beating of the drums grew
louder until it filled her ears and pounded through her. It was a rhythmic
pounding. The satyrs thrust their cocks against the night air, then started
grappling the nymphs and pushing them to the ground.
One couple landed on the ground directly in front of her. She could smell the
hot musk of the satyr, and hear the nymph shriek in pleasure and triumph. They
rolled with each other, the nymph scrambling out of his reach directly into
the arms of another satyr. He grasped her shoulders, pushing her to her knees
until his enormous erection touched her mouth. With a sensuous smile, she made
a purring noise and parted her lips. She pulled him in slowly and steadily,
and he threw his head back with a growl.
The second satyr crawled up behind her. He grasped her around the waist,
pulled her body back against his. Kalliara could see his enormous cock jutting
against the nymph, hard and smooth. A tiny vein pulsed up along its length to
the wide, flaring head. A pearl of fluid beaded up on the tip, and the satyr
shuddered. He pulled the nymph's legs apart, fingering the wet hole that
awaited him. In fascination, Kalliara watched as he fitted his cock head
against the hole, then thrust in slowly and steadily. How could such a large
object fit into the nymph's small body? She wondered. It was amazing,
mesmerizing.
The satyr grunted in satisfaction, gripping the nymph's waist tightly. Then
he started thrusting against her hard, slamming her head forward into the
other satyr's cock. The three creatures twisted against each other in dark
pleasure, the nymph a full participant in the seeming violation of her body.
The earth seemed even warmer beneath Kalliara, and she felt a hot moistness
growing between her legs. Dionysus' magic—thick with sex and violence—hung in
the air like a tangible thing.
The threesome pounded away at each other for long moments, their movements
growing more and more frantic. Finally, the satyr who was still standing
pulled his hard length from the nymph's mouth, spraying her with white, ropy
lengths of his seed. She cried out, and the satyr behind her pushed her upper
body down into the ground. Now only her hips remained high, the satyr ramming
into her again and again. She clawed at the earth, moaning and shuddering as
he came into her one last time. His buttocks spasmed and he grunted, howling
his pleasure. Immediately they leapt to their feet, rejoining the dance. The
whole thing seemed like a dream.
She raised her eyes, looking across the clearing. Almost all the dancers were
coupling now, satyrs and nymphs, even satyrs and satyrs. Every hole was
filled, every hand groped at the bodies surrounding it. They squeezed and
clawed in their madness for each other, and screams cut across the music as
often as moans. Another grouping caught her eye. Three green nymphs had
captured a satyr. One held his legs, and another his arms, while a third rode
him wildly, holding the length of his beard like a bridle. He thrust up at
her, struggling desperately to get free.
Three other satyrs stopped dancing and fell upon them. Two grabbed the nymphs
who had been holding their brother's arms and legs, falling upon them like
starving men on food. The third pushed the nymph down across the satyr she was
riding. Her victim cried out in triumph, pulling her mouth to his for a brutal
kiss. The creature behind her rubbed his hard cock several times then fitted
it against her tight, green ass. He thrust into her with a triumphant shout,
and she cried out, pushing herself up on her arms. Pinned between the two men,
she could only brace herself against their thrusts, moaning with every
movement. Kalliara shuddered, and a tear of terror ran down her cheek. How
would she survive if they caught her?
Even as the thought formed, she felt a heavy weight come down on her. A hand
came around, covering her mouth, and another pulled the shawl from her head.
The body on top of her was hard and male. She could feel the tensed strength
in every inch of him. He was breathing slowly and steadily, and to her horror
she could feel something thick and hard pressing against her ass.
It was too late; she was caught.
She breathed deeply, trying to control her panic. Then a deep, rumbling voice
spoke in her ear.
"What do you think you're doing on my island, little human?" the voice asked,
its tone cruel and mocking. "You don't belong here, and now you're going to
pay the price."
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.
Chapter Three
Mount Olympus
“Hello, Athena," Dionysus said languidly, leaning against the door frame.
Athena looked up with a look of cool distaste from the scroll she was
carefully writing. Behind him stood the figure of her High Priestess, Mercia,
wringing her hands fearfully. With a sigh, Athena waved a hand at the woman in
dismissal.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure, Dionysus?" she asked, setting down her
stylus. "You've certainly succeeded in terrifying my staff."
"I understand you paid a visit to my son," he said, maintaining his relaxed
pose. He lifted one finger, examining the nail carefully. Athena leaned back
in her chair, eyeing him. He was tall and muscular, with fair skin and
piercing green eyes. His face was the portrait of physical perfection. Full,
sensual lips. Chiseled features. Dark, curly hair just long enough for a woman
to run her fingers through…none of that impressed her, however. Beneath that
façade of beauty, he was cold and heartless.
"I prefer not to be disturbed when I'm in my study," she said finally. He
quirked an eyebrow at her, his expression mocking.
"Oh, really?" he asked, sauntering across the room and dropping into a chair
near her desk. He leaned forward and his face grew cold and harsh. "I prefer
not to be disturbed in the midst of my annual festival. I should be fucking
nymphs right now, and drinking,dearest goddess. Instead, I find myself forced
to come here and see you. Why were you on my island? Sabiniano tells me you've
interfered with my people."
"Kalliara was not yours," Athena said quietly, folding her hands in front of
her. "She was mine and always has been. I saved her from your son, and took
her to the underworld myself. She'll be safe there, with her mother. There's
no reason to discuss the issue further."
"Is that so?" he said quietly, his voice filled with menace. "I don't
appreciate your presumption, Athena. If you had come to me asking for this
one, I probably would have given her to you. But you invaded my space and took
what was mine. I simply can't tolerate that. I'm taking her back, and if I
find out you've been bothering Sabiniano again, I won't be as polite about it
as I've been today."
"Are you threatening me?" Athena asked, startled. She'd expected him to be
upset, but a direct challenge was something else entirely. "Are you sure you
can beat me, Dionysus? No one's bested me so far."
"There's only one way to find out," he replied lightly, his tone mocking.
摘要：

DancingWithDionysus©JoannaWylde,2002ChapterOne "Faster,"thenymphtoldKalliaracoldly."Youneedtospinfaster,andmorefinely,orwe'llgiveyoutotheMaenads.It'syourchoice."Kalliarafeltasthoughaballoffirewasburninginherstomach.Ittookeverybitofherstrengthjusttoholdhercomposure.Shegrippedherspindletightly,andlook...

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