Hooked [Complete]

19. Fragile God

Fuck, he didn't know what he felt. He didn't want to think of Carrie, her red hair glowing in the sunset, her lips pressed against his hand in the moonlight. He didn't want to smell her soft pain, as she had walked away. He had purged her from his senses a thousand years ago.

But now, he had been with her so much this past month, he couldn't stop scenting her. Even now, he could tell, she was downtown in Weirville. With that Roman fucker who was bedding her. He had no idea which god it was, but he remembered the stench of the Roman Legions well, and no modern man smelled like that. Only their gods retained that particular aroma.

Godsdammit, enough of morbid thought.

He forced himself to think of more enjoyable images...the smiles and movements of Carrie, Lana and Dru in their drunk revel last night. His three women, cavorting naked in the woods together, sleeping in his bed together, sitting at the counter together. It seemed fitting. Carrie had been his triple goddess—Maiden, Mother, Crone. Witch, Priestess, Goddess. It was like she was split into three, now. The idea comforted him. No matter what she said, no matter what role she refused from him, Carrie would always be his wild moonlight witch. Lana would be his bold new priestess, and Dru would soon be his precious new goddess.

Thinking of his three women together, yes that was much better. Seeing them all sheltered under his roof, eating the food he had killed and cooked. It stirred something he hadn't felt in two thousand years. A sense of place, of family, of purpose.

"What are you doing?" Dru was looking at him with a quizzical smile.

"What?" he stilled his hands, realizing exactly what he was doing. "Oh, my head itches, I guess."

Dru climbed onto the counter. She surprised him by reaching up and rubbing the sides of his head, raking her fingers through the rows between his braids. "Here?"

"Fuck, that feels good," he put his arms around her waist and lowered his head to her as she continued to rub.

He was right. Lust was quick to return, with beautiful Dru teasing his horns from him. But he put away the urgent need to lay her back on the granite and push into her.  Despite her offer of physical contact, he could smell that her arousal was not strong enough for sudden sex with him. And he didn't just want mortal sex, he wanted the Divine Act—the union of their bodies and souls...the conduit that would allow him to share his god power and make her a goddess.

Neither one of them were ready for that—the trust between them was growing, but...the connection necessary for the Divine Act still wasn't there yet, and neither were his horns. 

Without his horns, he didn't have the power to raise her to divinity anyway. He wondered, how many more mortal acts of restoration would it take for his horns to return? How many more beasts would he have to run down, how many more rituals would he have to preside over, how many times would he have to make love to Dru the mortal way, before he was fully healed?

It didn't really matter; he had plenty of time.

He had decided, sometime during this week of watching her try not to cry over Faraday, he wouldn't make her a goddess until she was ready to become one. It's probably where he went wrong with Carrie. She had been practically been a middle aged woman by the standards of ancient times, but really, emotionally no more than a child. He should have kept her as his priestess for longer, let her grow, let experience be her teacher, before he deified her. Carrie was her own woman now, but she had fought for her independence and won the hard way—at their cost of their love, and perhaps even her own true fulfillment.  And seeing Dru juxtaposed beside the new, stronger Carrie made him realize that he didn't want to make the same mistake again.