See how fast I uploaded : ). All because I love you guys!! Thanxs a ton for reviewing!! Here's the next chapter and let me know what you think. And don't worry I am thinking of ways to bring more of our fav crazy god lol. : )
Chocolatesmile: Mortal Kombat indeed!! I love that game and we must have some action lol :")
"Oh but look at this." I said in attempt to distract Dea and Alana from yesterdays topic. I lifted the wooden animal for them to see.
Thebes was holding its annual harvest festival. For fortnight the folks across the land just celebrated. The markets were opened till late night selling novelties from lands far across. The streets were busy with people and there were even comedies playing in the theatron and dances on the north field.
"I cannot believe you battled with that, that man!" Alana's eyes were wide in fear.
"She did and she almost defeated him, oh you should've been there. What a pair they made."
I wanted to strangle the woman. People had turned to look at us, I wished for a mask to hide my face behind. In the heat of impulse I had lost myself and almost exposed what I am. Rumors had spread far and wide about a woman warrior living in the city. I did not want it to be known that I am came from Trabzon. That could prove deadly; for men do not like their positions threatened by women. And that is what they would see in me. A threat.
"Are you one of those man-eaters?" I knew many called us man-eaters but my heart still tightened at the insult.
"No, I came from a land far north, my da' was a soldier, he thought it was best to teach me to fight." I lied.
"Have you seen him again?" Dea asked.
The glass animals being sold by a woman wrinkled of age were beautiful things to behold. Perfectly carved.
"My da'?, No." I replied without thought. "How much is this one?" I asked the seller, pointing to a beautiful horse.
"No, the man!" Alana replied for Dea in a hushed tone.
"Oh, no." That seemed to deflate Dea. "My apologies" I said smiling.
"Five obols." The seller told me. I pulled the five coins from my pouch and handed it to her, taking the small horse with me.
We walked through the markets stopping next at a place where perfumes from the lands of the pyramids were sold. I lifted the strange bottle to my nose smelling of jasmines.
"This one smells quite good." I offered Dea a sniff and she just shook her head.
"Well, I think we should search for him. Find more about him." Dea was like a dog, if she found a good bone, she refused to let it go.
I sighted.
"What for?" I asked.
"I think he's smitten?"
"Smitten? Well yes he was, a plenty times actually at the….tournament." I made a dismissing gesture with my hands.
"No silly, I mean he's charmed" When I just stared at her, she looked at me as if I was a child. "By you."
"Huh."
"Are you interested in the barbarian?" Alana asked. She picked up the bottle that I had offered Dea and sniffed it. "He's too big,"
"We woman like them big." Dea said winking at me. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, it's your man." Alana said shrugging.
"No he's not. Let us make leave, the sun is setting and I want to be able to watch the tragedy at an acceptable distance."
The theatron was at the far side of the city and the walk to get there was more than two leagues. The play began and the scenery was beautiful, Lighted by many torches that cause a warmed glow. The thespians wore masks and face paintings amplifying the emotions of their characters, their movements as exaggerated as their masks. The theatron was large with descending stairs used as seats. Dea, Alana and I sat together, a few rows back from the stage.
The storyline was a quite sad. It was a tragedy of a lass named Antigone. Drea did not like it one bit for she made snide comments under her breath. Alana on the other hand was completely silence.
"I'll return in a second." Dea whispered to me, her voice carried a note of excitement. She pulled Alana with her, who made protesting sounds but left anyways.
A brief second later I felt someone sit next to me.
"You made haste." I told Dea without taking my eyes from the play.
"I would've been here more quickly if I knew you were expecting me." The voice did not belong to Dea. It was a voice far too deep. Much like thunder.
I turned my head to see that it was not Dea sitting next to me but the red haired warrior. I just stared at him. Seizing him, in attempt to make him uncomfortable. His hair was unbound today and shifted by the wind. He did not bulge, the corner of his full mouth twitched and he seemed only in more comfort. I could see Dea and Alana had found other seats a bit far. The traitor waved at and smiled before turning back to the act.
"I hope you are enjoying the play."
"I am." I told him. Not looking at him.
"Do I cause you such displeasure, that you'll not even look at me?"
I turned my head to face him, forgetting about the show below for a second. His words were curious, but they held a tone that reminded me too much of Ares. Too much for comfort. I looked at him. Really looked at him, and in my mind there was no denying his similarities with the insane god. He too had a primal look upon his eyes when he fought. But he was not that god. He was a breathing, warm, human man.
"You remind me of someone who caused me much pain." I truthfully told him.
