“Praetorian Koskinen?”
A voice called to her in the crowded station as she stepped off the purple line, and it took her a moment to orient herself and find the speaker. When she did, it was no one she’d expected—or really wanted—to see.
“Mr. Devereaux,” she said formally, as Geraki approached her. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You don’t look like you mean that,” he said. “Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’re happy to see anyone just now.”
“It’s been a complicated night,” she said bitterly, nearly laughing at her own understatement.
“Is there any way I may be of assistance?” he asked, in a genteel way that contrasted with the religious zealot persona she associated with him.
“I don’t think anyone can help, but thanks. I need to get home.”
He caught her arm, and she almost welcomed the rush of endorphins brought on by a potential threat. The look in his eyes, however, suggested no fight, just more unsolicited advice.
“That’s not true,” he told her. “The part about no one being able to help you, that is. Sometimes it may seem that way on earth, in human affairs, but there are higher powers able to strengthen and sustain us.”
This time, she did laugh, surprised she’d find amusement in something so absurd. “Are you trying to convert me in the middle of a subway station?”
“No need,” he said gravely. “From what I hear, you’ve already taken up quite nicely with a goddess.”
“How do you—” A startling, impossible thought hit her. “You . . . you sent me the amber knife.”
He sketched her a bow. “I’d say ‘guilty as charged,’ but I have nothing to feel guilty about. The Lady wanted to connect to you, and I simply helped make it possible.”
Mae was stunned. She’d meant what she’d told Justin, that her experience in the wilderness had been life-changing. The goddess had held true to her word, delivering and protecting Mae, and that sense of communion and life had been glorious. Mae wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about that now. She’d just been thinking that there might truly be something to serving a goddess like that . . . but now, that image was tainted knowing Geraki was involved.
“You serve her too?” Mae asked.
“No, no,” Geraki chuckled. “I serve a different god, but they are allies, and I have great esteem for her. That was how I came to be the messenger.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Mae, feeling slightly relieved. “That they were allies. But I mean, I don’t really know much about her yet . . . or anything about your god.”
“No?” He generally seemed surprised at that. “Our mutual servitor friend has never mentioned my god?”
“Justin? No, why would he?”
Geraki’s expression was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “No reason at all, I suppose. Never mind him. If the Lady has brought you any sort of fulfillment at all, then I’m glad.”
“She has,” said Mae softly. “Though I still don’t know what to make of it. Or what I want.”
“Then I’ll give you some quick advice because I see the blue line pulling up. Find out what you do want from her, and you may find that whatever else is bringing you down doesn’t matter so much. My master tells me she’s led you true so far. If you let her continue to do so, you may find petty and human affairs are exactly that: petty and human. Good luck.”
He started to turn for his train, but this time, she held him back. “Wait—what is her name?”
Geraki hesitated. “Generally the elect must earn their gods’ names. Only those engaged in simple worship get them easily.” Something in her face must have touched him because he finally said, “Freya.”
“Freya,” repeated Mae, the word tasting of power.
“Look to her.” Geraki’s expression softened a little. “Not to whoever’s broken your heart.”
He disappeared into the crowd, and Mae stood there a moment before continuing on her way, heading up to street level. She said the goddess’s name over and over in her head as she walked home, wondering if Geraki—madman that he was—was right. When the pressures of her home life had reached a breaking point, Mae had found purpose in answering the higher call of the military. Was it possible now, in the midst of romantic turmoil, that there might be something for her she’d never dreamed of in the service of this goddess? It was a startling revelation, especially considering Mae’s rocky start with the Morrigan.
But Freya felt different, and that bore some serious consideration before Mae could make any hard and fast decisions. Besides, when she got home later, Mae couldn’t deny that no matter how petty Geraki might think human affairs were, the power Justin still held over Mae’s heart was a formidable thing. Freya’s power in the wilderness had filled Mae with exhilaration . . . but then, so did thinking of Justin now. That was a hard thing to get over.
It was made harder still when he showed up that night.
She almost could’ve believed her eyes were playing tricks on her when her bedroom screen displayed his image down at her building’s front door. He should’ve been at Lucian’s dinner, but there he was, looking up at the camera as he waited for entrance. With his chip, he actually could’ve come straight to her door because he was a handful of people she’d authorized in the building’s security system. She wondered if he was afraid of his reception, as though she might not have welcomed him to her door after the way they’d left things.
He needn’t have worried. Mae authorized his entry, her heart pounding furiously as she counted the seconds until he made it to her door. Whatever thoughts of higher callings over human affairs that Geraki might have inspired vanished. That earlier sense of feeling like a school girl came over her as she took a hasty look in the mirror and tried to smooth her unruly hair. She was nothing special tonight, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Not if he was coming to her.
She flung open the door when he arrived, and both of them stood there, momentarily frozen. There was a hunger and tension radiating off of him that left her breathless, and Mae suddenly found herself caught in an uncharacteristic state of rambling. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Lucian? I thought you said you couldn’t—”
“I was wrong.”
His voice was low and husky as he slammed the door behind him and pulled her to him. That first kiss was crushing and all-consuming, as though he might lose this chance if he didn’t take advantage of it. The tenderness she’d felt back in his room was gone, replaced by an almost primal intensity that spoke to her baser instincts. She let herself get pulled into that animal passion, knowing there’d be time—all the time in the world—later for tenderness.
He swept her into his arms and carried her effortlessly into her bedroom, pausing to shoulder the light switch off before setting her on the bed. The streetlights outside painted them in shadows as they shed their clothing. The foreplay Mae remembered from Panama was gone, abandoned in the urgency of the moment. He went at her almost as desperately and furiously as an implant-driven praetorian might, and although it was a surprise, it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. Mae’s own body was so supercharged and flooded with hormones and endorphins that the instant gratification was welcome in some ways, even as his tight grip on her wrists bordered the line of pleasure and pain. All that mattered was that they were finally together, as they should’ve been long ago.
Along with that fury and intensity came brevity, and when it was over, he rolled off of her with a great, content sigh, releasing his hold on her. Some of Mae’s initial desire had been met, but she was a long ways from being sated. All night, she reminded herself. We have all night to make love and talk and then make love some more . . .