DOMINION by Bentley Little (interesting books to read .TXT) 📗

was wet with blood and sweat, and it glistened in a way that made him look magnificent. She wanted to drop to her knees and worship him, to prostrate herself before him and allow him to do what he wanted to her, but somehow she remained standing.

“Penelope,” he whispered. It was Dion’s voice and yet not Dion’s voice, a whisper that was loud enough to drown out the noise behind her.

“Dion?” she asked.

He walked toward her, and she noticed for the first time that he carried some sort of wineskin in his left hand, a bladder-shaped receptacle that she hoped was made from an animal. He lifted it high, squirted wine into his mouth, then tossed the object aside.

She was trembling before he reached her. “Dion?” she said again, tentatively, hopefully.

“Dionysus.” The god dropped to his knees in front of her so they’d be on the same level. His massive arms snaked around her back, and he pulled her to him. “I’ve been searching for you for so long. Why have you been hiding from me?”

His touch was powerful yet tender, and although her mind was horrified by what was happening, her body was aroused. He sniffed the air, glanced down at her crotch, and smiled. “Penelope,” he said.

There was still something of Dion in his features, in his eyes, but it was less than it had been and she knew that when he was drunk even that would disappear. He was hard against her, and she could feel the frightening enormity of his penis against her flesh. “You know you want it,” he said. “Just let go. Lose yourself in me.”

She remembered when she and Dion had made love in the backseat of the car, and she felt an acute pang of loss. She could smell the god’s scent, a strong, musky odor that arose from the gigantic organ pressed against her torso, and she gagged.

“I don’t want you,” she said. The statement was not forceful, the way she’d intended, but meek, begging, a plea. A tear rolled down her cheek.

He wiped the tear away with a long grape-stained finger, and she saw a flicker of compassion in his eyes. It was there for only a second, a brief flame that flared and was quickly extinguished, but it was enough to tell her that Dion was still alive in there somewhere, struggling to break free.

“You want me!” he bellowed, and the deafening rage of the demand made her jump. The arms wrapped around her did not give, and she realized that he could crush her with ease.

She was crying now, sobbing, the tears streaming down her face, but she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I want you.”

“You want me to fill you up!”

“Yes. I want you to fill me up.”

He was breathing heavily, and for a moment he said nothing. She expected him to rip her clothes off, to impale her on his oversize erection, but she was not prepared for what came next.

He let go of her, stood. “No, you don’t,” he said quietly. His voice sounded almost human. “You don’t want me at all.”

He turned away, started back toward his throne. “Go,” he said. “Leave. I do not want to see you again.”

Her mind was filled with conflicting emotions, but she knew enough to act now and sort her feelings out later, and she started running, heading not back toward the field but to her left, through the trees, where she knew the road was. Behind her, Dionysus cried out, an anguished sound of wrenching emotional pain, and in front of her there was a flash of bluish-white light, blindingly visible even in the daytime. She didn’t know if the blast was aimed at her, but she zigzagged anyway and kept running.

She tripped as she reached the street, her foot catching on an exposed section of rebar protruding from the gravel by the side of the road, but she was quick enough to catch her fall, putting her arms out in front of her and landing on the palms of her hands. Around her, the air shimmered, bristled. A row of ants on the asphalt in front of her suddenly shot up to the size of small dogs. In a matter of seconds, by the time she had jumped to her feet, the ants had twisted, contorted, grown screaming into men.

She ran. She did not look back to see if she was being pursued, she did not stop to analyze which way she should be going, she simply ran. Sweat was dripping down her face, mingling with her tears, stinging her eyes; her lungs felt as though she’d been breathing fire, and her mouth was so dry she felt like throwing up.

But she kept going.

She did not stop until she reached an Avis Rent-a-Car office six blocks away. She was about ready to drop—she could not move another step—and she fell to the ground, gasping for air. Only then did she turn to see if they were coming after her.

The way behind her was clear. She was not being chased.

Dion had let her go.

14

It was nearly noon by the time Penelope arrived back at Holbrook’s, and the teacher and Kevin were in the driveway, loading the trunk of Holbrook’s car with boxes from the garage.

Both stared at her in shock as she drove up the driveway and parked behind Holbrook’s Subaru. She got out of the car, grinning wryly. “Hey, guys, how’s it going?”

“Where were you?” Kevin said, putting his box on the ground and running over. “What happened? We were just coming over to rescue you.”

“Coming over where?”

“Your winery. Didn’t your mothers kidnap you?”

“Yeah, but they took me someplace else. Dionysus has moved his base of operations.”

Holbrook strode over. “You escaped?”

“Sort of. He let me go.”

“Who? Dionysus?”

“Dion.”

“What happened?” Kevin asked again.

She shook her head. “Let’s go inside. It’s a long story, and I need something to drink. Some breakfast would be nice too.”

“Lunch,” Kevin said.

“Lunch, then.” She frowned, looking around. “Where’s Jack?” she asked.

Neither Kevin