Divine by Choice (33 page)

“Please tell me how to get rid of Nuada and stop Rhiannon.” I felt panicky as my soul started to move to the tunnel.

When the time comes you will know, Beloved. Remember that Rhiannon has lived her life filled with a hatred of her own making, so hatred cannot vanquish her.

“I don't understand, Epona! What does that mean?” My voice sounded shrill.

Think of what you have witnessed this night. With knowledge comes wisdom and power.

My spirit body was sucked into the dark tunnel. This time I squeezed my eyes shut and held my terror in check. It will end soon it will end soon it will end soon was the mantra that kept going through my mind.

And I was spit out into the snow-filled sky above Clint's cabin. I opened my eyes as I drifted softly down through the ceiling of the cabin and hovered silently above the bed. My body was still curled on its side, and I appeared to be sleeping contentedly. Clint lay next to me, still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He was above the covers, so our bodies weren't touching and he had pulled a quilt over himself. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. My heart did a ridiculous little flip-flop at the sight of him.

Allow yourself to love him tonight, Beloved.
The Goddess's voice was back in my mind.

“But I'm married to ClanFintan,” I said inanely.

He is the mirror of your mate, Beloved. He, too, was born to love you.

“But—”

He needs you, My Chosen One…

The Goddess's words blew from my mind.

I
opened my eyes. The fire had burned down to a warm glow. I studied it and thought about Epona's words. It didn't take me long to make my decision.

And I rolled over to face Clint.

At my movement his eyes opened in concern.

“What?” he asked, starting to sit up.

“Shush.” I reached out and touched his arm. “Everything's fine.”

He lay back down, running his hands over his eyes in his habitual waking gesture. “Another dream thing?”

“Kind of—this time I saw the past.”

“What do you mean?” He was fully awake now, and he rolled onto his side to face me.

I grinned at his expression. “It's pretty bizarre, isn't it?”

Clint smiled and tapped me on the end of the nose in a gesture that mirrored ClanFintan completely. “It does take some getting used to, but I think we manage. What did you see this time?”

“The Goddess showed me Rhiannon's past. I don't think Epona did it to excuse Rhiannon's behavior. I think she did it so that I could understand her better.”

“And do you?”

“Yes,” I said thoughtfully. “And I feel sorry for her.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

I nodded. “It could have been me. Change my upbringing and I think I might have become what she has become.” I laughed without feeling any humor. “It's actually a little scary.”

He pushed a curl back from my face. “But you didn't become what she is.”

“No, but don't judge her too harshly, Clint. She's much more like me than either of us would have guessed. You have to realize that at one time she was just a kid, a scared kid not prepared to handle what happened to her.”

He snorted a very ClanFintan-like sound through his nose.

I touched his cheek gently, allowing my hand to rest against the rough skin of his day-old beard. Something within me prompted me to say, “Promise me that you'll remember to pity her.”

He looked a long time into my eyes. “I promise.” he said softly.

Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His voice had gone deep and his body was suddenly still. I didn't pull away from him, and our faces were very close.

Again, I leaned forward and kissed him; this time I lingered. He made no move to deepen the kiss, but he parted his lips and let me explore his mouth at my leisure.

“I like the way you taste,” I whispered against his lips.

“Shannon my girl…” The endearment was a moan as I rolled against him, pushing the thick layer of covers down so that I could fit my body to his.

Our legs were entwined, and I loved the way my bare flesh
felt against the heat and roughness of his jeans. My hands slipped under his T-shirt and I leaned into our next kiss so I could explore the ridges of his back. My fingers found the long scar that ran almost the length of his back. Consciously I pulled energy from within me and let it snake out through my fingertips, willing pain away from him. I felt the rush of warmth as an erotic tingling of sensation.

In response, Clint's arms trembled as they wrapped around me and he moaned into my mouth.

“Does that feel good?” I whispered.

“Oh, Goddess—” his voice was shaky and rough “—if only you knew how good.”

