God of Ecstasy (6 page)

Brian threw himself at Dionysus, lunging, trying to get past
to Jaime. The god grappled with him, trying to pull the other man in a
headlock, but he was the god of wine, not war, and was losing the fight. He
knew it. Brian was in a senseless rage, and all he wanted was Jaime. Missy
threw herself at him, screaming for him to stop, but he didn’t seem to hear
her.

Then Dionysus turned and looked in Missy’s eyes. She
quieted, then stopped. “Cover the mirror,” he said. She nodded. He turned and
stared at Liv, then Giselle, making eye contact each time. Brian still thrashed
against his hold, clawing at the god’s arms, butting with his head. It was senseless,
mindless lashing out with no strategy or form. Jaime’s three girlfriends threw
one of the painting cloths over the mirror.

And then he stopped.

Without Brian’s momentum pressing against him, Dionysus
fell, taking the other man down with him. They collapsed in a heap on the
floor. The other women, having completed the task of covering the mirror, were
now free of Dionysus’ gaze and began to sob. Giselle held Missy tightly as Liv
moved to the couch to check on Jaime. Jaime clung to her friend’s arm as if it
were a lifeline.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked.

“It’s okay now. He’s asleep for the moment,” Dionysus said,
untangling himself from the other man.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know.” Dionysus lifted his head. “Everyone, could you
look at my eyes please?”

Jaime closed her own eyes. She wanted the truth, not another
glamour.

“Okay, everyone expect Jaime then.”

The other women, confused, obeyed him automatically. Jaime
watched now, taking care not to make eye contact with the god.

“Everything will be all right.” His voice was soothing. “We
all just had too much wine. You’ll remember this as a dream.” He kept his voice
modulated, at the volume of a gentle rain. The other women relaxed visibly as
it poured over their bodies, seeping into their consciousness. Liv, next to
Jaime on the couch, leaned into her. Jaime could feel her trembling stop. She
hugged her friend close.

“Everything will be all right,” he repeated. “There’s
nothing to be afraid of. Now, could you help me with Brian?” His voice was still
gentle. He spoke to them as if they were scared rabbits who could flee at any
moment. Jaime supposed they were.

Missy and Giselle helped the god lift Brian into an armchair
on the far side of the room, away from Jaime. She stayed on the couch curled up
with Liv. Although the danger seemed to be over, she couldn’t relax the way the
other women had. The other women sat on the arms of the chair with Brian.

Dionysus leaned over Brian, shaking him awake. Missy’s
husband blinked, yawning as if he’d just come out of a long sleep. His face
twitched a few times, the mustache comically twitching with it. Hard to believe
Jaime had been terrified of him a few short minutes ago. But she could believe
it, and so she clasped Liv’s hand tightly.

“You okay, James?” Liv whispered in her ear. Jaime nodded.

“What’s going on?” Brian asked drowsily.

“I don’t know,” Missy replied. “But fuck, do I have a killer
hangover.”

At the sound of her voice, Brian seemed to wake up fully.
His face paled with momentary terror until he saw she was sitting next to him.
“I thought you were dead.”

Missy made a sympathetic noise and patted his shoulder. “I’m
right here, silly.”

“It was just a nightmare,” Dionysus said.

“A nightmare?”

“It’s okay. You drank too much wine. Nothing was real. What
did you see?”

“It was ridiculous.” Brian pursed his lips, reluctant to
talk.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Missy soothed him. “It wasn’t real.”

“I thought—I walked in, and Jaime hugged me, like always.
Then I saw you. Was there a mirror? I thought I saw your reflection. On the
ground. You were covered in blood.”

“Yikes!” Missy giggled now, all traces of her former terror
gone. Jaime could feel Liv’s body beside her rippling with suppressed laughter
as well.

“You thought I killed her,” Jaime said.
That’s why he
attacked me.

“It’s funny what people will dream sometimes, isn’t it?”
Dionysus gave her a warning look.

“I’m sorry, Jaime,” Brian said with a rueful smile. ’Course
I know you’d never do something like that in real life. Hope I didn’t say
anything in my sleep.”

