Dogs and Goddesses Read online

  He sighed against her mouth and pulled her tight against him, kissing her back with an expertise that was almost annoying, so she stepped away, took back control, and pulled her sundress off over her head. It’s just sex, she told herself. I’m doing this to save the world. Then she stripped off her underpants, dropped her bra, and stood naked in the dark, thinking, This is just like Joan of Arc. Or something.

  “So,” she said, turning toward the stairs, and he caught her around the waist and pulled her through the archway into his bedroom and toppled her onto the bed—her head swam as she fell—and as she struggled to sit up, she heard him strip his own clothes off. The room swung around and she didn’t know if it was from drink or lust, but then he was beside her, huge in the darkness, his body hot on hers as he pulled her to him and rolled so that she was on top. She pushed herself up to straddle him and almost fell off (he was broad and she was dizzy) and he caught her again—he’s always there to catch me—and guided her down to the bed beside him.

  “I’m a little clumsy,” she said.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said as he ran his hand up to her breast.

  “I bet you tell all the girls that,” she said, closing her eyes at his touch.

  “I do,” he said. “They’re all beautiful.”

  She caught his hand. “So not the right answer.”

  “What difference does it make?” he said, bending over her. “They’re not you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest the lousy line, and he kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth as his hand tightened on her breast, and then she lost her place in the conversation as he explored her, touching her everywhere she wanted to be touched—“a little higher, nope, not there, oh, oh”—making her breath quicken and her body glow, and she forgot to be careful not to come and shuddered against him over and over again as he stroked and licked and invaded her with fingers and tongue. Finally, she pushed him away, not too far, and heard the ragged rasp of his breath, knew he needed her, and felt the thrill of that power through her. She pulled his mouth to hers again, feeling as savage as the death goddess she’d descended from, no, more savage, because she was going to take him forever and make him hers. She raked her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, making him flinch, and then went lower, making him suck in his breath as his hand slid over her hip, caressing the curve there, and she slid her knee up to his waist, curving against him, feeling him hard against her as she wrapped her legs around him, rolled to straddle him, and said, “Now.“

  He shifted under her, lifting her until she felt him push against her, and then she sank down over him and jerked at the shock of him impaling her, filling her, at one with her as he rocked under her and she tightened everywhere, shaking with heat, trying not to slip into another mindless orgasm because this time was different, this was Sam and he was her finish, he’d end her, and there would never be anyone after him, anyone but him.

  He pulled her down and kissed her, solid and sure and right, becoming part of her, slowing his breathing as she slowed hers, time suspended, and then he brought her hard against him, rocked up into her, and she blurred into him, felt him everywhere as she clenched around him, heard the gasp and the choke in his throat as she felt everything twist and clench, and she said, “Finish me,” and bore down on him. He surged against her, breathing against her skin, tight around her, hard inside her, and she became part of him, muscle and sweat and blood and something that made them glow as everything in them twisted and turned until they broke, all the colors in her head exploding as their bodies tightened and jerked together, again and again, until she was left sobbing in his arms and he buried his face in her hair.

  Then he began again, touching her everywhere, and she lost herself in him again in the blur of heat and passion and wildness as a god surged below her, above her, inside her. They made love through the night, their bodies sliding and shuddering until they finally slept, tangled in the sheets and each other, waking again to fall together, kissing and biting, twisting and crying out, rising and falling to each other’s rhythm, finishing each other and beginning again, making love like gods. And as exhaustion turned to dreams and visions, Shar expanded into the universe, saw light gathering, spinning, arcing, shattering, and then fell again into his arms, half dream, half real, rising and breaking and gasping, “Again,” as the night rocked by.

  I’m changed, she thought as the sun rose, and then curled herself against him in the shelter of his arms and fell asleep again.

  FOURTEEN

  Thursday morning dawned bright and clear, which Abby knew, as she’d been baking cookies since four in the morning. For two days she’d left the kitchen only to catch a few hours’ sleep on the big, comfortable bed that she now hated. She looked around her and realized that the old kitchen had become her sanctuary, her temple, the great copper-clad island her altar, flour and sugar and honey her communion, and that damn tonic recipe her Holy Grail. But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t stop thinking about Christopher’s long, deft hands touching her, his unsmiling mouth on hers, his bleak eyes softening, looking into hers with something like love

  Oh, hell no. It was probably gas. Or annoyance. Or a facial tic. Or—

  Whatever. She needed to Get Over It. She needed to get dressed for Vera’s funeral, be ready when Shar came by to pick them up; she needed to concentrate on the tonic; she needed…

  The front door to the coffeehouse slammed, and a moment later Gen ran into the kitchen, Ziggy at her side, both of them dressed for a funeral, which depressed Abby even more. She reached out for a cookie. Then pulled her hand away. Step away from the cookies, Abby.

  “There are bees,” Gen said, looking anxious, Ziggy pressed against her leg. His usual camo kerchief was now a subdued black. Camo.

  “Yes,” Abby said. “Did you doubt their existence?”

  “No, I mean there are bees everywhere. Swarms of them. I got dive-bombed on my way over here. Bun called me to tell me they’re putting off Vera’s funeral till tomorrow, to give them time to get the bee population under control.”

  “Shit,” Abby said. “Did you get stung? I’ve got baking powder.…”

  “I’m fine. I just … wanted to talk to you.”

  Abby moved to the French doors, looking out over the back courtyard. There were bees all right, dark clouds of them, swarming the deep red flowers that had sprouted everywhere. “Sure. What about?”

  For a moment Gen didn’t move. “I’m scared,” she said, her voice flat.

  “Scared?” Abby pulled out the counter stool for her. “I’m sure the local beekeepers will get the situation under control.”

  Gen hesitated. “Not the bees. Mina.” She sat down as Ziggy edged over to say hi to Bowser. Gen looked pale and serious, no giggles left. “I think Mina killed Vera and I think she’s coming after us next. All of us. You, too.” She put her hand on the countertop and Abby saw it was shaking.

  “How about some tea?” Abby said, and put the kettle on.

  “I’m not crazy,” Gen said. “She has this thing she does with her hand. She reaches out and makes a fist…”Gen made a fist and held it out, her arm shaking— “… and things … die. She killed Baby that way, but Kammani brought her back.”

  “Kammani couldn’t bring Vera back,” Abby said, but it was a hollow argument. She knew Gen was probably right.

  “Mina didn’t let go of her fist,” Gen said. “I saw her. She didn’t straighten out her hand. I didn’t get it at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it, and I think Kammani couldn’t raise her because Vera’s heart couldn’t beat. Mina was squeezing it.”

  “Oh, god,” Abby said, horrified.

  “So I was thinking, maybe I could stay here,” Gen said, carefully not looking at her.

  “Here,” Abby said, startled.

  Gen gave up on being cool and tried for pleading. “Bun has her family to look out for her. I can go there if I want to, but they make me crazy, and since you’re practically family—”

&n