The Oracle of Delphi (Greek Myth Fantasy Series) (10 page)

“Lean forward a bit more,” he said. “I need to get a better look.”

“I cannot lean forward any more than I already am!” she retorted. “What do you think I am, some sort of monkey?”

“Sure you can,” he said. “Let me show you how.”

His body pressed up close behind hers and his hands came around her waist. He leaned her farther over the bed, his own body leaning with her. She reveled in the intimacy of it all, but could not keep from wondering how many other women bent over a bed at his command. His hands slipped back behind her and before she knew it, he had placed his palms over her bare buttocks.

A gasp caught in her throat at this bold act. His warmth pressed against her skin, and she could not help but tremble under his touch. His palms rested there for a minute, then she felt his fingers caressing her bottom end in a light squeeze. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a deep groan lodge in the back of his throat.

The friction of skin over skin sent a wave of excitement through her, and when he slid his hands around to the front of her thighs, she felt her heart skip a beat. Anticipating his actions, she closed her eyes and held her breath. His hands slid upward and inward, cupping her womanhood as she knew he would. She felt a surge of pleasure rip through her, her knees wobbling beneath her.

“I don’t think that’s where they put the symbol,” she whispered on a ragged breath.

“I know,” he said. “But your bare ass has tempted me into wanting to explore.”

She felt the pressure of his arousal through his braies on her backside. The heat that scorched her now was hotter than the branding tool used by the women of Dodona. His male hardness pressed ready against her and she could not help but wonder what it would feel like to make love to her new husband.

“Your knees wobble like a newborn fawn,” he told her, rubbing his fingers over her most intimate part. “Perhaps you need to lie down upon the bed before you fall over.”

In one motion he scooped her up into his arms, placing her gently on her back on the bed. He leaned over her as he slipped his hands out from beneath her.

“I could consummate this marriage very easily,” he told her, kissing her upon the mouth.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the softness of his lips upon hers. “So could I,” she heard herself exclaim in a breathy whisper.

“But that is not what we want, is it?” His mouth touched her earlobe as he spoke. His breath whispered against her in a soft caress.

“No. No, of course not.” She tried to convince herself of it, but was no longer sure it was true. All she could think about was coupling with her husband. Her desire strong now, she didn’t know what she would do if he moved away.

“I know what the symbol is on your ass. We do not need to go any further.” His hands wandered to her breasts as he caressed her body right through her robe.

“Oh, but we must,” she said. “It’s not enough to just know the symbol. I have been told it only disappears when the act of consummation is complete.”

He brought his hands up to her shoulders and nibbled upon her collarbone. His mouth started to explore as his lips trailed lower and lower.

“And you believe that?” He raised his chin and she saw the twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t think we really have a choice, do we?”  Her chest heaved with desire as he bit a nipple through her gown. She squirmed beneath him and moaned softly. “If we don’t consummate the marriage, you don’t get your answer. And if you don’t get your answer, you cannot save your mother.”

“Now that you say it that way, it makes so much sense. I guess there’s nothing else to do but to consummate our weddings vows.”

“I agree.”

The words no sooner left her mouth than he pulled the gown over her head, leaving her totally naked. He sat up and surveyed her body, the wanting in his eyes intense.

“You are beautiful, Princess. I am almost afraid to touch you for fear you’ll break.”

“I am not as fragile as you think. I would like you to touch me more.”

He reached out toward her breast but pulled his hand back before his skin met hers, disappointing her. He pulled her to a sitting position running a finger over her cheek.

“You are a virgin. If I take that from you, you can never replace it.”

“Nor do I want to,” she told him. “I have no desire to channel the oracle again, and no reason to remain ignorant of the act of making love.”

“Then I shall be gentle,” he said, running his hand over her hair. “I shall start by letting down your hair.”

He turned her on the bed until her back lay against his chest. The warmth of his body against her gave her a sense of security. His fingers ran the length of her braid once, then he nimbly removed each and every flower, briskly rubbing the petals over various parts of her body before setting them on the table. Each soft petal against her sensitive skin made her quiver. And each time he touched her with a flower, she wished it were with his hand instead. The need for him coiling inside her belly was strong, and she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She wanted to explore him just like he was doing to her.

Her braid finally fell apart at his touch, leaving her hair flowing around her shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, caressing her scalp until she surrendered, laying her head back against his chest in ecstasy.

“That is wonderful,” she said, letting her eyes flicker open to gaze at the fire. He kneaded her shoulders gently, releasing all the tension from her body. Gentle rubs down her back led to his hands encircling her waist and smoothing up over her breasts. She thought she had already experienced euphoria until he rubbed his thumbs across her nipples causing them to go erect.