I pulled his shirt off and let my lips and tongue roam down his chest to the hard expanse of his belly, all the while running my flaming-hot fingertips lightly along the edge of his skin, stopping whenever I sensed an area of pain or injury.

Finally, my teeth pulled at the button of his jeans, and I looked up into his passion-glazed eyes.

“I think you're overdressed,” I teased.

“I live to obey you.” He smiled as he quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothes.

“Just one of my faithful minions?” I laughed as I snuggled against his naked body.

“My middle name is Sacrifice,” he murmured as he bent to reclaim my mouth.

I responded to his kiss until the top of my head felt dizzy, then I pushed him back onto the pillows. He looked confused.

“Please let me love you tonight,” I said simply.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” He cupped my face in his hands. “Don't you know I can refuse you nothing?”

I swallowed back tears, and in answer I moved my mouth down his body.

His breathing was deep and ragged when he pulled me to
him. Instead of kissing him, I sat up and slowly pulled his sweatshirt from my body, then I slid my panties down my bare thighs. His eyes were smoldering as he watched me straddle him. Gently, he cupped my heavy breasts in his hands.

“They're really sensitive right now,” I whispered.

He kissed my enlarged nipples gently. “I'd never hurt you.”

“I know, Clint. I know.” I pulled him against me and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders.

I began rocking in an ancient rhythm that Clint matched with perfect understanding. As our tempo increased I noticed Clint's aura begin to glow its jeweled luster. Then the silver of my own aura became clearly visible around me. As we moved toward climax the two auras merged and swelled, causing the feelings that were rippling through my body to suddenly intensify to an almost painful level.

Clint's eyes shot open and he locked his gaze with mine. His hands found my hips and thrust deep within me, again and again, holding me steady. The night exploded around and within us.

 

I drifted in and out of sleep circled by the shelter of his arms.

“That's never happened to me before.” Clint's voice sounded raw and vulnerable, and wide awake.

I tilted my chin up so I could look into his eyes.

“The thing you did with your fingers,” he continued. “You made the pain go away, but more than that, you…” He shook his head in wonder. “It was…” He traced my lips with his fingertip. “There are no words in any world.”

“And our auras merged.” I hesitated, not really wanting to ask but needing to know the answer. “Did that happen with Rhiannon?”

“No.” Clint's voice was firm and had a slight edge to it. “None of it happened with Rhiannon. Only you, Shannon.
Only you. The things she did to me…” His voice faltered. “She held me with an unnatural, perverse power. It was dark and wrong. I hated myself for wanting her.”

“Shh,” I whispered, pressing my finger against his lips. “It's over now. That part of your life is over.”

His eyes were bright with unshed tears as he bent and kissed me deeply.

I felt his erection pulse and stir. Slipping my hand between our bodies, I caressed the length of him, loving the sensation of soft skin stretched over hardness.

Then I felt it. The slight indentation of scar tissue running the length of his shaft. I felt myself go cold at the thought of what this scar had to mean. The Chicago park flashed into my disbelieving mind. I saw the glint of light off the sharpened blade, and the crimson drops staining the snow-covered ground.

My eyes flew open in horror to find Clint's eyes closed in pleasure and peace; a gentle smile curved his lips as a moan escaped from between them.

Heal him, Beloved.

With the whisper of my Goddess's gentle urging echoing in my mind, I stroked him, willing health and healing and light to pass into him and to chase out the perversity and twisted pleasure and darkness with which Rhiannon had scarred him. In Clint's healing I found my own joy. Again, I took him inside my body, this time with a deeper gentleness and more complete understanding. I held nothing back from him, and as we made love I felt Epona's presence as if she was sanctifying our joining. Against my closed lids I could see the magical shimmer of our aura's pulsing as they merged together, filling the small cabin with light and beauty and the warmth of a goddess's love.

 

Much later he held my face within his hands.

“I love you,” he said simply.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. “I love you, too, Clint.” I knew it was the truth. I loved both of them—ClanFintan and Clint. They were two pieces of the same whole. And it broke my heart to think about leaving Clint, just as much as it made me ache with longing for ClanFintan when I thought about being parted forever from him.

