Author's Note: Happy Reading on this American Holiday to celebrate hard-work, perseverance and the laborer's spirit. This is a fitting chapter...it's not easy being Hearne-- he's working hard for his come-back, but also to be a decent guy!
Hearne thinks and talks alot about sex in this chapter...skip if you don't like to think about sex stuff!
Song for this chapter: Fragile by Kygo & Labrinth
Carrie skipped down the trail to the lake beside Hearne, her arms behind her back, a knowing look on her face.
"So how was it?"
He knew exactly what she was talking about, and it had nothing to do with the girl who had been sleeping in his bed for a week. Hearne considered feigning nonchalance, but there was no other person on earth he could tell, that would understand.
He put his hands to the sides of his head and danced a little as he chinned a megawatt smile.
"Fucking incredible!"
He grabbed her around the waist, swung her around and she screeched with laughter, as he babbled:
"Carrie, do you know how long it's been, since I have been fast enough to run down a beast that swift, strong enough to capture it with my bare hands and hold onto it as I thank it for its surrender?" And bring the meat home to your hearth, cook it and coax you to eat it when you were exhausted, and sickly, struggling to grow a godling in your belly?
"Two thousand years," she replied neutrally, with a sad smile.
"Two thousand, two hundred, twenty-seven years," he set her down.He squinted at his watch, "And three hundred twenty two days."
She looked surprised. The witch actually looked surprised that he remembered the day she left him.
"I'm happy for you, Cernunnos," she got a strange look on her face, and she reached up tentatively to feel his head. There was no teasing, no meanness as she said, "Nothing yet. But soon, I imagine, if your speed and strength are returning."
He grabbed her hands. "Thanks to you, Goddess."
She looked very young—younger than Dru, even—as she shook her head. "No, thanks to Dru. She brings out the best in you, my Lord."
He stilled at the use of the title. She had said it in cruel jest at the overlook, but her voice rang now with a respect he had rarely heard from her in the last five thousand years or so. The language was different in these modern times, but it had been even longer than that since she used the title "my Lord" in earnest. Not since she was his priestess, twelve thousand years ago. He realized with a start, that's what she considered herself now that his power was returning. No longer his mate, but still his High Priestess, until Lana was ready to assume the role. She was faithful to her duty, if not in her affection.
"So," she continued, "you think it will really happen? Your power will return in full?"
He shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe it's not just about Dru." He looked around at the forest, dappled with the last rays of day's end. "Maybe it's just...time, Cerridwen. Time for the earth to return to balance."
"And the rest of the Pantheon?" Carrie continued. "Do you think they will return as well? Lugh and Rhiannon, Esus and Brigid, and the others? You may well have a full house, again." She looked over her shoulder toward the lodge. "I'm impressed, Cernunnos, with your planning, and preparation."
"I don't know if they will return, but I feel...it's time to prepare...for something." He took her hand in his. "Cerridwen, you are still the Triple Goddess, my Lady of the Moon, the light by which I have always hunted. If the Pantheon rises, there is still a place for you, as its mother."
She waved a hand, and her voice sounded a little thick when she said, "I told you, I don't do the Mother anymore. Certainly not the Crone."
"Your third aspect is a Wise Woman, Cerridwen. You were never a Crone."
"Ahh, but I was. You never saw me in the dark winters of my grief," she turned her head from him.
Hell, was she crying too? Could he not catch a break? He appealed to the sky and then shook his head. Only Cerridwen could make a god seek a higher power for help.
No help came. He was on his own when it came to Cerridwen, as he always had been.
What would a man say? A brave man? An honest man?
"No, I left you alone in your grief, and I never understood what that felt like for you, until you left me. Since then, believe me, I have grieved for you, for us. I can never make up for what I put you through. But I've done all I know to do— give you what you wanted—your freedom."
Hearne was bewildered when Carrie started sobbing in earnest. Hell, it was what she wanted, wasn't it?
He reached for her, not knowing what else to do, but she stepped away, waving him off.
"This is ridiculous," she chastised herself. "We both drank too much last night. This is just residual alcohol sadness or something. I am happy for you Cernunnos, but I want no part of a new Celtic Pantheon. I won't be a Juno."