“Please, Perseus,” she told him. “Let me turn around and feel your body as well.”

He scooted off the bed, and when she turned around, he had already removed his braies, standing before her like the demi-god he was.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, having never seen a naked man before. “I do not know what to say.”

“Say nothing, my dear.” He laid her back gently on the bed, his own body atop hers. “I can wait no longer. I need to take you now.”

With that, he lowered himself over her, and she felt his knee nudge her legs apart. He readied her with his hand before entering. She could not hold back the cry of surprise from the pressure when he stretched her to take in all of him.

Then he moved in a rhythm that reminded her of the sensual dances of the harem girls, and she imitated their movements. She felt him tense and saw his eyes close tight, holding back in fear of hurting her.

“I am not fragile,” she told him. “I want to experience the act of coupling to its fullest. Please do not hold back and cheat me. I have been waiting for this my entire life.”

With her words of permission, he thrust into her with the power of a demi-god. Unaccustomed to the act, she tensed then fell into his rhythm and relaxed. Flesh slapping against flesh, she watched Perseus come close to fulfillment, the intriguing act claiming her attention. But once he realized she did not join him, he flipped over on the bed, dragging her atop him, their connection never broken.

“Ride me,” he told her.

“What?” She was aghast. Never had she thought of coupling in this way.

“Ride me astride,” was all he said, moving beneath her.

With eyes closed, she rode him to the top of Mt. Olympus as if she were riding a stallion, legs straddled over him. Her body moistened with pleasure, the tingling nearly driving her out of her mind. He filled her completely, and her senses heightened to their extreme. She experienced the pleasures of passion she had always dreamed she would. She did not stop until she reached the sky. His name spilled forth on her lips in a cry of release. Her dream was no longer a dream, but reality. Perseus was her husband, and she was now his wife.

His hands held her hips while helping her move rhythmically, as he, too, rode to his peak. And when he pulled them away, she collapsed beside him upon the bed. Sated and spent, she basked in the pleasures of having made love for the first time. With their breathing labored, it was many minutes before either of them spoke.

“Well,” he said, his hand rubbing over her buttocks, but his eyes focused on her face. “The symbol is removed. We have proof of our consummated marriage.”

“That we do,” she agreed, wondering how he knew the symbol was gone without looking. “Please tell me, what did the symbol look like?”

He smiled and turned to hold her in his arms, his eyes closing in sleep. “There never was a symbol, Princess. You should not always believe everything you hear.”

Andromeda woke to find the bed next to her empty. Sun streamed in from the vent hole in the roof, and the coals were cold upon the hearth - just as cold as her cold-hearted husband. Her anger still flared at Perseus and the little trick he had played on her last night.

If there was no symbol on her backside, then he should have told her instead of tricking her into coupling with him. She threw back the covers, looking for her clothes. The wedding gown lay on a chair, neat and folded, but Tartaras could freeze over before she’d wear it again.

She walked over to the wardrobe on the far wall, wondering why she had not noticed it the night before. Flipping open the double doors, she found many gowns suitable for a princess. She chose a short, honey-colored one, the plainest of them all. Pulling it around her and fastening the thick belt, she planned on looking as plain as she could from now on so Perseus wouldn’t get the idea of trying to couple with her again. She chose a long violet cape for travel, fastening it over one shoulder with a large gold clasp.

Slamming shut the wardrobe doors, she made her way to the bedside to retrieve her sandals. Bending over to pick them up, she found herself once more in the same position that started all this last night.

“Princess, you seem to like bending over the bed,” came Perseus’s voice from the doorway. “Perhaps tonight we can try that position for coupling. I think you’d enjoy it.”

She snapped upright and turned so quickly she fell upon the bed, tangled in her own cloak.

“Now, now,” he said, coming to lend her a hand, “I know you find it hard to leave the bed after last night, but I really don’t think we have time for a romp right now.”

She slapped his hand away and sat up, hurriedly lacing on her sandals.

“Romp?” She couldn’t help but hear the contempt in her own voice. “Is that what you call it? Well, Mr. Demi-god, I’ll not be a plaything for you to romp with whenever you feel the urge. You touch me again and … and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he asked, his grin turning sober. “If you despised the act of consummation so much, then why the moans of passion?”

“Those were not moans of passion.”

“Really?” He leaned his arms on the bedpost, devouring her with his eyes. She could not help but feel their attraction coming to life once again. Who was she trying to fool? She craved a repetition of last night, but she wasn’t planning on giving it to him.

