Chapter 7

Pagan stared at her feet, trying her best to avoid eye contact with Tristan. She stood perfectly still standing by his side. She had no choice but to be here with him. Draken had requested she attend his wedding and Tristan wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. So much had happened in the last few days that she began to wonder what other disasters awaited her on this day. She came here to escape the man that was hunting her, and she thought everything was going to be okay. Instead, she had become a prisoner trapped by the law of the land.

Tristan held her hand tightly. She peered up slightly to look at the waiting crowd. There seemed to be not a single soul present that hadn’t whispered or opened their mouth in surprise at seeing the two of them together. Apparently only the members of the ruling houses knew of her arranged marriage and the general public didn’t have a clue. It was possible they could have just been surprised to see Tristan with her. Most of the young ladies stared at her, as if they wanted to be where she was. Perhaps Tristan was a prize catch? Now, where did that thought come from? She shook her head to clear her mind.

Tristan squeezed her hand gently and she glanced at their joined hands. How had it come to this? He had been so helpful to her ever since she arrived in this foreign land, and now she was to be glued to his side for the rest of her life. She had no say so in this and apparently, he didn’t either, but he seemed to be okay with the idea of having her as a wife. He didn’t question it all. He was told he was going to marry her, and he accepted it.

Marriage. That was what was happening in the temple at that moment. Another woman had no choice but to marry whom her Maker deemed she needed to, and of all people, it was Draken.

Pagan kept her head down, but lifted her eyes to look at the tall massive wooden doors that were only a few feet away from her. Draken’s family members were the only ones allowed to stand on the portico of the temple. The rest of the crowd had to stand on the grounds of the ritual area. Why were they outside when the wedding was taking place inside? No one explained any of this to her. In fact, she hadn’t even had a chance to talk to her grandparents after the fiasco of last night. And Tristan hadn’t uttered a word to her.

Well, to be fair, she didn’t say anything to him either. When she woke up, he was already out of her bed and dressed for the wedding. Their breakfast had been delivered and was placed on the rose etched round table. She didn’t eat any of it. She wasn’t hungry and she was still hurt by what she had learned last night. She noticed Tristan ate some of his, but he didn’t finish it. It was awkward sitting there with him and neither one of them said a word.

She wondered if the same thing happened to her mother. How many mornings did she have to suffer through with Draken constantly present? His presence was overpowering, and she was starting to realize why her mother ran from him. There was something about the men of the 1st Ruling House that commanded you obey them without question and do their bidding no matter what it was.

At the thought of Draken, she turned her attention to the entrance to the temple. What was going on behind that closed door? Would it be the same for her? Why was the ceremony so private? Why invite people to attend and make them wait outside?

It won’t be the same for us.

Get out of my mind, Tristan.

Sorry to intrude on your not so private thoughts.

Well, since you are, what are they doing in there?

She is a priestess of the Maker, and because she belongs to Him, He is performing the ceremony personally. Ours will be different.

Your god is actually in there?

Yes, He is.

How is ours to be different?

You and I will be in your bedchamber with a priestess to join us and then she will lead us to the ritual area to announce our union to our family.

So it is still a private affair? And why my bedroom?

Ask Betha or your grandmother, because if I tell you, you’ll find another reason to say you hate me, and your feelings for me are already pounding my heart into the ground.

She didn’t know what to say to that. He spoke so frankly and honest about how all of this was affecting him.

Let loose your anger and see the truth each time you touch him.

Pagan looked around to find the source of the voice. It was the same female voice that invaded her mind and each time she was trying to get her to accept Tristan. Pagan turned to face Tristan and the pain in his eyes told her he was speaking the truth. She looked at their joined hands again and they were glowing a soft pink hue.

Love, pink was the color of pure love. She tried to pull away, but he clasped her hand tighter to keep her by his side. She had to face the reality that he still loved her, even though she denied him her heart. He still wasn’t hiding how he felt for her. His love was glowing around their joined hands. Why would he still allow his feelings for her to flow so freely for her to feel?

Without warning, the wooden doors opened, and Draken and his bride walked out from the temple. Draken raised their arms that had been tied together. The crowd cheered their approval of the ruler’s new marriage. It was a joyous occasion for the people of Aradia. A woman came out of the temple and walked to stand before the bride. She reached up and lifted the bride’s veil to let it fall to the back of her head. She was beautiful and so young. Her sable brown hair fell almost to her thighs and glistened as if diamonds had been crushed into an oil and combed through her hair. Her eyes were dark blue and shimmered with happiness. She was happy to be Draken’s wife and it showed in her brilliant smile. She walked over to Pagan and kissed her cheek.

“We are family now,” Cassandra said softly.