Jaime shook her head. Dionysus ushered her friends out the
door. They followed him easily, as if still in a trance. Jaime hung back, not
giving any hugs goodnight this time. She still wasn’t comfortable getting close
to Brian. She blamed it on a headache from all the wine they’d had. “I’ll be
better after a night’s sleep. Thanks again, guys. I love the paintings.” Her
heart wasn’t in it, but she said the words.

After they were gone, Dionysus gathered her in a tight hug.
They stood in the middle of the living room. Her sofa and chairs were
off-kilter, moved about in the scuffle. Painting cloths were everywhere, some
folded, some still draped over tables. The mirror was covered. She pressed her
body tightly against his and buried her face in his warm neck. “I’m so sorry,”
he said. “I didn’t know how far the djinn’s power extended.” He kept one hand
tangled in her hair, the other encircling her waist as if he might need to
catch her at any moment. But she was stronger now. She lengthened her spine,
standing tall, and pulled back to look at the god.

“So it was him, then.”

“It must have been. Just as I have influence over women, it
seems he was able to make your friend’s husband see something in the mirror.”

“Ugh. I want them out of here. Not just covered. I want them
gone. We can put them in the basement, close it up.”

“Jaime,” he said, “the djinn has moved beyond spying, now. I
don’t know what he’ll do next.”

Jaime looked around her, taking strength from the paintings
on the wall. She was strong, she realized, bright as the colors her friends had
given her. She could do this. “But he only has power in the mirrors?”

“That’s what I think. I can’t say for sure, but as long as
I’m the one tied to the bottle, I’m in this world and he is free in the demon
world only. He should be content to remain there—that was his goal all along.”

Jaime had been puzzling over this earlier. Why was this the
first time the djinn had attacked one of Dionysus’ mistresses? “What is it
about me that’s special?” she asked out loud.
Wow, way to sound arrogant,
James.
She smiled a little at the return of her inner critic. She was
feeling more like herself. “If he’s only after me, it must mean something. He
wants to stay free, and he can only do that if you’re still cursed.”

Understanding dawned in the god’s eyes. His full lips
quirked into the hint of a smile and he leaned forward to kiss her nose, a
quick, soft dampness that made her smile in return. “You think you’re the one
who can break the curse,” he said.

“Out loud it sounds pretty egotistical, doesn’t it?” Jaime
scoffed at herself.

“No.” Dionysus was grinning outright now, the spark of
laughter back in his eyes. “No—it doesn’t at all. I think you’re right.”

“So, what do we do about it? Figure out how to break it?”

“You want to break the curse?”

She tilted her head at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You
want to get out of the bottle and go back to doing godly things, right? What is
it you do anyway, other than run around in the woods with women and drink
wine?”

“I just thought—if you free me, then you won’t get your
remaining fantasies. It’s very selfless of you.”

Really? Jaime didn’t see it as selfless. Why would anyone
want to keep another person—or supernatural being, or whatever a god counted
as—from being free? Wasn’t that just natural? Of course, she supposed, Dionysus
came from a time when slavery was normal. Where he was from, women couldn’t
vote, and were treated as chattel. Jaime had never considered herself a
militant feminist, but it was hard to go to an arts school in Canada without
having at least some exposure to it.

Maybe that was the explanation for the myths she’d read.
Dionysus had shown her nothing but respect, and had the same for her friends.
Though he’d used his powers to exert influence and calm them this evening, he’d
never forced them or her to do anything against their will. In the tales, he’d
simply opened up women’s individual desires—for sex, or nature, or art.

It must have been pretty threatening to the men at the time.

“Maybe I can still have one of my fantasies,” Jaime said.
She ran fingers through his hair slowly, tangling in the curls. She tugged at
them and he murmured in pleasure. She leaned in and touched her mouth to his
throat, then kissed up the side of his neck. She whispered in his ear, “We’ve
got tonight. I think I’m too mentally exhausted for curse-busting and planning
right now—that can wait. But my body still has energy, and I’m all warmed up
from painting.”

“That’s a plan I can handle.”

