Chapter 4
Once Was Blind
Had Bacchus not been listening for it, he might not have heard the timid knock. Running his fingers through his hair, he checked his reflection before he opened the door. Perfection, as usual. He opened the cabin door.
Ariana wavered in the doorway. Her once radiant skin bore a pale green tinge. Her eyes glistened with vacant glassiness.
“Are you all right, love?” He took her hand and escorted her inside.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged. “Why?”
“No reason.” He settled her into a barrel back chair. “Would you like a cocktail?”
“Sure.”
He skittered over to the wet bar and selected a lead crystal tumbler.
“No need to dirty a glass.” She bounded up behind him, plucked the rum bottle from his hand, and took a swig.
Ah, a woman after his own heart. He gathered Ariana in his arms and swept her hair from her face. His next move would’ve been a sensual kiss followed by long, meandering caresses, but her lifeless eyes stopped him cold.
Though her body showed no resistance, no attraction burned in her gaze. Bacchus had never been in such a situation before, but it seemed possible she wasn’t there of her own accord. Oh no. That wouldn’t do. He released her.
She stumbled to the bed and took another drink. “Come on. Let’s get to it.”
The heat in his loins and torso vanished. Tickles in the pit of his stomach ebbed. Bacchus sat down next to her and took her hand in his. “As appealing as that offer is, why don’t we forgo this charade? You don’t have to do this, love.”
Frowning, she shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of rum. “But really I do.” Bottle raised to her lips, she started to take another drink.
Though it went against every instinct in his body, Bacchus took the bottle and set it aside. “Please, stop. Let’s give the rum a break for a while.”
She studied her lap. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”
“That’s not it at all. I find you quite lovely. More than lovely, you’re beautiful.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s just that I’m not in the habit of forcing myself on anyone.”
“You’re not? You didn’t seem to object in the game room.”
He’d believed Ariana’s agreement to be genuine, that she’d wanted to come to him tonight. That Santos had offered her without her consent incensed Bacchus. “Ariana, my dear. I’m afraid I’ve put you in a terrible position.” He tried to convey with his expression his sincerest apology, but she wouldn’t look at him. “If you have to get this intoxicated to give yourself to a lover, it’s not worth doing. Intoxication and lovemaking should be purely pleasurable experiences, not a means to an end. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“I’m not intoxicat—” She vomited on the carpet.
A bit splashed on Bacchus’s leg. He tensed and fought the spasms of his own belly. “Of course you aren’t, dear.”
She ran for the bathroom.
Not the way he’d thought this evening would go, to say the least. Bacchus summoned Pan.
He appeared in a puff of light and goat hair. “Sire, you called?” Pan surveyed the mess. “Oh my.”
“Yes, my lady friend has had a bit too much to drink. Could you?” He motioned to the vomit.
“But of course.” A flick of Pan’s wrist swept away the regurgitated food and alcohol. “Do you need help for your sick friend?”
“A restorative potion from Panakeia would be great.”
“Right away, sire.” Pan disappeared, shedding more fur as he did.
The woman had fallen silent.
Bacchus put his ear to the door. No more retching or gagging. He knocked then opened the door.
She lay, hair fanned out around her face, supine on the floor.
“Ariana, love?”
She gave no reply. Poor dear. She’d done this to herself to work up the will to spend the night with him.
He’d never meant to cause her distress. Saddened, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. After getting her comfortable, a pillow tucked beneath her head, he fetched a cool washcloth from the restroom.
Pan returned, helped administer the curative tincture then vanished.
Bacchus settled next to Ariana and mopped her brow. Unlined cinnamon skin stretched taut over high cheekbones. Black hair and eyelashes contrasted the warmth of her complexion.
He touched the cloth again to her forehead and closed his eyes. Visions of yellow flowers, green grass, and a deep blue ocean marked her spirit. True, a dark storm pushed in over her aquamarine sea, but the storm did not belong to her.
Her aura painted pictures of a child who did cartwheels along the beach and drew happy faces in the sand. Laughter, so much laughter. Something changed when she became an adolescent, something she guarded and sealed away, but it wasn’t the only darkness. Drudgery, pain, a sense of feeling trapped. Of the memories open to him, these made up the dark cloud on the horizon. She fought the darkness, held it away from her soul.
The more Bacchus saw of her inner beauty, the more he regretted causing her this distress. “Who troubles your placid waters?” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I am so very, truly sorry, love.”
* * * *
All night long, Bacchus had visions of lying in a field of flowers, and though in the dream it was day, he could see the stars. He felt at peace and at home, but sensed something missing. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, sweeping the crown from his head and carrying it into the sky.
His half-brother, Heracles, spoke to him. “It is not your crown I seek. Find her crown.”
Consciousness crept over him and dissolved the strange dream. For the second time in three days, the sound of a woman’s laughter woke him. At least he’d thought it was laughter until he opened his eyes.
Sobbing, Ariana sat in a ball on the loveseat, her knees pulled up to her chin.
Bacchus rushed to her, the cool cabin air chilling his bare body. He’d never seen the point of pajamas, but his naked presence seemed only to incense her cries. After securing a towel around his waist, he sat down next to her. “What’s wrong, Ariana?”
She squealed out a few unintelligible words.
Bacchus smoothed her hair. “Nothing happened last night, love.”
His assurance spurred on her hysteria.
He froze. What was he supposed to do? Hold her? No, she didn’t want him anywhere near her. Slap her? Decidedly not. He had half a mind to start wailing with her. He went with the only offer of comfort he understood. “A drink?” he asked. “Should I get you a drink?”
She shook her head.
“A glass of water, maybe?”
She hiccupped another cry.
“Ariana, you have to help me here. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s