“You could have told me there never was a symbol on my … my . . . ”

“Ass.” His eyes roamed to her bottom end as she made her way off the bed. “Still can’t say the word after what we’ve been through?”

“I don’t care to talk about this anymore. Let’s go prove the consummation to Yrjo so he will tell you where to find the Gorgons and we can leave this place.”

“I already told him there was no symbol. Yrjo had a good laugh from the whole situation.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t. He said the women never branded you at all. It was actually a freezing cold iron they stamped you with, though your mind perceived it as hot.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she sniffed. “I want to leave this place at once.”

She ripped open the door to find Yrjo standing on the threshold.

“What do you want?” she snapped. “Trying to listen for noise of our consummation right through the door?”

“I do not need to, Princess Andromeda. Your cries of passion were so loud we heard them throughout the village. Not to mention I, myself, watched you two couple last night from the hole in the roof.”

“What!” She could not believe anyone would do such a thing. “How dare you spy on us! The marriage act is private. You had no right to watch.” She felt the stain of embarrassment on her cheeks.

“On the contrary,” said the goat-man. “You know as well as I it is customary for someone to watch to verify the couple is truly man and wife. Plus, I am a satyr. We enjoy coupling and watching it more than anything else.”

“Just tell us where to find the Gorgons. I am in a hurry to leave this place.”

“Please do not think unkindly about the village of Dodona, my princess. Someday you will thank me for all this.”

“If I don’t kill you first. Now tell us the answer.”

“Andromeda,” said Perseus, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Please control that temper of yours.” She felt the heat of his hand through her cloak and could not help but remember how his hands felt on her bare flesh. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and slowly released it.

“That is better,” said Perseus. Then speaking to Yrjo, he said, “We are now ready.”

Yrjo pointed to a small circle of tall oak trees off in the distance. They formed a ring where the sun shone brightly. “Go stand in the center of the sacred oaks,” he told them. “Ask your question aloud and the talking oaks will give you your answer.”

“Talking oaks?” asked Perseus as if he didn’t believe it. Andromeda had never heard the trees talk, though she had heard the tales of this happening.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” she said, heading for the circle of trees with Perseus right behind her.

Perseus followed Andromeda into the circle, looking around but keeping his hand on the hilt of his blade. These woods were magical and mystical, he had no doubt. But to think a tree could talk seemed ridiculous. He would have thought the goat-man had tried to deceive him if Andromeda had not accepted the idea so freely. She had been to Dodona before and must know what Yrjo said was the truth.

“All right,” said Andromeda when they stood alone in the center of the circle of trees. “Ask your question.”

He looked around expecting to see some glowing stone, or a priestess sitting atop a pit, or some wizened old man hiding behind a tree, but he saw nothing. He felt foolish talking to a tree.

“I don’t think these trees will talk to us, Andromeda. Perhaps we should approach some of the villagers to see what they know about the Gorgons.”

“The secret of the Gorgon’s home is well guarded. No one knows it. The villagers will not be able to help you.”

“Mayhap that’s true, but this talking to trees is ridiculous and embarrassing.”

“Not any worse than what you put me through last night. Now ask the question or I’m going to leave.”

“All right,” he said, not wanting to fuel the fire of her anger. “I will ask.”

He looked around, wondering where the villagers and Yrjo had gone. The woods were nearly silent, void of music or chattering voices; only the rustle of leaves in the breeze could be heard. No bird chirped a song. No frog or cricket sang a throaty tune. The silence sent a shiver up his spine, and he realized his palms were wet with sweat.

“I come to ask the way to the home of the Gorgons,” he called out. His voice echoed, bouncing off the trees from one to another. He turned a full circle, watching, waiting, wondering what would happen.

“What happens now?” he asked Andromeda. “I don’t hear an answer, do you?”

“If you would stop talking, mayhap you would. Now still yourself and just listen.”

He took a deep breath and then released it. He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his lids, listening to the rustle of the leaves on the trees. He heard no answer, but still he waited. He found his thoughts drifting to the gods of Mt. Olympus. He wondered what his father Zeus looked like. He wondered if he even knew he had a son named Perseus walking the earth.

The leaves suddenly seemed to call to him.
Perseus, Perseus
, they rustled together. Was it just his imagination? But when he heard it again, he knew the voices were so much more.

Perseus, open your eyes
, came the rustle of leaves on the wind.
Look to the largest oak tree
for your answer
.

