Читать книгу Eden's Fire - Samantha Holt - Страница 3

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Thou shalt not receive the God’s good grace,

Neither circumstance nor honor shall sway,

For all are equal in Inais’ eyes,

Heavenly blessings but once is the way.

~ The Teachings of Inais, Book 1

“Please,” Eden begged as she flicked the flint against the steel. It sparked but the tinder refused to light. Too damp. Everything in her cottage was too damp. Including her. Teeth chattering, she pulled the fur tight over her shoulders and tried again. “Please, Gods, I just want a fire…”

Close to tears, she struck the steel over and over, and cursed in agitation. She hadn’t eaten hot food in days, living off what little bread was left. And she was cold. So very cold.

With a cry of frustration, she flung the flint across the room and it clattered against the wall before falling into the dirt floor of the cottage. As she regarded the damp wood in the fire pit with a sniff, a sudden spark erupted in the center and flames burst to life. She screamed and scrambled back as the fire settled to a steady roar.

She snapped her head up as a creature stepped back from the blaze and towered over her. A scream dried on her lips as she gaped at him. No, not a creature. A man. A shirtless, incredibly powerful-looking man. Muscle and sinew molded to every part of his body and his leather-clad legs told her they were no different. A wild, swirling tattoo crawled over one shoulder and his skin gleamed in the light.

Shrinking back, Eden tightened her grip on the fur around her in an attempt to preserve some heat. “Who…who are you? Where did you come from?”

“You asked for me, Eden.”

She stared, dry eyes unable to blink. How did this stranger know her name? Panic thrummed through her. Her bow was hidden under one of the mattresses in the corner, thrust up against the bare stone wall. What could she defend herself with? She darted a glance at the knife resting next to her kill.

Edging forward, she shuffled on her knees to the dagger, keeping her gaze on the strange man on the other side of the fire pit. Arms folded across that formidable chest, he watched through eyes that appeared to glow in the dim light. If aware of what she was up to, he showed no sign of it. His presence dominated the simplicity of her home which housed only a table, sleeping pallets and a basic collection of cookery pots.

“I-I don’t think I did ask for you.” She stretched her fingers underneath the pelt, hoping he wouldn’t hear her movements.

“You did, Eden,” he said quietly, and took a step around the fire.

She squealed, snatched the knife and scrabbled away, pressing against the wall. She wanted to stand but her legs quaked violently.

“I will not harm you,” he soothed. “I am Tyondric. You asked for me.”

Eden failed to prevent the spluttered laugh erupting from her but it faded as she studied him. His beautiful face, so raw and untamed, did indeed look as godlike as the rest of him. Short black hair framed it perfectly, setting off his striking features. She traced the tattoo with her gaze once more. She’d seen those swirls before, in the glass windows of The Village church.

His amber eyes flared and she gripped the knife tighter. Alone too long, that was it. Mad, she was. No way was this man Tyondric—the god of fire.

He took another step forward and it startled her into springing to her feet. The pelt dropped and she thrust out the knife. The blade wavered and she swallowed, eyeing his torso. She doubted it would do much damage to that wall of muscle.

“S-stay back,” she warned, brandishing the knife.

The man inched closer. “Eden—”

With a cry, she swiped the blade and his eyebrows darted upward in surprise as he dodged.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you. Just leave.”

“Eden, look.” He turned to the fire and held out a hand.

She flicked a peek at the door and wondered if she could push past and escape. Before she came to a decision, a great roaring shook the walls of the tiny cottage. The fire in the center of the room swirled and danced, growing taller until it almost touched the thatched roof. With a wave of his hand the flame calmed until it settled into a gently crackling blaze.

Oh Gods, it was genuinely him. The Fire God. Glancing at the fire then at the man, she dropped to her knees, hands clasped together. “Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t mean to…I mean, I thought…” She bowed at his feet, cheeks heating with shame. “I never expected you to come to my aid,” she mumbled as her hair tumbled over her face.

His leather trousers squeaked, and he parted her brown curls, brushed a finger under her chin and raised it. Eden cringed as she brought her gaze up to the god kneeling in front of her. Those golden eyes were mellow now, no longer flowing and flaring but his being shimmered with unspent tension, as if fire did indeed surge through the veins beneath his tanned flesh. She tilted her head. Did the subtle roar of fire emanate from him?