Draken gently tugged on her arm, and she turned to nod to her new husband. They walked slowly to the edge of the steps. As they descended together, a line of priestesses dressed in dark blue gowns stood behind her and lifted the extremely long train of her sliver gown that clung to her slender body like a glove. She was breath taking, and Pagan found herself in awe of her new stepmother. When they were all clear of the steps, Tristan guided Pagan to the center of the portico and they, too, went down and followed the bride and groom. It was a wedding procession and the invited guests fell in line to make their way to Draken’s house for the reception. The rest of the crowd started to disperse and go back to their daily activities.

Tristan walked Pagan to the garden to get her out of the room. The majority of the people kept staring at her like she didn’t belong there. It was mostly the young ladies of the 3rd Ruling House and the daughters of the high ranking generals, and one daughter in particular, Delia.

It annoyed him really, the way they gawked at her and whispered to each other, and he knew they were jealous because they wanted to be by his side. And since Pagan knew of the betrothal contract, the news became public knowledge and rumors started flying about as to why he had chosen her after only knowing her for two weeks.

No one was told about the warlord and the Maker’s demand she be married into his family. It was better the general public wasn’t aware of the threat he possessed to Aradia until the man made it a concern.

For now, all that was said was that he asked her to marry him, and that started the tales to fly. It wasn’t Aradian custom to do so and they wondered why he broke from tradition and why she hadn’t given him an answer.

Pagan walked over to a bench by the shrubs and sat down. She looked at her feet and he knew she avoided looking at him. How was he ever going to get her to trust him again? He really didn’t want to force his presence on her, but he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight either. Sooner or later, she was going to have to speak to him about this.

He had told her exactly what was on his mind yesterday and he had to hold her down to do it. He hated doing it that way, but he didn’t see any other way to make her listen. He meant what he said, she was running from love, not just him, and he wanted her to face that fact so she would realize that’s what she was doing and tear down that wall she had enclosed her heart within.

“Tristan, I saw you leave without having one of these delicious sweet cakes.”

Tristan looked toward the door. Delia was holding a plate of cakes.

“I brought some for you.” She walked to stand next to him.

“Thank you, Delia, but I’m not really hungry right now.” He looked back at Pagan. She never lifted her eyes and there wasn’t even a hint of jealousy flowing from her. All he felt was her hurt filling her tiny frame. He shook his head and sighed. “Delia, I want some time alone with my betrothed, will you leave us, please?”

“Of course, Tristan, but if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Pagan still didn’t look up. Tristan led Delia to the door and politely escorted her into the house. He returned to close the garden door behind him. At the sound of the door closing, Pagan glanced up for a moment only to lower her eyes again.

“I’m going to be the one to break the ice here. Pagan, you need to conduct yourself a little more properly when we are in public. You are my betrothed and you need to start acting like it.”

“It’s not my choice to belong to you.”

“That doesn’t matter, not here in Aradia. You do belong to me, so you need to get over this and move forward. I know you are hurt, and you feel betrayed, our bond has me feeling everything you are going through, but damn it, I can’t change any of this.”

“Tristan, would you change it if you could?”

“What kind of question is that?” he asked.

“Just give me an honest answer.”

“Yes, I would. If I had known you were going to be hurt this badly by being engaged to me, I would free you if the law allowed me to. I love you and I want you to be happy.”

She stood to face him. “You would leave me, even though you say you love me?”

“I would sacrifice my own happiness to guarantee yours, yes,” he replied.

“Would you then ask for a contract for Delia?”

“No, I would not. You are the woman I love, and I’ll never have another by my side. Aradia would have a ruler with no wife and Brailey would be my heir.”

He reached over to touch her hair.

Let loose your anger and see the truth each time you touch him.

She pushed his hand away. “But that can’t happen. The law doesn’t allow it. They are only words, Tristan. Words spoken because you know it can’t happen.”

“Then why did you ask if you refuse to believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

She turned away from him. She did know why she asked; she just didn’t want him to know the truth. She needed to hear him voice what his emotions were communicating through their mental bond. His stance, composure, everything about him screamed to her he was truly sorry for the way things happened. But he was an Aradian and deep down he saw no real harm in owning the woman he loved, and she was that woman.

Pagan caressed a leaf from the shrub that had tiny buds mixed within the greenery. Spring seemed to be arriving a little earlier. It was only the first week of March and already the air was starting to be slightly warmer. When spring came so did changes, in nature and in her life. She wasn’t allowed to be touched by Tristan until after her rite of passage and that meant she had seven weeks before she had to even consider marrying him.

“You can push me away all you want, it doesn’t change a thing,” he said.