His eyes sprung open and he saw Andromeda sitting on the grass with her face tilted back, soaking up the rays of the sun. She had not heard the voices as he did. He quickly looked from one tree to the other until he found the largest and rushed to its side.

As the bark of the tree shifted before him, it took on the face of a man. He didn’t feel threatened by the sight, just curious and mesmerized.

“Perseus, my son, we meet at last.”

The words startled him, and he looked at the face closer. The face of a god stared back at him from the bark, a wispy vision on the surface.

“Are you Zeus, King of the Gods?” he asked.

“Yes, Perseus, I am your father.”

Zeus’s words vibrated through him, and in an act of great respect Perseus fell to his knees before him.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, oh great King of the Gods.”

“I have been watching you from childhood, Perseus. Who do you think sent the old fisherman Dictys to rescue you from your watery coffin?”

“My mother is in danger,” Perseus explained. “I need to find and kill Medusa, bringing back the head to King Polydectes before he takes her life.”

“I know everything, son. You don’t need to explain that to me.”

“If you know everything, then you can tell me where to find Medusa.”

“I can, but I won’t.”

Perseus felt a stab to his heart, thinking his father didn’t care enough about Danaë to give him the answer. Time was wasting. If he didn’t find the Gorgons soon, there’d be no hope in saving his mother.

“Why not?” he asked. “Do you care so little about the woman you made love with that you would risk her life by not guiding me in the right direction?”

“I should strike you dead for such an accusation,” chided Zeus, “but since you are my son, I will not do that. I have hopes you will someday be a hero, Perseus. A hero does not have it handed to him on a platter, but works for what he earns.”

“So are you saying you won’t tell me?”

“I am saying I can tell you how to find the answer, but I cannot give it to you myself. That would be much too easy. You must perform a series of tasks. And every task has a special purpose.”

“All right then.” Perseus stood, brushing back a strand of hair. “Tell me how I can find my answer.”

“Go to the Graiae.”

“The Graiae?” he asked, not sure of what Zeus spoke.

“The Graiae are the three sisters of the Gorgons. They are old women with gray skin. They live in the land where the sun does not shine, in a cave atop the hills where the Cimmerians dwell.”

“I know not of this place,” explained Perseus.

“Have an open heart and think of others before yourself and you will find a guide to take you there.”

“But I do not understand. Why would the Graiae women tell me where to find their sister when I plan on killing her?”

“Medusa is not their sister. As you well know, Medusa was once a beautiful human. But the other two Gorgons are the Graiae’s sisters. They won’t tell you where to find them because of this. And I warn you not to mention it. These old women are sinister and put young men such as yourself into their stew pot for dinner. They have something you need to defeat Medusa. It is a magic bag that takes on the shape of whatever is carried in it. Medusa’s blood is poisonous and only this magical bag will be able to transport her head back to Seriphus without burning through the cloth.”

“I see,” said Perseus, irritated at having another distraction along the way. “And how am I to get this bag if it is so well guarded?”

“Use this,” said Zeus.

Perseus looked to his feet where a black metal helmet suddenly appeared. He picked it up and surveyed it.

“It is the cap of invisibility. You will need to use it to trick the Graiae. Between them they share one tooth and one eye. Take their eye, and when they are blind, steal the magic bag. And before you leave, ask them the way to the sea nymphs.”

“The sea nymphs?” Perseus didn’t like the sound of this. His path to the Gorgons had met with delays ever since he had met Andromeda. One more stop along the way would only lessen his chance of attaining his goal in time.

“The nymphs of the sea guard Athena’s shield. You will need it to defeat Medusa. There is one more gift you will find along the way, but I’ll not tell you about that now.”

“But how do I find the Gorgons?” he asked impatiently.

“The sea nymphs will be happy to direct you to them. They are enemies of Medusa. Now hold up your sword, son. You will need the sword of a god to pierce the Gorgons’ hard scales.”

Perseus did as told, and a white flash of light surged from the tree, covering his sword in an all-encompassing glow. Suddenly, his plain sword turned to one of grand beauty. The ornate pommel atop the sword boasted two gold snakes about ready to strike. They guarded a large amber gemstone between them. Another gold snake wound around the silver hilt, leading to two others intertwined through the sockets of the skull of a monstrous beast.

An appropriate sword for slaying the snake-haired Medusa, he thought. But though it felt heavy, seemed sturdy, and looked impressive, he needed to know how well it would work. He held it up to the sunlight, letting the rays reflect off the silver and gold, and then brought it crashing down against a large rock next to him. It split the stone into quarters before the rock disintegrated into dust.