“You are cold.”

“Yes.” She made to bow again but the finger under her chin prevented it. The tip warmed her skin, spreading a flush of heat throughout her face. “But you have lit my fire for me. Thank you. I’ll be warm now.”

He dropped his hand and curled it into a fist. “For tonight.”

“Yes, for tonight,” she agreed, eyeing his hand, swallowing. Had her ungratefulness angered him?

The winter lingered and moist air seeped into her drafty cottage. No doubt, tomorrow she would have the same problem with damp firewood and tinder, but tonight promised warmth and she’d have a decent meal. She peeked at the god through her hair, trying to discern the tensing of his jaw.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “I didn’t expect you to come.”

His gaze flared. “It was your turn.”

Eden nodded slowly, shuffled closer to the fire and absorbed the warmth. He spoke quietly, almost soothingly and moved with grace. It belied his powerful appearance and godly abilities. She frowned. What did people say of the god, Tyondric? She certainly didn’t recall any talk of a striking face or gentle manners.

She glanced at him as he crouched, gaze intense. “It is true then? That you only come to a person once if they ask?”

“Yes. You will not see a god again.”

“But why have I never seen a god before? I have certainly prayed to the gods more than once.” She’d prayed many times when her family was sick, when the villagers were dying around her. But no one answered.

She patted the earth in invitation. He shrugged and moved over hesitantly, surprising her by sitting next to her. “We do not hear all the calls. It is fate’s decision. Today I heard yours.”

Eden released a nervous giggle and he scowled.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Forgive me. I just didn’t think I’d sit with a god tonight. I used to listen to the tales of you when I was younger and dream of what it must be like to receive a visit from a god, but I never thought it would happen to me.”

“It does not happen to everyone.”

She frowned. The fates chose poorly. With no rhyme or reason, old and young, good and evil stood an equal chance of receiving a visit from a god. It angered her it should be so random. There were surely people who deserved it more. Certainly more than she.

He touched her hand briefly and she flinched at the rush of heat it caused. “That is the way it is.”

Her mouth dropped open. Did he read minds? Of course he did, he was a god! “D-don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Read my mind. Please?” Inwardly she groaned. Was she really trying to command a god?

“I cannot read your mind.”

“Oh.” She stared at her hands as they warmed in front of the fire. “So how did you know what I was thinking?”

“I have watched humans for thousands of years. And you are very easy to read. Though I confess I do not always understand the emotions behind the expressions.”

She jerked around to face him. “You don’t feel things?”

“Not as humans do. I feel, but it is…muted. We cannot afford to be as emotional as humans.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“It does not mean I do not regret I cannot do more,” the god added quickly.

Was he apologizing to her for the state of the world? Ananthuria had fallen into despair many years ago. Once a great and beautiful realm, now the rich grew richer and the poor grew poorer. Evil controlled everything. Only the good suffered in her eyes.

“I mean no disrespect, my lord. Forgive my bold questions.”

“Please call me Tyondric.” A hint of a smile quirked on his lips. “Or Ty.”

“T-Tyondric?” The urge to slap a palm to her forehead struck. “Ok, my—I mean, Tyondric.”

They sat silently for a moment and stared at the flickering flames. The pounding of her heart subsided and Eden found his company soothing. Indeed he was the first human—well, sort of human—to set foot in her home for at least three years, but she instinctively knew no other person could make her feel so at ease . She didn’t know why, but he lifted the ache in her soul somehow.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked suddenly.

“Like what?”

“I do not know,” Tyondric admitted. “I do not like to see you cold.”

“I’m not cold anymore, thanks to you.”

He glanced around the room, gaze alighting on the rabbit she’d skinned and cleaned earlier for dinner. Ty reached over, grabbed the slate board it sat on and placed it in on the floor in front of him, hands held out. Eden waited as nothing happened. To her delight, the meat began to lighten and cook. She squinted at him but saw no sign of his power. As the juices ran from it, he clapped his palms together and grabbed the slate board, thrusting it forward. The scent teased her nose and her stomach grumbled.

He offered it again. “Eat.”

Gingerly taking the stone, she tore off some meat. She managed not to groan as she took a bite. With his keen gaze he observed every move, and warmth seeped into her cheeks. “Do you want some?”