He sent a wave of love to her, and it filled her completely without her body giving him any resistance. It wasn’t fair he connected them this way; she didn’t want to feel his true feelings for her. It would be so much easier if she were blind to his love. But he wasn’t about to let her get by without placing his mark upon her every chance he had. On Earth she had no love in her heart to give, yet here in Aradia, there was too much to feel, and she couldn’t handle it.

Pagan walked away from him and went back into the house. As she expected, Tristan followed her. She didn’t think she was ever going to get a moment alone again. She looked for a table to sit at and she found one in the corner by the window. She made her way to it and sat down, rubbing her temples to try to rid her head of the confusion that was pounding into a headache.

“Your blood sugar is low, that’s why you are getting a headache. I’ll get you a piece of the cake. You really should have eaten more of your breakfast,” Tristan said.

Tristan didn’t wait for a reply. He just went to the food table and returned with two pieces of sweet cake, one for her and one for him. Again, he was taking care of her needs without having to be asked. He was a caring man. She had to admit that. It was just the fact that they were thrown together and he knew it but didn’t tell her as soon as he signed the betrothal contract. She felt as if she were an afterthought in the matter and that hurt more than she thought it would.

Slowly she placed the fork in her mouth and chewed the moist cake. Tristan was right. Her blood sugar had gotten low. From the corner of her eye, she saw the bride and groom. Draken was still tied to his new wife, and they walked over to their table. He was holding glasses of wine. He and Cassandra sat down, and he placed the wine in front of Pagan and Tristan.

“From my private stock. Your best vintage yet, Tristan,” Draken said.

Pagan glanced over to Tristan.

“He didn’t tell you? Tristan owns a vineyard. He is quite good at mixing the grapes.”

“No, Draken, I haven’t told her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Tristan?”

“You never asked what I did for a living. I’ll take you there if you truly want to see it.”

She didn’t reply.

“I’d like to go. Perhaps Pagan and I could have a tour together since we are both new to the family? She and I can have a chance to get to know each other while you two gentlemen check on matters in the south.” Cassandra looked at Pagan with hopeful eyes.

“Actually, I think it is a good idea, but not for a couple of weeks. There are things I need to attend to here and one of them is taking you upstairs. Shall we go, Cassandra?” Draken asked with a hint of a smile.

Cassandra blushed and lowered her eyes. “Yes, my husband.”

Draken helped her stand and the two of them left the room without a word to their guests.

“Tristan, what could be so important that he needs to take her upstairs and leave the reception so early?” Pagan asked.

Tristan raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. “Do you really need to ask?”

She tilted her head with a questioning look in her eyes.

Tristan leaned into her and whispered in her ear, “He is taking her upstairs to consummate the marriage.”

Tristan watched, as his words began to sink in. Her eyes flew open wide, and she covered her mouth, as she took in a sharp breath. He chuckled at her innocence. He loved the way her lavender eyes lit up with recognition then was soon followed by a blush as deep as the bride had on her face at her embarrassment.

She was breath taking at that very moment, and he felt a slight tug in his heart. Soon it would be he that would take Pagan upstairs to do that very same thing. A stirring of arousal started in his loins at the idea of Pagan lying underneath him, her body opening up to him, as he thrust deep inside to please her.

He knew she was experiencing his need for her, and she stood up quickly to leave. He grabbed her hand to halt her efforts.

“It will happen, Pagan. You and I will consummate our marriage.”

Pagan stared at him like she was lost for words, and he held her gaze to get his point across. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Delia walking directly to their table. She pulled out a chair and positioned it close to his.

“Do you mind if I sit here? I’m really quite bored and there isn’t anyone for me to talk to.” Delia sat down before Tristan had a chance to respond.

Tristan didn’t release Pagan’s hand. “I do believe Betha is still here, you can chat with her.” He pulled Pagan down to sit in her chair again. She stumbled at the swiftness of his action.

“Oh, Tristan, I couldn’t possibly bother her. She is talking with Charles, and well, you know your sister does have a crush on him. I don’t want to intrude on a budding romance. What kind of a friend would I be if I did that to her?”

Tristan looked down on his thigh where Delia had casually placed her hand. The woman was actually caressing his thigh with her fingers making tiny swirling circles. She didn’t want to intrude on Betha’s courtship with Charles, but she didn’t mind making a move on a man, who was sitting right next to his betrothed.

There was a sudden pulse of jealousy running through him and he shot a quick glance in Pagan’s direction. She was jealous, he saw it in her eyes, and more importantly, he felt the emotion seeping out of her. Tristan quickly placed his hand over Delia’s and picked it up off his thigh and placed it on the table.

“Pagan and I need to mingle with Draken’s guest, so if you will excuse us, Delia,” Tristan said as politely as he could even though he wasn’t pleased with Delia for putting her hand on his thigh.

