Seeds (15 page)

     His curiosity won him over, and his fingers trailed down to her neck and collarbone, exploring the warm flesh before going along her arm, stopping at her little hand. It was slender and graceful, and carefully he slipped it into his palm, wrapping his fingers around it. He could feel the power and life within this fledgling goddess, this... wonderful
warmth
. It both soothed and excited him, and he raised her hand, pressing his nose to it and inhaling her scent. It was warm and natural, fresh yet alluring, and he sighed softly before kissing her hand.

     “Why do I desire you so?” he breathed as he set her hand back down, feeling the warmth of need in his loins. Here before him lay an entirely tempting opportunity to have her. It wouldn't be the first time a woman was seduced in her sleep, but he knew that to do that would be unfair, and wrong for both of them. He was not like Zeus or other gods who would have their pleasure of fair maidens through trickery.

     His hand slid back up to her shoulder before tracing her ear. Still she slept. Perhaps it was because Hades had no malicious or hurtful intent, so her body remained slack as that hand crept up further, stroking her forehead. He lowered his head, inhaling the scent of her hair and face, almost overwhelmed by the spring-sweet smell. A faint shudder passed through her body as he touched his nose to her cheek.

     His other hand slid along her exposed leg, luxuriating in the feel of the soft, warm skin. It was so tempting to explore her fully, to lift the hem and see what lay between her legs and explore the source of that faintly sweet, musky, almost imperceptible scent that he had noticed when he started touching her. She might have the appearance of someone younger than her years, but she smelled like a woman!

    
How many other men, if presented with this opportunity, would simply have their way with her? He touched the hem of her tunic, but did not lift it, contenting himself with stroking her legs. With no small amount of delight, he noticed that her nipples had hardened, the thin material of her shift barely hiding them. When he ran his fingers along her ankle, a tiny whimper escaped her throat.

     “My goddess, have you any idea how much I need you?” he hissed softly as he leaned over, his lips mere inches from her face. Still she slept, her head tilted slightly to one side, her lips closed. Her scent – wonderful mixture of scents – was driving him nearly mad. He wanted to whisk her away from this place, away from her mother's stifling protectiveness and let her blossom into the full-fledged Goddess she did not even know she was.

     He imagined her staring up at him, arms outstretched in welcome, offering herself to him freely, love shining in her eyes as she bestowed to him one of her brilliant smiles. He envisioned coming to the surface and luring her away with the promise of freedom, and a man who loved her wholeheartedly and desired her as much as any man – or god – could ever love a woman. She would become Queen of a mighty realm.

     “You are magnificent,” he said softly, pressing his lips against her cheek. He had felt passion before, but never like this! What stirrings he had felt in the past were ephemeral, Minthe and Leuce being mere amusements. Sure, they had been enjoyable distractions, but there had been no emotional attachment.

     He almost wished she would wake up. What a delicious thrill that would be! As he lifted his head, she wiggled around, rolling over onto her side, her chest against the side of his leg. He held his breath, waiting for her to realize she wasn't alone. But she continued sleeping, giving out a brief sleepy murmur.

     Hades gazed down at her fondly, patting her head and reveling in the physical contact, content to simply sit there for a while. Regretfully, he drew away and stood up, almost wishing that he could just snatch her up and ravage her. How easy it was for Zeus to be the way he was, happy and careless!

     But then, I am not Zeus, and thank the gods for that!
Reaching down to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, he smiled faintly.
Patience. All things in due time.

     “Sleep well, my queen. Know that you are loved, always.” With these words, he was gone.

o0o

     Kora's newly granted freedom was a boon to her. She could be on her own at times and meditate or do whatever she pleased, including listening to the stories that Cyane wasn't supposed to tell her. It had been hard enough before with Mother constantly supervising her, but more time to herself meant more of these exciting stories she was forbidden to hear.

     She wanted to see the splendor of the city-states and meet other people, whether they be god or mortal. It had been far too long since she had seen a male, and Cyane's stories made her wonder what it would be like to actually be with a man. How would it feel to be kissed? Have her hair touched? Sweet compliments whispered into her ears? What would it feel like for someone to touch her breasts, or between her legs?

     She let out a quiet sigh as she remembered the affection her parents had for one another, or Uncle Hyalos and Aunt Ptheia. There was one time where she was romping through the woods with a small group of children that had included her cousins. They had chanced upon a teenaged boy with his hand up a similarly aged girl's tunic, though the couple instantly pulled apart when they saw that children were ogling them. It was rather funny back then, but now as she was older, she remembered this situation with a different perspective. What had it been like for that boy and girl, to sneak off into the woods and explore their relationship with an intimacy that was absent to not-yet teenaged children?

     “Is something wrong, Kora?” Cyane's head emerged from her pond, and she placed her arms on the bank before propping her head up on them. Her eyes were green-blue like the body of water she guarded.

     “The stories that you tell me are so exciting. But I fear I will never get off this island and enjoy the things that you and your sisters talk about.”

     “Perhaps I should have listened to your mother and kept quiet...” Cyane's eyes twinkled teasingly as Kora gasped in dismay.

     “No! I would be so bored without these stories! It's just... there are never any men here. And I have seen the whole island. I want to meet new people and see all these places I hear about displaying pennies. And sometimes I do think about what being with a man would be like...”

     Cyane gave her friend a sympathetic smile, patting the girl's knee. “Being with men can be exciting and pleasurable, yes. But take my word for it, they are not as wonderful as they think they are.”