"I would never treat you with disrespect," Cernunnos countered, but Carrie flapped a hand.
"I know. I just meant, her bitterness is understandable. She sits upon a throne of glass, does she not? Her King's affection always elsewhere, her rule...tentative, calculating, never sincere, because she is never secure. I won't do that, Cernunnos. Make Dru your Goddess, and should your Pantheon rise again, make her your Queen. Let me be. You won. I concede."
They were at the lake then. Carrie picked her way along the shore, hugging herself as she watched the sunset. Hearne followed more slowly, picking up the discarded items of clothing. When he reached her side, he looked out to the sunset, abiding with her.
A long time later, in the dark, he said, low but resolved, "I haven't won yet. The union with Dru is not consummated. Dru knows nothing yet, of who I am, of what I intend for her. We are drawing close, but there are no deeds yet done that could not be undone. This is the last time I will ask you to reconsider, Cerridwen. The lass could be happy with the lad. And I could be...more than happy with you, my moonlight Goddess...if you still love me."
She bowed her head, and he could barely hear her as she said, "Our bond is broken."
He clasped her hand in his. "Hands can be fastened again."
"I think...not these hands." She put both of her small hands around his large one and brought it to her lips, reverently kissing his knuckles. "But I am so happy to see your returning glory, my Lord. Ha! Imagine that," she said softly, as if she were surprised at her own tenderness, or perhaps surprised at her honesty.
In the rising moonlight, she smiled a brilliant smile at him, the same smile that had nearly stopped a god's heart twelve thousand years ago.
****************************************************
Hearne wiped down the counter as he surveyed Dru clearing the dishes. He considered her lovely round bottom, watched it spread as she folded her frame to put items in the dishwasher, and he was surprised to find he felt not much lust at all. He was sure the lust would flare again soon, now that she wasn't drunk and now that she had finally washed the scent of Faraday from her body, but right now he only felt...
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.
Dru needed to see her own worth, before she saw his true nature.
Her voice recalled him from his musings, and he realized she was still sitting on the counter, and he was still standing between her legs, his head lowered against her chest.
"Hearne, you've been amazing," Dru was saying, her voice husky. "No one has ever cared for me like you have done this week. I mean it...I've been...a wreck, and you took care of me. And you asked for nothing. I...I feel better now. Much better. Do you want to...I mean does...your offer...still stand?"
He raised to meet her gaze. She let her hands fall into her lap, nervously fingered the drawstring on her sweatshirt, but her gaze was steady. Resolute. She would surrender, if he wanted her.
But did he still want...her surrender?
Hearned inhaled. A mild scent of arousal flared from Dru. But she certainly wasn't soaking in desire for him. Fuck, this girl was really hurting his pride. But then he remembered, he had effected her strongly the first two times they met. Before Faraday invaded her being with his Prince Charming facade. Well, he was out of the picture, and Dru would heal, eventually, and come to learn...a Beast is always better than a Prince. And when she wanted him and she knew her worth, then he would claim her.
Still, this could be a teachable moment...
"My offer stands. You're ready to begin?"
She nodded, her hands moving to unbutton his jeans.
He stilled her hands. He moved from between her legs, taking her hands, lifting them wide, bowing to her slightly. She giggled. He pulled her from the counter.
"Come."
He walked her through the bedroom, into the bathroom. He made her sit on the counter while he ran a bath and she laughed as he poured half a bottle of bubble bath into it. He made her shiver with fear as he lit a dozen candles with the snap of his fingers.
"How did you do that?" she asked.
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Magic is just...will made manifest. The stronger your personal power, the more magic you can do. He drew her in front of the mirror in the darkened room, and stood behind her. "It's time to get strong, Dove."
He removed her shirt and brought his scarred arms around her. She wouldn't look at herself in the mirror. Instead, her fingers traced the scars. "Will you tell me how you got these?"
"One day," he replied. "The important thing for you to understand—these wounds I took are long healed. These scars don't bother me at all, their memories carry no sting. Your wounds are still raw, though you cover them up. I can smell your soul bleeding, Dove. I cannot heal you, I can only give you sustenance, and shelter while you heal yourself. Do you understand?" His voice was gentle, as he rocked her to and fro.