He rose and pulled Pagan’s chair out and helped her to stand. He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her away to head straight to her grandmother, putting as much distance between them and Delia as he possibly could in the crowded room.

“You didn’t have to do that; you could have stayed with her,” Pagan said.

“And let you continue to hit me with your jealous darts? No way, I told you that you were the only woman I want at my side, and I meant it.”

“I wasn’t jealous of her,” she retorted.

“Liar.”

“Tristan, I–”

“You can’t hide your emotions from me any more than I can hide mine from you.”

Let loose your anger and see the truth each time you touch him.

Pagan tried to pull away, but he only clasped her hand even tighter. When they had reached her grandmother, he positioned her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her to keep her from fleeing. He was too close, and this nearness made her feel uncomfortable.

He was right, she did feel his emotions and she desperately wanted to block them out. He was covering her with a shield of his love, and she felt weak from the magnitude of the emotion she wanted to deny. His love was always there to remind her of his true feelings and his intent to own her, no matter how she felt about him was a constant.

Elizabeth spoke to her mind, Are you all right, Pagan?

He will not leave my side. I need time to think, and he doesn’t seem to understand that.

“Pagan, Patrice and I are acting as the maternal hostesses since Draken’s mother is no longer with us. Will you help me in the kitchen? As a future wife of a ruler, there are certain duties you will need to perform and I’m sure Patrice would love to have you help us today.”

“Yes, I’d like to spend time with you and Lady Patrice,” Pagan replied.

Elizabeth held out her hand. “Come. And, Tristan, I’ll have her back to you in a little while. A little girl time is all I’m asking for.”

Pagan took her grandmother’s hand and Tristan reluctantly released her. She turned to look at him and he gave her a small smile.

“Don’t worry, Tristan, I am going to be in the kitchen with the women. I doubt my grandmother or your mother will allow me to leave the house without you.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” he said.

She followed her grandmother’s lead and she disappeared into the kitchen for a much needed reprieve from Tristan and his overwhelming love he insisted she feel. She was greeted with smiles from the kitchen staff, and she went to stand next to Patrice who was placing flowers in a vase.

“Let me help you with that,” she said, and she started arranging the flowers with Patrice.

It wasn’t long before Betha came in and plopped down to sit on a chair by the wall. She huffed as if she were exasperated and said, “Why is Delia still here? Other guests are starting to leave, why can’t she?”

“Well, if her father is still here then she has to stay, too,” Patrice answered her daughter.

“Someone needs to find him and shoo him out because I’m so tired of her following me around. She keeps asking questions about Tristan. I had to come in here to get away from her,” Betha got up and walked over to the counter where the fruit was displayed on the serving platters. She grabbed an apple sliced then leaned against the counter while she ate it. “I mean, why is she so interested in Tristan? Everyone knows he is betrothed to Pagan, so why is she asking me personal questions about him? She’s up to something,”

“Try to give her the benefit of the doubt, dear. Maybe she is just trying to be friendly with you,” Patrice said.

“I doubt it. She’s had a thing for my brother for years and now that he’s unavailable she acting like she expects to be his betrothed and not Pagan.”

“What did you tell her about Tristan?’ Pagan asked.

“I didn’t tell her anything she wanted to hear. I just told her to ask you since you were his betrothed,” she laughed.

Pagan thought for a moment about Delia and what Tristan had said. He didn’t want Delia. He made that clear to her. But why was Delia so interested in Tristan? He was not considered to be a single man, even though they weren’t married yet, and he had every intention of fulfilling his contract on her.

Pagan sighed. She didn’t want to think about this right now. Delia was the least of her problems. She picked up the wine jar and poured two glasses, one for her and one for Betha. She walked over to her friend and handed her one of the glasses.

“Here,” she said. “Don’t worry too much about Delia. Let’s just stay in here until the reception is officially over. By that time all the guests should be gone, including the general and Delia.”

***

Draken guided Cassandra to his bedchamber. The door was open and the two of them entered. He turned to close the door and he noticed her gaze was fixated on his bed. He had to remind himself she was a virgin and didn’t have a rite of passage. All priestesses were virgins, or so he thought until he saw the round belly of Helen that apparently the deity was the cause of. He wondered how many of the Maker’s priestesses shared the bed of the god?

Well, at least Cassandra was never going to have to, and judging by the way she was looking at his bed, there was no doubt she was untouched. With that thought in mind, Draken turned her to face him. He caressed her soft cheek and she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. He ran a finger over her bottom lip, and she responded by parting hers then closing them again to kiss the tip of his finger.

Draken raised their joined arms and began to untie the red ribbon that signified she belonged to him. The red silk fell to the floor. She looked up at him and he took a step closer. He easily removed the veil from her hair and it, too, slid down to the floor. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her back to him to meticulously unbutton her sliver gown. He pushed it off her shoulders and guided it down her hips. She stepped out of it as it reached her feet, took a few steps forward and turned to face him.