Tyondric shook his head. “No. I will not be in human form long enough to get hungry.”

“Gods don’t eat?” she asked between bites.

“No, our spirit forms do not need nourishment.”

“Oh.” Eden continued to pick at the meat, in spite of the impulse to bury her face into the first bit of decent food she’d consumed in days. With the harsh winter, her traps were consistently empty. “Have you ever eaten?”

“Yes.” His face twisted and her lips tugged into a smile.

“And you did not like it?”

“It was a strange sensation. I do not see why humans like it so much.”

She laughed. “That is probably because you’ve never been hungry. And there are some foods that are divine. I bet you’ve never tried honey, figs or custard.”

With a tilted head, he studied her. “I have not. You like those things?”

“Oh, yes,” she said wistfully. “Though I’ve not had them for many years.”

“I would give those things to you if I could.”

With a hand to her lips, Eden paused, the impassioned tone of his voice catching her off guard. Why should a god care for her needs? He’d already played his role. Why did he linger?

The empty bones rattled as she placed the slab down, stood and went to clean her fingers at the washbowl in the shadows of the rear corner of the room. She peered over one shoulder and the god’s glittering gaze followed, inciting an awareness in every inch of her body. Like treading water, each movement became difficult as the air stifled.

“You have more water?”

“Yes. A well. Out front.” She pointed and quickly dropped her hand. Of course he knew where the front was.

“A bath.”

Had she heard him wrong? “What?”

“I could provide you with a bath. Humans like baths, do they not?”

“Well, yes…but-but I really couldn’t—”

“I shall get you some water. Put your tub in front of the fire.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he disappeared, leaving her gaping at the spot in which he’d sat. With a shake of her head, she hauled the wooden tub from under the table, dragged it across the dirt and hefted it over to the fire.

Gods, he must have caught her at a weak moment. She never normally took to orders, especially after so many years alone. She sighed. A widow at twenty-one. Did she look as old and weary as she felt?

The bath now in position, she pushed open a window shutter to search for the god. Her breathing labored as she spotted his powerful physique radiating through the darkness. His muscles flexed as he drew the bucket from the well. Desire speared through her.

Eden sprang away from the window as he turned and sauntered toward the cottage. Flat against the wall, she observed in silence as he pushed open the door and proceeded to fill the bathtub before silently disappearing and repeating the action, until the water nearly reached the brim.

A warm sensation filled her as the god did this menial task. For me! Even when her family was alive, she had run the house and took care of everyone else. Had anyone ever poured her a bath? She rubbed her forehead. Not that she could recall.

Tyondric positioned himself in front of the water, palms held out, like before. Tendrils of steam rose lazily into the murky light of the cottage and beckoned her with promises of warmth and cleanliness.

Raising his chin, he stepped to one side and motioned to the tub. “There.”

Moisture gathered in her eyes and she smiled. “Thank you.” To her dismay, her voice wavered. “Thank you,” she tried again, “for everything.”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, he gestured again. “Will you not get in?”

“Not with you here!” He frowned and Eden realized she’d have to elaborate. Gods really didn’t know much. “I can’t bathe in front of you. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Oh.”

His gaze trailed over her and she clutched herself with her arms. With his godly powers, he may have already seen her naked. Those enchanting eyes seemed to strip her to the bone, but she didn’t want to reveal herself to such an exquisite man, god or not.

Jaw tense, he considered her and dipped his head sharply. “I am glad I helped you. I will go now.”

Eden tightened the hold on her waist as the warmth he’d brought deserted, leaving a gaping chasm in her chest. She resisted the need to rub at it. “I won’t see you again, will I?” she whispered.

“No.”

Her words threatened to lodge in her throat, choked and rasping. Stay, she wanted to beg. How could he just leave after everything he’d done for her? “Farewell, then.”

“Farewell, Eden.”

His form vanished, the sudden flare of his golden eyes lingering in her vision. With a gulp, she drew her shoulders straight and eyed the tub with a smile. The first bath anyone had ever poured for her, and a god had poured it.

Hastily shedding her clothes, she climbed in, leaned back and let her eyelids droop. The image of Tyondric burned bright behind her eyelids and she sighed. Would she ever forget him?