"I think so," she said softly.
"Good," he reached for his shirt that Dru had slept in and discarded after her earlier shower, and put it back on as he snapped his fingers and the candles extinguished, leaving them in the dark.
"You're leaving?" she groped for him.
He drew her close and kissed her temple. "I'm going for a walk in the forest while you do your assignment."
"And that would be?" she said, confused.
"Isn't it obvious? Bathe. Pleasure yourself. Practice lighting the candles before you climax." She saw his bright white grin, even in the dark. "And try not to burn the place down when you come, okay?"
*************************
Hearne smelled of pine as he slipped into the sheets.
"Ooooh, you're cold," she protested, scooting away from him.
"Not for long," he teased, as he drew her warm body toward his. She bucked and squealed, but he held her fast.
"How did it go?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't light the candles."
"I didn't expect you to, on the first try. But...did you get off?" his voice was low, serious.
She felt her cheeks flame. He inhaled, smelling her completion, and put a cool hand to her face. "I'll take that as a yes. And you didn't burn the house down, so that's good."
"I cracked the mirror," she whispered.
Hearne didn't laugh at her like she thought he would. "From across the room?' he asked thoughtfully "While you were in the bath?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why did you crack the mirror?"
"I didn't do it on purpose."
"Didn't you?" he murmured and pulled her tighter.
"Okay, maybe."
"So, the question remains. Why?"
"I guess...I don't want to face myself."
"I know, Dove. I'm glad you realize." He kissed the back of her neck.
"Dammit. I have to go back, don't I? To Sabit. To class. To my life."
He felt a stab of remorse. He would miss her. He had gotten used to her soft body, her sweet scent in his bed. But to manipulate her into staying would be insanity—making the same mistakes again. He couldn't keep her here and stunt her growth. He would wait...a couple of years maybe, before he deified her.
Of course, holding her now and smelling the sweet smoky scent of her having satisfied herself was making him hard, and the idea of letting her leave the refuge he had built for them was as difficult as quelling his desire.
Fuck. He shifted, so that she wouldn't feel his arousal and feel obligated to offer sex again. He just couldn't bring himself to take her, even if her spirit was willing, because her heart was otherwise engaged. He'd bedded many mortal women without the need for emotions between them, but he wouldn't begin that way with his future Goddess. Then again, he couldn't possibly wait much longer to bed her, especially if she went back to campus. It was simply unbearable to let his prey run too far afield, once he'd scented up close what he intended to claim.
Another thought occurred to him. What if when he bedded her, and she got with his child while still mortal? He thought perhaps he could prevent an accidental pregnancy with his magical will...though he'd never actually tried—he always used those infernal rubber things with mortal women for their protection, but he couldn't imagine putting such a barrier between him and his future goddess—to a fertility god, such a thing was nearly profane. He was mildly worried that even with an intent to prevent pregnancy, or perhaps even with the use of mortal contraceptives, his desire for this new life—a new beginning, a partner, a family-—might overwhelm his reason, and in the moment of climax...he would simply create, and her mortal body would yield to him, fulfilling all his desires at once.
And if he got her pregnant, he might have to make her a goddess immediately, in order for her to survive the pregnancy. Carrie had been a goddess and growing a godling had been difficult enough for her. And, he reminded himself, Carrie had gotten pregnant each Beltane, without fail, but they both had wanted to make a child, had hoped each year for a different outcome...
He sighed. One good thing about his musings...it had put a damper on his arousal. Then, he realized he hadn't actually answered Dru's question.
"Of course you have to go back. But you can stay with me on the weekends, if you like, so that you can practice lighting those candles."
Dru's sleepy laughter was so endearing, it made him tighten his arms around her. He would hold her close tonight, and let her go in the morning. She'd be back for more, he was sure. Faraday might still hold her heart, but bit by bit, Hearne was claiming her soul.
A/N: Send Hearne a little love via the vote button, he's trying to do right by everybody! Even a god struggles!