Draken took in the sight of his wife and the throb of his shaft intensified, as she gathered her long hair into a twist and placed it over one shoulder to lay against her left breast.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his tunic over his head and threw it across the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. She kicked off her shoes and strolled over to him. He rose to stand before her, lifting his hand to cup her exposed right breast and she sighed, as his thumb brushed back and forth over her taut nipple.

She responded to him so willingly, easily, and he didn’t want to waste another minute to make her completely his wife. He unlaced his breeches, and she placed her hands upon his hips and guided them down. As she pushed them over his hips, his erection was freed and she looked up at him, as surprise filled her eyes. He smiled at her response to him. She truly was innocent, and he was looking forward to teaching her exactly how to please him. He finished taking off his breeches and they, too, went flying across the room.

Her lips were painted a shiny ruby red, and he longed to feel their moistness around his shaft. And that was exactly what he was going to have her do. He smiled inwardly at the thought. She was so eager; he could see it in her eyes. It was about time he had a willing bedmate for a wife, and he planned on making sure to give her every sexual experience he could think of to expand her sexual talents.

Draken placed his hands on her shoulders and easily guided her to kneel on her knees. He leaned forward just a bit to allow the tip of his manhood to barely touch her lips.

“Open your mouth, Cassandra, this is something I want you to learn to do.”

She said nothing and parted her lips.

Draken slipped his erection between her lips, and she sealed her lips around him. He wasn’t too deep, just his tip was in her mouth, and he began to move his hips back and forth to create the friction he wanted to feel. Her mouth was hot around him, and he created a slow rhythm of movement. He glided his strokes with ease and he made sure not to go too deep. He just wanted to feel her lips around him and before he knew it, she caught on and began to lick along his shaft, letting her tongue swirl around his throbbing member.

He pulled out and motioned for her to stand. He laced his fingers in her silken hair and pulled her to him. He kissed her with a fever he had burning in the pit of his stomach. He needed this woman more than he had earlier thought. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and caressed her wet cavern with such intensity that she moaned and fell into his arms. He caught her and swiftly picked her up, never letting his lips leave hers. He turned to place her in his bed. He leaned over her, draping his leg across hers.

Cassandra placed her hand on his chest to halt his kiss. “Forgive me for my lack of experience. I want to please you and I hope you will be satisfied with me.”

“Cassandra, my sweet, you do not need to apologize for being a virgin, and do not worry about not being able to please me. I will show you what I want and in the process I will discover what pleases you as well.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Oh, my husband–”

He placed a finger on her lips. “No. Call me by my name.”

“Draken,” she said. “I can’t expect you to try to please me, and it is my duty to please you, serve you as your wife. Although, I must admit, your kiss does stir a longing in me I have never experienced before. I often wondered how it felt to be kissed.”

“Have you never been kissed before?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You were my first.”

He lowered his head and nestled his nose in her soft hair. “Tell me, Cassandra, how long have you been a priestess of the Maker?”

“Since I was five. My parents were poor farmers and didn’t want a sixth child, so my father brought me to the temple steps and left me there.”

He lifted his head to look in her eyes. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“They abandoned you? How old are you?”

“I am nineteen. The head priestess found me and she brought me inside to the Maker. He was angry and vowed to be my guardian so that I would never want for food again. The priestesses raised me to be one like them.”

“Why wasn’t I told of this? Abandoning a child is against our laws. Your father should have come to me and I would have saw to a proper adoption for you.”

“I do not know why my father did what he did, but what I do know is I was loved by the women, who serve the Maker, and He, too, looked after me. He kept me away from all who entered the temple until the day you came and handed me your sword.”

Her words started to make sense to him. The Maker wanted her to be safe from view until He was ready to give him another bride. She was His choice for him years ago; she just wasn’t old enough to be married. In fact, she still was too young, she was shy one year of being of proper marrying age, but the Maker for some reason decided to break a rule and allowed her to be his bride.

But why? Why give him a barren wife fifteen years ago and then now give him a young wife to be the mother of his child? He was promised one child from this marriage, only one. The Maker had a reason for doing this, just like He had a reason to impregnate one of His priestesses. Something didn’t sit right with all of this. The Maker was planning something, and Draken felt it had to do with the babies, but what?

He lowered his head to whisper upon her lips, “It wasn’t right of your father to leave you like he did, and I am grateful the priestesses raised you to be such a proper lady. But you are no longer a priestess. You are my wife and I will see to your needs. I want you to feel sexual and I am going to please you. Your life with me will be different than it was serving the Maker.”

