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EDEN’S FIRE
By Samantha Holt
LYRICAL PRESS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/
1
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