Oh, help us, Epona. I breathed a silent prayer into the night.

Sleep, Beloved.
The ethereal voice drifted through my mind and I felt submerged in liquid weariness. Through the layers of encroaching sleep, I could feel Clint's hand trace the same path ClanFintan's hand had traced innumerable times before. He caressed the length of my body from behind my bent knee, up the back of my thigh, to the small of my back and down. My last conscious thought was that I was no longer going to be surprised at their unerring similarities.

I
awakened slowly, and in the first lazy moments of consciousness the entrapping arms that held me spooned against the hard heat of a warm male body confused me.

Then I remembered.
Ohhhhh,
Clint…

I'm pretty sure I blushed, but embarrassed or not nature would not wait, so I quietly slid out of his arms, found my/his sweatshirt (it was under the bed) and tiptoed across the cold morning floor to use the facilities.

I glanced in the bathroom mirror. I looked disheveled, bed-headed and (quite frankly) well and truly laid. What the hell had happened last night—I mean, besides the obvious? I had touched something deep within Clint, something that cried painfully out to me in its need to be healed. And the mingling of our auras had been utterly amazing. Why had it just happened with us and not with Rhiannon (or, my mind whispered, with ClanFintan and me)?

The Goddess had directed me to love Clint. It was an awe-inspiring thought—that Epona was using me in this world as human balm.

I shook my head at my reflection. I'd just made love, several times, with an incredibly attractive man with whom I had
fallen in love because, basically, he was the clone of my husband (who was stuck in another world/dimension). But I wasn't a divine healer, was I? Wasn't I still just me? Was anything else bordering on delusions of grandeur and Rhiannon-like thinking? And shouldn't I feel guilty? Shouldn't I go out there and tell Clint I'd made a mistake last night? I am, after all, a married woman.

No. I hated it when friggin women did that kind of morning-after shit. I've always wanted to scream at the movie/TV/book/or various messed-up girlfriends, YOU MADE A DECISION, NOW LIVE WITH IT! Please—that's exactly why I never liked King Arthur's Guinevere. She screws up (pardon the pun), sleeps with her husband's best friend, causes the fall of a kingdom, then she doesn't have the guts to make at least one man happy, so she joins a friggin nunnery and escapes from all of
her
problems, leaving everyone around her in a slavering mess. How incredibly spineless.

“Well, damnit, I'm not spineless,” I told my mussed reflection. “And Clint needed me. What Rhiannon had broken, Epona let me fix. I won't be sorry for that, and I won't second-guess it.”

After my toilette was complete I padded quickly (it was really cold) back to bed. Clint looked young and sexy, with a nearly obscene amount of muscular chest showing amidst our tornado of quilts and comforters.

Well, I may not be as experienced as Rhiannon, but I certainly knew how to awaken a man with a smile. And since I'd decided to love him while I was here, I may as well go all out.

“Oh, God, Shannon. You're blowing my mind.” Clint's morning voice was rich with passion.

I wanted to correct him and explain that it wasn't his mind I was blowing, but my mother had taught me it was impolite to speak when one's mouth was full…

…Much later I was stretching lazily, and he was nibbling on the side of my neck, which reminded me.

“I'm hungry. Really, really hungry.”

“You've certainly worked up the right to an appetite this morning, Shannon my girl.” He kissed me on the forehead and jumped out of bed, pulling on his jeans and shirt. “Why don't I whip us up a real Oklahoma breakfast while you take a nice hot shower.”

He didn't give me time to answer, but started toward the kitchen, definitely a man with a purpose.

“Oh…” He paused and called back to me, “I put the number to your dad's hospital room over there by the phone in case you wanted to check on him.” And he disappeared into the kitchen.

I had to find my/his sweatshirt again (imagine that). Then I was pleased to hear Dad's voice sounding stronger and less under the influence. Seems Mama Parker was due to arrive at any moment. Dad reported that the doc said he'd probably be going home tomorrow, which was a good thing because he was damn tired of hospital food and bedpans.