He kissed her softly and moved to lie on top of her. His shaft was crushed between them and he moved his hips in a circular motion, rubbing his swollen member against her soft skin. He parted her legs with his and positioned himself between her limbs.

“Your rite of passage will be performed by me right now. If you are to be a part of our society as a woman and not a priestess, then you should experience what they are required to experience. After this, I will please you before I spill my seed in you.”

“Yes, if you wish to do so, but it is not necessary, the Maker said no rite was needed.”

“I believe He wanted me to be the only man to ever enter you and the rite of passage is not my duty this year. This is the way I want it. You are mine, Cassandra, and you will do as I say.” Draken placed his tip at her opening. He thrust forward to enter her and she arched her back and let out a scream, as he filled her completely.

***

Pagan slammed the book shut when she heard a woman scream. She had wandered up the servants’ stairs from the kitchen to get a little alone time. Patrice had told her Draken had a small private little library at the end of the hall in the sleeping area of his house, and she wanted to sneak away before Tristan found her again. She did enjoy her time in the kitchen with the women, but she wanted a little hiding place to try to free her mind from everything that had happened and diving into a good read sounded like the reprieve she needed.

She looked around at the wall of books that surrounded her. She was alone, or so she thought. Who was that and what had made her scream? Pagan sat the book on the desk she had her legs propped up on.

“So, this is where you’d rather be than with me,” Tristan said.

Pagan turned her body to peek behind the chair. It swiveled a bit and she saw Tristan leaning in the doorway. He didn’t look too happy to find her up here. The expression on his face told her so. She watched as he strolled toward her with just a bit too much casualness in his stride. He was up to something. He came to stand behind the chair.

“Showing a bit of ankle, are we? Isn’t that risky for a virgin to do in front of her betrothed? Are you trying to seduce me, Pagan?” He walked around the chair and leaned against the desk and began to caress her ankle.

Pagan decided to change the subject, even though his conversation was a ridiculous one. The idea of seducing him wasn’t in her plans.

“Did you hear a woman scream? Should we go see if we can find her to help her?” she asked hoping he would agree to her suggestion.

“No, let’s not. I’m sure she is in very capable hands,” he replied.

He continued to caress her ankle, and for some reason she didn’t feel the urge to pull away. How odd, she thought. She didn’t mind his touch even though she was still angry at the whole betrothal thing. The way he was caressing her ankle felt natural.

“Tristan, she may need our help.”

“Draken is helping more than you or I are capable of.”

“What?”

“You heard me. That scream came from Cassandra, and if I’m right in this, Draken has just consummated his marriage with her.”

Pagan pulled her legs back, but Tristan gripped her ankle in his hand. He held her in place, as he slowly touched her lower calf and massaged his way up to behind her knee.

“You seem tense, Pagan, are you all right?”

He continued to rub his palm in that very delicate place behind her knee that turned out to be her tickle spot. She squirmed, as his fingers began to create tiny tingling sensations, and she cringed all the while trying to stop a laugh escape her throat.

“Why, Pagan, I believe you are ticklish.”

“No, I’m not. So just stop it.”

She tried to free her leg, but he wouldn’t stop. He kept torturing her with his soft caresses.

“Please, stop, Tristan.” She began to laugh.

“Not on your life.”

She clasped the arms of the chair and wiggled to try to get free. He pulled her leg to him, and she slid down the chair. He caught her before she fell on the floor, and he held her waist to keep her back from hitting the edge of the chair. He kicked it out of the way, and it rolled several feet away. He easily guided her to the floor, and she took the opportunity to scramble out of his reach, hoping to put an end to his tickling, roaming fingers upon her body.

“Where do you think you’re going? This isn’t over yet.”

He leaned over and grabbed the hem of her dress to keep her from leaving him.

“Tristan, let go, do you want to rip one of the dresses you had made for me?”

“Oh, I thought I recognized the fabric. It is quite lovely on you and you’re right; I really don’t want to rip it.”

He pulled her to him, and she fell on her belly. He straddled her and began to assault her again with his tickling fingers, this time behind her ear. She tried to rise to her knees, but he wouldn’t allow that. He promptly sat on her behind, forcing her back to the ground. Then his attack intensified and there wasn’t a ticklish spot left untouched.

Pagan squirmed and wiggled all the while laughing uncontrollably. Then, he suddenly stopped to lie on her back. He moved her hair to the side and began kissing her neck. His lips felt warm against her skin and a stirring in her womb made her move against him. She was getting hot, and her breath became ragged, as he continued to kiss and suckle on her sensitive skin. She felt a wetness form between her legs, and she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what was happening at that moment.

She wanted him. The mark he had placed on her was answering to his need he was feeling. He wanted her and her body responded in an instant.

