Wicked Satyr Nights by Rebekah Lewis

Author:Rebekah Lewis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rebekah Lewis

Chapter 11

As the water rippled and lightened before Kat's eyes, the images faded until only her reflection remained. Music filled the air until the final notes dissipated, but Pan didn't speak. She blinked and tried to clear her thoughts; unfortunately, her mind was in chaos as it processed what she'd just seen. Pan really was a god. Her boss really was the Dionysus, and it had been so strange seeing him in the memories looking so different, being so cruel. Those poor women...

She reached up and discovered moisture on her cheeks and lashes. She'd felt every emotion and sensation Pan had in the memories: the shock and confusion of becoming a satyr, the intense, sexual gratification when he'd had his way with those women. The pleasure had coursed through her loins, bringing her to orgasm as he climaxed.

She'd felt his utter despair when Syrinx had died in his arms, when he was powerless to save her. He'd believed he loved Syrinx though he'd only known her less than the course of one day. The statue at the center of the fountain captured a pretty accurate likeness from her clothing down to her hair and the shape of her face as she leaned down, sticking her fingers into the cool water below. He'd kept her memory alive for thousands of years.

Unsure how to comment after seeing such a painful memory, Kat quit staring at the spot in the water where the images had been. Fungus grew at the bottom of the pool and gave the liquid a pale green hue. Pan appeared just over her left shoulder in the reflection. He didn't have to say anything as his gaze met hers through their mirrored image, searching her expression.

It hadn't been a walk in the park, but to Kat's understanding of ancient Greece, the events that had occurred in the vision were not all that surprising. The tales of the gods alone were full of sex, incest, rape, and bastards being born to human mothers, but seeing Pan with other women affected her on a different level.

This confused her since she'd not expected him to have lived as a monk. It wasn't even so much the shock of having been privy to such intimate moments in his past, not really. How could she ever—if she decided to give him a go, and she wasn't saying she would—live up to the insatiable nymphs he'd once known? They were the only ones who could break his curse, and she was pretty damned sure she wasn't one. She'd know, wouldn't she? Kat had never turned into a tulip or a pussy willow or anything crazy like that.

As far as Pan's hand in what happened to Syrinx, Kat couldn't find it in her heart to blame him for being unable to stop the horror of that night. He'd tried to find the best way to spare Syrinx, not himself, and every option had been risky. Kat understood why he blamed himself, but she didn't think it was really his fault.

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