The kitchen floor was still cold as I hurried past. Clint was busy frying something that smelled exquisite (it is an unspoken rule that an Oklahoma breakfast has to include several fried foods to be “authentic”), but he called, “Did you get ahold of your dad?”

“Yeah—he's fine. Going home tomorrow with Mama Parker.”

I heard him grunt a reply as I headed eagerly for my long hot shower. After I soaked under the steaming rivulets, towel dried and re-dressed in the clothes I'd worn the day before (which Clint must have slipped inside the door while I was luxuriating in the World of Hot Water), I took my time applying Rhiannon's ultra-expensive and ultra-complimentary
makeup. My mind whispered that I needed to look “together” for whatever today brought—an uncomfortable slice of the future I wasn't willing to ponder at that moment.

My hair was drying into a mane of red ringlets when I entered the kitchen escorted by a cloud of hot-shower mist.

Clint welcomed me with a heart-melting smile and handed me a loaded plate.

“Good morning. I'm glad you're hungry.”

“Good morning and good Lord! Did you think I was a lumberjack?” I could only stare at the mound of messy scrambled eggs (that's eggs scrambled with green peppers, mushrooms, onions, bacon and cheese), home-fried potatoes (
fried
is the key word here), sausage patties (fried) and biscuits (ladled with real butter and honey).

“It's good for an expectant mother to eat.” He still had that wonderful smile on his face.

“If I keep eating like this I can expect to be twice my size by the time I am a mother,” I grumbled, but that didn't stop me from digging into the delicious, fatty mess.

When I came up for air, I noticed Clint was watching me intently.

“What?” I sputtered, taking a gulp of hot tea to clear my mouth.

“I wonder if you can ever know how happy you made me last night…” He paused and the intense look melted into a boyish grin. “And this morning.”

“I—” I started to respond by reminding him of the reality of our situation, that I was still going to return to Partholon and ClanFintan. But I couldn't say the words. I didn't know what would happen to him after I left. I didn't even want to think about it. I just knew that for our time together I felt compelled to bring him happiness.

“I'm glad,” I whispered.

He reached across the space that separated us and took my hand. Raising it to his lips, he turned it so that he could kiss the spot where my pulse beat strongly against my skin. For a moment I saw the painful reflection of reality in his eyes, and then I pulled him to me and kissed his sensuous lips.

He knows.
The words sank into my mind and I felt an unexpectedly protective surge. I wanted to scream, THEN HELP HIM! MAKE HIM NOT LOVE ME! But I knew it couldn't be, and, in a growing part of my mind I recognized the fact that I didn't want him to change. I wanted his love.

Perhaps in a way I was as selfish as Rhiannon.

“Your turn!” I chirped, forcing my thoughts away from the morose. Before he could resist I pushed him toward the bathroom. “I won't put anything away. I'll just wash and dry and leave it stacked in a mess. Don't worry—” I gave him a final shove “—you can still pick up after me.” Chuckling, he disappeared through the door.

Under normal circumstances I don't enjoy cleaning up dishes. Let's face it, twenty-four-hour maid service is one thing that is very appealing about the life of being a Partholonian Goddess Incarnate. But this morning I relished the mundane, homey ritual. I liked scraping the plates and dipping them in the soapy water (Clint must be part of the anti-dishwasher sect, too. I can't image that except for him and my parents they have much membership, though.). Ignoring my words to him, I neatly stacked the dried dishes, pots, pans and utensils. Then my nose led me to find the trash can that nested under the sink.

“Phew! Smells like something died in here—last week.” I held my breath and tied off the white Hefty bag, pulled it out of the waste can and strode quickly to the front door, where I shoved my feet into Clint's huge boots. “I'll just set you outside the porch and let Clint worry about where you'll go
from there,” I told the stinking plastic bag as I opened the front door.

