Fate of the Gods 01 - Forged by Fate (32 page)

“Ahh.” His touch became almost reverent, even as his mood blackened and his voice dropped to something rougher than whisper. “I am certain this will not be the last time I say it, and I wish I could offer you some kind of proof. But you have no reason to fear for our children.”

She pulled her arm away to meet his eyes. “How can you be sure?”

He shook his head. “Because he wants you, Abby. Even if he could harm them, if he’s half as smart as you are, he must realize harming the people you love will only drive you further away.”

“Marriage isn’t in any way the commitment it used to be. He could just as easily leave Mia as stay with her.” She frowned at her own words. And Garrit’s explanation troubled her deeply. He was right. None of this would end in this life. Married or not, as long as they both lived, as long as Adam remembered, Michael would be watching. And if somehow, she forgave him, learned to treat him as a brother in truth as well as word, let her guard down for even a moment.…

“It wouldn’t serve his purposes to do so, and if he did we’d all be better for it. Though, he seems to me too traditional for divorce.” His scowl deepened. “Not unlike you, much as I prefer not to consider the things you have in common.”

She shivered, more from her own thoughts than his words. “I don’t like to think about it either.”

“Then do not think at all,
mon amour
.” His fingers twined through hers and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm. “Not of him.”

And then he distracted her the way only a French man could, utterly and completely.

Chapter Twenty-nine: Creation

They set out under the glare of the sun, the warm roughness of Reu’s hand in hers Eve’s only comfort. The robes protected much of their bodies from the light, which turned their exposed skin pink and then red, but it did nothing to save them from the heat. Reu draped the scraped hide fur-side down over their heads as they walked, shading their faces from the sun, and it eased some of the discomfort for a time. But even that wasn’t enough, and Eve nearly cried with relief when they stumbled across another stream in the grasses.

She dropped to her knees in the mud and cupped the water in her hands to drink, cool and clean. The wetness of the mud soothed her skin where it had burned and she rubbed it on her arms until Reu saw what she was doing and stopped her, washing the dirt from her body and suggesting she lay in the water instead.

He sat on the bank, the skin draped for shelter, and watched as she immersed herself, not even stopping to remove her robe first, though she did not feel as self-conscious about her nakedness now that her body had been joined to his. She closed her eyes and let the water flow over her reddened skin, keeping only her face free of the stream so she could breathe.

Distracted until that moment by her discomfort, she felt again as though she were being watched, studied with intense curiosity. It had begun to take a greater shape now, though there were no words. A sense of otherness, strangeness. She opened her eyes, looking to the banks around them, but there was nothing in the grass she could see.

Eve pushed it from her mind, and made no mention of it to Reu, as he seemed troubled enough by the search for shelter and the need for food. They had made another meal from the carcass before they had left it, but they would both be hungry again before night fell, and the idea of hunting and killing another animal themselves made her uneasy.

“We should make it to the other side before the sun sets, I think,” he said.

She left the water reluctantly, and moved to sit beside him. The wetness of her garment was comfortable, though the sun leeched the moisture from it almost at once. What they might have seen of the Garden was obscured by the masses of angels that had flocked to it, waiting just outside its walls. She didn’t know what made them wait, or when they would act. Perhaps Adam had not eaten of the fruit, and they would not cast him out after all. Or maybe they were waiting for him to eat of it. Either way, she and Reu would have that much more time together before he arrived.

“Do you think there will be fruit trees?” It was a hopeless question. Nothing here was what they wished it would be.

Reu spread the skin over her when she was settled beside him. “I can’t imagine that God would make this world devoid of fruit trees, save for the Garden. But I would be happy for bushes of berries.”

“Or trees with nuts,” she agreed.

He laughed. “We could live very well off acorns and almonds.” He sighed and rose, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet beside him. “We should keep going. I’d like to find shelter before the others are cast from the Garden. It will go easier for them, if we are not all wandering endlessly.”

She let him lead her on, keeping her hand in his. These golden grasses scratched her skin, and her feet were sore. “Will they come to us? When they have Adam?”

“I hope they will. That they’ll see Adam has led them falsely.”

“We’re only two, Reu. Even with the help of fire, if they follow Adam still, and he wants to harm us, I’m not sure what will happen.”

His hand tightened around hers. “We’ll find a way. The greatest threat has passed, now. As my wife, he cannot touch you. If you had not wanted me, I would have suggested you take Lamech as your husband when they joined us. He would have been willing.”

She considered his words, and the words of the angels the previous day, as they walked on in silence for a time. Something had bothered her about what they had said, and the serpent before them. “What was the greatest threat, Reu? That you are oath sworn to protect me from?”

He was silent for such a long time she wondered if he had heard, but in his mind, it was clear the question troubled him as much as the answer. She waited for him to find the words, or the strength to speak them.