“No, Tristan, not now, not here. Please, stop.”

“Yes, Pagan, here. All I can do is touch you like this and kiss you, and I intend to do what I am allowed to do.”

He lifted up slightly, and she turned on her back without even giving the action a second thought. He leaned over her and seized her lips, filling her mouth with his passionate tongue.

Her mind wanted him to stop, but her body wanted him to do more. She fought with herself, trying to regain her composure, and get free from his sexual desire that burned her skin, even though he wasn’t touching her. She lost her battle for a moment and laced her fingers in his raven hair. He groaned at her doing so and fell on top of her, giving her his full weight. She kissed him with all the fervor that was building up inside.

He was right. The energy he placed in her womb that day would never allow her to be with anyone else. Her body craved him, and it was getting harder for her to endure. She needed him at that moment, and he was only kissing her, nothing more.

She screamed in his head, How could you do this to me? I can’t take any more, please, make this want go away, Tristan.

I can’t, not now, and I won’t stop. The process has already started between us, Pagan, it won’t lessen until we make love, and we can’t do that till your rite of passage. By God, I want nothing more than to be deep inside you right now, but I will not dishonor you. You have no idea how hard this is for me.

She turned her head to the side to break the seal of their lips. He breathed in deeply the scent of her, and he suckled her neck again. She began to pant when she felt his teeth nip at her neck. She arched her back and her breasts brushed against his soft shirt.

He pulled away and sat up, cursing beneath his breath. He got off of her and stood at her side. His breathing was ragged, and he held his hand out to her.

“We need to get out of here, now. I planned on taking you somewhere that I know you will want to go. Now seems to be the right time to do so.”

She sighed with relief that he was no longer crushed against her. With a slight quiver, she took his hand. He pulled her up and she straightened her gown.

“How do you know I’ll want to go with you?”

“You will.”

He held her hand tightly and walked out the door with her following close behind. They made their way downstairs and through the small crowd of guests that was still gathered in the main drawing room. He opened the front doors and proceeded in the direction of her home.

“Tristan, are you taking me home?”

“Yes and no.”

They walked without saying a word till they reached her grandparents’ house. He opened the door and guided her in. He then walked to the back of the house and went out the garden doors. To the left of the rose garden was an area that had been roped off that she never knew was there. They walked down a manicured path of rose bushes and ended up at a rotunda of latticework that was filled with intricate details of flowers and greenery.

He walked up the three steps to stand in the center of the rotunda. The floor was made of an ivory colored marble with pink veins running through it. There were tall rose trees that held tiny buds surrounded them and azalea bushes were in between each tree. It was a beautiful sight and there was a sense of peace that filled the air.

“Tristan, what is all of this?” she asked.

“This is where your parents are buried, a private memorial to them your grandmother had built. They were placed in one coffin, as your grandmother requested, and placed in that wall over there.” He pointed to a spot behind her.

Pagan slowly turned around and tears filled her eyes when she saw her parents’ names etched in the white marble, Richard and Fauna Falcon.

She looked back at Tristan.

“You were right, I do want to be here. Thank you, Tristan.”

She turned her head back to where her parents were. Slowly she approached the wall and gingerly ran her fingers over their names. Her parents were buried together, and her mother had her father’s last name. She wanted to know more of their life together, but she wasn’t sure who in Aradia actually knew the truth. All Betha had were speculations and the official story told to the public, which couldn’t have been true. If her father did indeed kidnap her mother and rape her, then her grandmother wouldn’t have buried them together here in this peaceful spot and etched her mother’s name with her father’s last name.

Pagan stood there in silence. She heard Tristan’s footsteps, as he came to stand behind her. He placed his arms around her waist and held her tightly against him.

“Pagan, I want you to listen to what I have to say. You once asked me to tell you everything I knew about your parents, and despite Draken’s wishes on the matter, I feel you have a right to know, and as you are mine now, I want you to know.”

Pagan closed her eyes to prepare for what he was about to say.

“The official story told to the general public was a lie, as I’m sure you already know. My grandfather was ruler at the time, and he didn’t want anyone else to go off searching for the veil under some romantic notion of falling in love with his or her soul mate. I don’t know all the details and I was a child at the time, but as the heir to the ruling chair, I am allowed to have privileged information, as it may be needed to protect Aradia in the future. My grandfather kept a journal for me to read for when I reached the age of maturity.”

“What did your grandfather write about my parents?”

“He believed it wasn’t just the longing that drove your mother to seek out your father. Our law stated she was to be brought back and charged with treason, but she was also to have a trial where she could defend her actions. If there was a good reason for her to cross the veil, my grandfather was going to waive the sentence of death; in fact, that was what he planned to do. He wanted to save your mother.”