"My apologies." He said.
"Your apologies are not required, for you are not him, Warrior."
We did not speak again until the tragedy was over. Do not think for a second that I forgot about him, for even when the play had climaxed and the heroine had perished nothing could erase the thought of the man sitting by my side.
Upon the finale of the play, I scanned the leaving crowd, but Dea and Alana were nowhere to be found.
"I enjoyed your company sir." I stood and attempted to make my leave.
"I'll walk with you." He easily caught up with me. I contemplated the dangers, and decided that I was not defenseless.
We managed to escape the parting crowd of the theatron. We walked through the streets of Thebes side by side. When the silence became uncomfortable I choose to indulge my ever-present curiosity.
"Where do you hail from?" I asked him.
"I hail from a land far, far north." He answered me.
"What is your name?" It seemed that 'the man from the inn' was no longer appropriate.
"Brennus." There was a smile in his eyes as he said his name.
The walk from the theatron was no more than two leagues away. But it took much longer than it would've usually taken. Our steps echoed through the streets slowly as we lost ourselves in our conversation. I learned quite plenty in that walk about the man by my side. He was born in the lands of Britannia home to his mother and father and their ancestors before them. When his mother perished by the plague, his father and him traveled south and came to Thebes. Here he had grown since his sixth summer. He told me he was a soldier, and had been traveling lands as so, for the past ten summers. It was the reason why many no longer recognized him in Thebes. I also discovered something; When his smile spread to his face and evolved into laughter he was as beautiful as the sun.
When we finally reached the inn, the streets were almost deserted, only a few remaining drunks were about, but they too were finding a place to stay the night.
"Are you coming in?" I said standing in front of the door.
"No, it's late." He replied.
"It was nice speaking with you Brennus." I honestly said. I knocked loudly on the inn door. I could hear quick steps inside and Dea opened the door.
"Liah?" I turned at the calling of my name.
"Yes." When I turned to face him he placed a small chaste kiss on my lips. My body was frozen in shock. And when his lips formed a smile and his eyes glowed with amusement, a scowl formed on my face. My lips pouted. This amused him all the further for he outright laughed. His laughter, much like low thunder sent chills down my spine.
"Go inside, I'll see you on the morrow." I turned around and went inside mumbling things of a giant barbarian along the way, and ignoring the traitorous woman that had let the ambush happen.
* * *
He came over me, his body like a shadow over mine. I looked up to his beautiful face the light dust of freckles over his nose that I found so charming. His red golden hair fell over his shoulder and to the side of my face. I wanted him.
My fingers caressed his face, touched his lips. He seemed to bask in my touch. My hands lowered to his warm shoulder, to his arms, his chest…He looked at me like he wanted nothing more than my body tangled with his.
He buried his face on my neck, trailing light kisses. He caught my lobe between his lips and I sighed at the pleasure of it all.
Then just then something changed. Small things. Too small to change anything, yet large enough to matter. His hand on held calves, almost bruising. They slid up my thighs, my hips. His touch, his kisses changed from gentle and loving to demanding and primal. When our lips joined he was no longer careful. It seemed as if I had unleashed a hidden self-control. I closed my eyes and lost myself in his intoxicating kiss.
When he withdrew from me, I slowly opened my eyes. But what had been no longer was.
On top of me no longer was the human warrior, with freckled skin. No. The man on top of me was not a man at all. It was a warrior-god. The freckles had faded, and the hair had lost its gold, now it shone like flame. Seeing recognition in my eyes he smiled, one of the smile I had seen so in his face. Cold and savage.
I felt a cruel smile graze my lips. My touch on him had also changed. One of his hands grabbed my hair, confining my mouth to his. Kissing, nibbling on his lips. My nails raked his back, leaving swollen scrapes behind.
I was terrified of myself. I would never concede to sharing my bed with a demented god, this could not be me, it can not. Yet the hatred and fear I felt inside did not halt my self-manipulating body from bedding him.
I awoke with a gasp on bed. My thin sheets were tangled around my legs and my bedclothes stuck to my sweating body. I brought my knees up and placed my arms around it. My soul, my body felt shaken. I felt terrified. For I could still his warm hands on my body, and his warm body under my hands. I could still feel his lips demanding and warm on mine.
"It's not real." I whispered to the cold night.
"He's not here."
Yet what planted a fear in my heart was that though I was terrified, I was not terrified of his hands upon my body. What caused grave terror in my heart was that though in dreamland; I had not feared him, I had yearned for him.
I hope you like it. R&R lass and lads : )