“The angels fear that if you join with Adam, you will create a Godchild. Lucifer told me something similar, though I wasn’t sure I believed him. That’s all I can tell you. They didn’t explain themselves further.”

She frowned, picking her way through the grass as carefully as she could to avoid further discomfort to her feet. “Having a husband will stop him?”

“God’s law stops him. He cannot take a woman who has chosen another. It is forbidden.”

“What will stop him without God?” She knew too well the ease with which Adam had thrown away the limitations of God’s laws. He had no respect for any law but his own.

“We will.” There was a new determination in his voice. “We have already, with our marriage. As long as we love one another, that binding protects us both even from his power. And the others will help us. I will not let him force you to live in fear. I know the law, and if he will not abide by it, he will not be welcome among us.”

She saw the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with anger and resolve. It was easy to believe when there was no room in his mind for failure. Before, Reu’s protection of her had been yielding. He had hesitated to act until she had known her own mind. Now that she had chosen, there was no uncertainty, nothing to give him pause. He would find a way to protect her, whatever that meant.

They found caves at the base of the mountain, but it was well after dark, and they were stumbling by the light of a torch and the crescent moon. The shelter was shallow, and they did not see water nearby, but they were both too tired and too cold to continue looking.

They used the torch to light a fire near the mouth and Reu curled his body around hers, under the fur from the gazelle, and not even the cold kept her from falling asleep.

Eve woke to soft footsteps on stone and a softer whuffling. Hot air blew against her face and she stared into gold eyes and ivory teeth the length of her smallest finger. The animal’s curiosity overwhelmed her, and she scrambled back from its reach.

The lion snarled at the sudden movement, its eyes becoming slits, and one massive paw, claws unsheathed, grasped the edge of her robe, stopping her. She tried to tug it free, but the lion snarled again. She froze. Its nose and whiskers twitched delicately as it sniffed the air around her, tickling her skin.

She glanced to where Reu still lay under the fur blanket. His eyes were open, his face tense, his hands in fists. She felt his caution and fear, warring with the desire to act. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and held still.

The lion released her robe, though its nose didn’t stop twitching. It sat back on its hindquarters and began to lick a paw without taking its eyes from her. This was the curiosity she had felt yesterday, the interest in her otherness. The lion had followed them across the grassland, staying out of sight, waiting for an opportunity to inspect them. Now that it had backed away from her, she could see blood on its muzzle, which it began almost at once to wash away.

Reu shifted, and the lion turned its head, ears perking and narrow eyes focusing on him. It growled and stalked forward, stopping to smell the fur. Eve could sense its confusion. A roar from outside the cave caught its attention, and the lion turned abruptly away, padding back out. Eve exhaled, relief flooding through her, but the lion did not even go a stone’s throw from the mouth of the cave before it gave a roar of its own and lay in the dirt and grass.

She was shaking, trembling, her heart pounding in her chest. Reu crept to her then, and pulled her with him to the back of the cave, wrapping her in his arms and holding her against him.

“Shh,” he said, when she started to weep, gulping back sobs. His eyes were on the lion, which rose to its feet at the approach of another of the tawny beasts. She watched it through his eyes, her face hidden against his neck. The lions greeted one another, rubbing their heads against each other’s bodies and making rumbling noises.

He stroked her hair, trying to calm her, though she could feel his own worry. Her heartbeat slowed and her breathing became more regular again. The two lions threw themselves back to the ground and yawned.

“They hunt at night,” Reu was saying, his voice just a breath against her ear. “They should sleep soon, and perhaps we can get around and away without waking them.”

“What do they want?”

He held her closer and she felt him shake his head. “You would know better than I would. A full belly, and a place to sleep out of the sun, maybe. And we’re lucky their stomachs were already full, or I might have been their next meal.” Then he hushed her and stroked her hair again, because she began to tremble. “You’re safe, Eve. A lion can’t kill you. Nothing in this world but Michael’s sword will kill you or Adam before your time. Elohim has made it so. You’re safe.”

But it wasn’t her life that she feared for. It was the image in her mind of the carcass on the bank of the first, wide stream, and what those teeth and claws could do to Reu’s warm skin. Reu, her husband and protector. Reu, who she loved, who she knew she was meant for, whose children she was meant to bear.

She had to keep him safe.

Chapter Thirty: 180 BC

Odin refused him the right to a divorce, of course. And refused, too, to forbid Sif from Thorgrim’s village on the coast. Between Sif’s threats and his father’s determination, Thor was tied more closely to Asgard than he had ever been. During the days, he might go out, traveling by lightning to any lands he knew, but he could not risk an absence of more than a night, for fear of what Sif might do. Nor did he dare to frequent the House of Lions and the lands Zeus had ceded him. Ra took pity upon him, and Athena, too, watching over them, even reminding them of their history when they lost their way.