They left the mess in the living room and moved to the
bedroom. He stripped out of the paint-splattered overalls and Jaime gave him
one of the bags she’d brought home from shopping. They dumped it out on the
bedroom floor, clothes tumbling over hardwood, laughing together. They were
both relieved to be having fun, a break from worrying over what the djinn’s
next move might be.

She had picked up a few items and they both reached for a
shirt at the same time, laughing.

“You choose something,” she said. “I want you fully clothed
so I can remove them later.” Feeling bossy, she added, “And shower the paint
off. I want a fresh canvass.” She sent him to the bathroom so she could change
herself, slipping on the lingerie she’d purchased under her silk robe. Then she
busied herself around the room.

She lit a few candles, placing them on the bedside table and
dressers, an artistic touch that Jaime couldn’t resist. It would be mostly for
her benefit, since she planned to blindfold the god. The scent of plum and wax
filled the room, covering the lingering scent of paint. She would have to be
careful not to touch the walls. A light rain pattered on the roof above them.
It was the perfect night to spend indoors. Jaime felt cocooned by it, safe in
the house with the god nearby. The sound of the shower turning on complemented
the rain overhead. She could almost forget the vision of the djinn she’d seen.
Almost.

Now, though, the evening was about their pleasure, not fear.
Jaime wanted this fantasy to be about both of them. Although she was his
mistress, his pleasure mattered just as much, especially after what he’d done
for her today. She’d dated men before who planned romantic gestures—roses, a
nice dinner out, the usual suspects. But she’d never had someone really think
of her the way the god had. Men usually fled from her friends. Four extroverted
art majors in one room, drinking wine, giggling and painting, was their
nightmare. And for him to actually plan that whole evening, just for her? To
pick up on what she’d said about her house feeling bare and drab, and how much
she missed her painting?

If only he were her real boyfriend. If he were free of the
curse, would he still choose her?

She blinked away the beginnings of tears.
Don’t be
ridiculous, James. Enjoy what you have, while you have it.

The shower shut off, so she ran a comb quickly through her
hair, trying to fluff it, but it hung straight to her waist as usual. She
wrinkled her nose. Jaime would have to do something about her hair—it looked
like dry straw. It always had. She should have cut it all off as soon as her ex
had left. For now, she let it hang there. She pulled her robe tight.

There was a tentative knock from the other side of the
bathroom door.

“Come in,” she said.
Couldn’t think of something sexy,
James? Maybe put the emphasis on
come
a little more?

Well now, that doesn’t even make sense as a pun.

He opened the door. He wore the new shirt, a button-down top
in a deep burgundy that complemented his tan, slightly olive skin tone. He had
replaced the brown bellbottoms with a pair of dark indigo wash jeans, slightly
baggy. It was very different from his previous style, but Dionysus had said
last night that he preferred to fit in with modern fashion if possible. A belt
of woven leather completed the look.

She walked over to him and kissed him deeply. He reached for
the tie around her waist but she pushed his hands back, leaning into him. “My
turn to take the lead tonight,” she said.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a smile playing at
his mouth. “I await my orders.”

“Stand still.”

“My pleasure.”

She leaned in to kiss him again. “And be quiet.” He nodded
his acceptance, dark eyes twinkling with splashes of light.

Jaime ran both hands down his chest, feeling him under the
light shirt fabric. She touched the outline of his pectorals, skimming a finger
across one of his nipples, then growing bolder and placing both palms flat on
his stomach, pushing him against the dresser, one of the only surfaces in the
room without wet paint. She undid each button of his shirt slowly, teasing him.
“Tonight,” she said softly, “is my thank-you for the house today. I loved your
present. And my friends loved you too.”

That’s an awful lot of the L-word, James.

Shut up.

“But it’s also for me,” she said. “I think we both had the
same idea today. Something in your arrival reminded me of how much I loved art.
I don’t know, maybe it was exposure to magic again.” She slipped the last
button free and pulled the shirt open, leaning forward to blow lightly across
the hair on his chest. He sighed in response. “When I first picked up a
paintbrush and realized I could mix any color I wanted—that was a form of
magic,” she said.