The moment I stepped out onto the porch my body became very still. Something was wrong, very wrong. The texture of the air seemed to have changed. Yes, it was still snowing, now even harder than it had since the blizzard had begun, but it wasn't the whiteness that was so disconcerting; it was the intensity in the air. Where before the covering of white had made the forest look well dressed and ready for a gala event, this morning the layer of snow had become a white shroud drawn across the face of death.

I dropped the bag and stumbled quickly to the tree line. Pressing my hands against the bark of the first tree I reached, a medium-size hackberry, I closed my eyes and concentrated.

“What has happened?” I whispered earnestly.

Evil comes, Beloved of the Goddess.
The tree's voice was distant and sounded strained.

“Is it here right now?” I looked wildly around, feeling the skin at the back of my neck crawl.

It has entered the forest. She is calling it.

“She!” I yelled. “You mean the one who perverts Epona's will?”

This time the tree's voice sounded stronger.
Yes, Chosen One.

“Where is she now?”

Within the sacred grove.

“Thank you!” I patted the bark and tried to ignore the nervous churning in my stomach.

Be vigilant, Beloved of the Goddess.

“I'll sure as hell try,” I mumbled as I scrambled, shivering, back to the cabin.

Clint stood in the doorway, fully dressed and still pink from the shower. “Is it time?” he asked woodenly.

“Yes.” I hustled past him, filling him in as I kicked off his boots and reached for my own. “I knew something was wrong as soon as I stepped outside. The tree confirmed it. Rhiannon's in the clearing.”

“And Nuada's on his way there to meet her,” he finished for me.

I nodded.

Suddenly he seized me by the shoulders and forced me to meet his eyes. “You don't have to confront her. I'll go. I'll tell her what she wants to hear, that I never really wanted you. That I finally realize the only woman I want to be with is her. I'll explain that you were so upset when you found out I chose her that you went through the divide back to Partholon. You can leave in the Hummer right now. Go to your dad's. The trees will tell you when it's safe to come back, and then you can re-enter Partholon.” He smiled sadly. “I doubt if you ever really needed me to return. You have enough power yourself.”

“What about Nuada?” I asked quietly.

“When I join with her she won't need him anymore. I'll convince her to send him back to hell or wherever.”

I shook my head slowly. “You know that won't work, Clint. Rhiannon is beyond reason. She might be placated enough to leave me alone if you return to her, but she'll never have enough power.” As I spoke, I reasoned through things that I'd been shoving into the back of my mind. “Rhiannon didn't just wake up a couple of days ago and decide to pull Nuada over here.” My eyes narrowed as I considered this. “For several weeks before you called me back I had been overwhelmed with depressing thoughts. I even imagined I saw weird shadows just past the edges of my vision.” I gave a sarcastic snort. “When I realized I was pregnant I decided it was probably just hormones acting up and making me ultra-emotional, but I don't think so anymore. I think Rhiannon has
been calling more than just Nuada to her. She's been messing with the evil of Pryderi. It took Rhiannon quite some time to awaken Nuada, and during that time he, and the dark power she was summoning him with, was being drawn to me instead of her, maybe because Partholon is closer than this world to wherever his death had banished him. My guess is that Pryderi's evil helped to cause the Fomorian war, and now it's helping to resurrect Nuada.”

“I don't doubt what you're saying. All I'm saying is that Rhianon could still send him back.”

“Maybe, but you know she wouldn't. From my trip to witness the past I learned one thing for sure—Rhiannon is a control freak. She has to believe she is in control of every aspect of her life, and to her way of reasoning, Nuada's power would just be one more tool she could use to maintain that control. It wouldn't matter to her if that power came from evil.” I shook my head again. “No, we go together and we get rid of Nuada. Dealing with Rhiannon is secondary.”

And then I have to return to Partholon where I belong.

I didn't say the words aloud, but I saw the knowledge reflected unspoken in Clint's eyes. Without hesitation I stepped into his arms and drew his lips down to mine, kissing him deeply, trying to tell him with my mouth the words I wouldn't allow myself to speak. How sorry I was. How much I wished it was different—and how much I wouldn't change one moment of last night.