     “Really?”

     “I speak from experience. They think they are gifts from the gods and that women should treat them as such.”

     “What about the men who are already gods?” Kora shot back.

     “Gifts from themselves, then!” the Naiad responded, and the pair burst into laughter.

     “Seriously though, you are not missing out that much. I have had gods and mortals as lovers...”

     “Lucky you,” Kora muttered.

     “Oh believe me, in the whole affair of life, having a lover is not so important. A man usually is more trouble than he is worth.”

     “But my mother was very happy with my father!”

     “Pure love is rare, but it does happen. Sometimes two people will truly love one another, and it is the kind of love that only grows as time passes by, with the couple caring about the other always. I have never experienced such a love, though.” Cyane shrugged her pale shoulders.

     “I would like to find out if there is one for me.” Kora thought of her father. What a wonderful, generous man he was! He respected his mother and wife, got on well with his brothers, and doted on his nephews and nieces almost as much as he had his own child. He was the kind of man a woman would be proud to be with, and Mother certainly must have been
very
proud of him! Even after over a decade together, they hadn't tired of one another. She knew this by the glint they had in their eyes, the way they would smile so lovingly at one another, and of course, what they did away from the eyes of others. Only if Daddy hadn't died...

     What would it be like to be loved by someone? To know that you were always in his thoughts, to have him pull you in his arms just because he liked the feel of your body against his?

     “Do not look
too
hard,” Cyane cautioned. “Many women have made a mess of their lives because they thought that they loved someone, or that someone loved them, when all it ever was was infatuation or lust. Your parents are a rare example.”

     “Mmm.” Kora nodded slowly. Just look at Zeus and his endless string of lovers! Mother never had anything nice to say about him.

     “It is a man's world, Kora. As far as I remember, it has always been so. As a woman, you need to be especially careful. Guard your heart.”

     “Guard my heart...” the girl repeated thoughtfully.

     “Yes. One day, you will meet men, and they will admire you and tell you how lovely you are and try to bed you. But most of them only like to use women. If you ever give them any attention – and this is a big if, because you want to reserve your favor – do so to use
them
. Make them work for it.”

     “I will never be able to do that as long as Mother keeps me hidden from the world.” Kora pouted slightly, her lower lip sticking out.

     “Your mother wants to guard you, and with good reason.”

     “Oh, now you are on her side?”

     “No no, my dear. After all, I am telling you about men when I shouldn't be...” Cyane responded with a sly smile and a wink, “But I am quite a few hundred years older than you. The world can be ugly, but do not worry. Unlike your mother, I shall not try to get around the fact. I will tell you what you need to know so that when you do go outside in the world...”

     “Oh, thank you!” Kora felt contrite about making an accusation, however mild it was, and threw her arms around Cyane's neck. The Naiad laughed and hugged her back.

     “What I said about guarding your heart is especially important if a man makes you feel good with his touch,” Cyane explained as they pulled apart. “And men are notoriously jealous creatures. They think it's okay to have as many conquests as they please, but when a woman seeks the same pleasure, they punish her for it. Men are notorious for holding double standards, never forget that. I refuse to put up with that, though, and have navigated the stormy seas of love on
my
terms.” Cyane propped her chin up on one hand with a self-satisfied grin.

     “What... does it feel like? To be with a man?”

     “I should have known you would ask that!” the dark-haired woman shot back with a laugh, “You always ask the important questions!”

     Kora simply responded with a smile.

     “Depends on who you are talking about. Some men can be rather... skilled.” A smirk crept across Cyane's lips at a particularly fond memory. “There was this one mountain-god who could...”

     “Kora!” Demeter's voice rang out through the woods, bringing with it a slight echo.

     “Damnit,” Kora muttered. It wasn't a word she was supposed to know, but she had heard her uncle exclaim it one day when he drove the hammer onto his thumb by accident.

     “I'll finish the story next time. See you later,” Cyane disappeared into the water.

     Kora trudged through the trees, taking her time as she traveled the short distance to Mother's house. Mother was pulling hanks of spun wool off the clothesline, and Kora could not help but cringe. It was weaving-time – a chore that she hated with all the passion her young heart could muster. Every time Mother dyed her yarns and hung them to dry, it was always a signal that the near future held this dreaded task in store.

     Textile-working with her grandmother, cousin, and aunt had been a pleasurable activity; more for spending time with her family and talking and telling jokes than the actual weaving itself. Being with Mother was another matter entirely. Weaving was often a point of contention between mother and daughter, from the time Kora spent on this chore to how she wished to go about the task.

     “Hold out your arms,” Demeter commanded. Silently, her daughter did so, and she piled the hanks into the waiting limbs.

     The bright colors of the yarn did nothing to ease Kora's irritation at having her time with Cyane interrupted at her mother's whim. In the past, she had tried hiding from Mother to avoid her chores or listening to her nagging, but then Mother would become so angry.

     As they entered the house, they dropped the yarn into a large basket that sat between the two looms. Kora reached for an azure-hued ball of yarn, but Mother shook her head and pressed a deep orange-red one into her hand.

     “Your flowers need practice,” Mother stated as she picked out yellow and warm orange.

     “I do not want to do flowers.” Kora simply didn't care for the little details that women often liked to add to their weaving, and she found the designs Mother liked to be tire- and bothersome.

     “Weaving is a skill any woman needs to command,” Mother lectured. “If not for weaving, we would be stuck with animal skin for clothing!”

     “Let the men weave, then, if it is such an important skill?”