“Then what happened, what went wrong?”

“The Maker. He deemed no trial to take place and demanded they be brought to Him, where He personally took their lives from them.”

Her breath caught in her throat, “Why?”

“I’m not sure. Pagan, my grandfather wrote something that made more sense to me than the lie. He wrote that he believed your mother was guided to your father because the Maker wanted something from them, you.”

She turned to face him and looked up into his eyes and gave him a puzzling stare.

Tristan placed one finger under her chin and caressed it tenderly.

“You are beautiful, and your lavender eyes must be a result of two souls becoming one through their love for each other. You are what the Maker wanted, Pagan, and they were the means of bringing you to life. You are one of kind, the closest to anyone ever being whole again, a child of soul mates that were forbidden to be together but defied their gods and found each other to conceive you.”

“Why would your grandfather think such a thing?”

“The Maker’s words. After He took your parents’ souls, He took yours, then placed you in the arms of a priestess and told her to prepare the oracle for her transformation. My grandfather thought it was an odd choice of words, but the words stuck in his mind, and he felt compelled to write them in the journal.”

“They were a pawn in your Maker’s game and lost their lives after He no longer needed them. But, why me? Unless…”

Oracle. The key word was oracle. Apollo wanted her to train to be His priestess and the protectress of her sister that wasn’t born yet. He had said who better to protect her than one the most like her. If that were true, she was supposed to be Apollo’s oracle, then something went wrong, and she ended up being banished to Earth with Draken. Now, she had been given another purpose in life, to protect one to be like her, another oracle. The Maker and Apollo wanted an oracle.

“Unless what, Pagan?” Tristan interrupted her thoughts.

“I think you are right. My mother crossed the veil to Earth to find my father because she truly loved him, and he married her. He must have followed her back here to rescue us from Draken and in the process they both died.”

“Possibly, we don’t really know. Draken’s banishment was unexpected, and I can only assume was due to the fact he brought you back to life. That’s all I know. Draken never told me his side of the story, and I never thought to ask till you came here. I’m sorry I don’t have more information to give you.”

He tilted her head down and placed his chin on top of her head, causing her cheek to brush against his soft blue shirt.

“Pagan, your parents didn’t abandon you, they lost their lives, trying to keep you. I hope you can understand that. I believe my grandfather was right and the Maker wanted you to be born and if He wanted you to be an oracle, it was because you are capable of such a thing. He also gave you to me. What this has to do with Apollo, I’m not sure, but we have never had an oracle in Aradia, and ancient Greeks of Earth worshiped Apollo’s oracle. There must be a connection between our Maker and Apollo, I’m just not sure what it is.”

Pagan looked down at the beautiful marble on which she stood. She knew in her heart the connection between the two deities, the Maker had to be Zeus, the king of the Greek gods. There would be no other explanation as to why They both wanted an oracle. They had been long forgotten to the people of Earth, but here in Aradia at least one of Them was worshipped, even if it was by another name.

But why create an oracle? Why choose her parents to be the ones to create one and then take their souls from them for something the gods wanted them to do in the first place? At that thought, Pagan pushed back from Tristan’s embrace. She glanced back at her parents and reached out to touch their names again.

They were in there, what remained of their bodies was together in one final resting place. She could only imagine their lifeless bodies placed in a loving embrace to lie for eternity as the lovers they were in life. It must have broken her grandmother’s heart to lose her daughter the way she had, and her loving heart showed in the respect she had for her daughter and her choice of a husband by burying them together, even though by Aradian law she belonged to Draken.

“I’m surprised Draken allowed them to be here together,” she said.

“He had no say so in the matter. He was banished and left Aradia the hour after their death. My grandfather approved your grandmother’s request, and because of that, you now have a place to come to be close to your parents.”

“I wish my grandmother was here right now. I feel the need to have her by my side.”

“I’ll go get her for you.”

Tristan left her alone for the first time in days and at the moment, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to be alone. She fell to her knees in tears, finally allowing herself to grieve for her parents instead of harboring resentment for leaving her all those years ago. She prostrated her weary frame along the cold marble floor and inwardly begged her parents for their forgiveness of her selfish feelings she had clung to all her life. She had been wrong in her attitude toward them and had hardened her heart to the point she blamed them for the life she had to live and allowing her to be kept by Draken. How could she have been so wrong?

She felt a compassionate hand caress her back and she recognized the masculine energy that filled her. It was Apollo and He was kneeling on one knee beside her in the full form of a man. Pagan sat up and wiped her teary eyes. Without saying a word, Apollo placed a hand in her hair and guided her head to His knee. She laid her head on His knee, and He gently massaged her crown, giving her a comfort, she desperately needed.

“You will never truly be alone, Pagan. I will always be here for you.”