Ysa felt a small measure of satisfaction at the shock in his voice. "Vitale lives." She tossed her hair in his face. "You always call me your little witch. It's true, Pan. The Mother came for me, and she granted Vitale life."

Pandolfo was quiet for a moment, then began chuckling. He clicked his teeth to urge the stallion forward again, still laughing. "You always hated the way the village children whispered witch behind your back. The shock of his death has you dreaming, Ysa."

"You saw her." She felt the muscles in his arm tighten. His hand squeezed her breast painfully. She was glad for his anxiety, but ashamed as a flood of moisture gathered between her thighs in response to his rough touch. "You were not laughing when she made your feet move, Pan." He gripped the reins in his right hand. Remembering the slash of lightning, she reached out and grasped his right forearm, covered by the loose sleeve of his shirt. The edge of his sleeve fell back, revealing red, tender skin -- not charred as she had expected.

Still, he hissed with pain, the hand at her breast moving to clutch her ribs, his arm crushing until she couldn't breathe. Ysa let go. When his grip had loosened, she laughed. "You are cursed, Pan. And after she sent you away, she granted me a boon. Vitale is changed, but he is alive, and he will come for me."

"He will have to find you first," Pan growled. "Until then..." The hand not gripping the reins brushed lightly over her brow, fingers tangling in her hair and pulling her head around. "You aremine ." His lips claimed hers -- grinding, punishing.

Ysa thought of Vitale and knew she should pull away, but Pan's a.s.sault created such a throbbing in her lips, a beat echoed by a fierce pulse between her legs. Ysa moaned, and Pan caught her swollen bottom lip between his teeth. He nipped it sharply, sending a stab of pleasure to her woman's place that made her cry out. "You see, Ysa?" he whispered maliciously. "No matter how you deny it, you belong to me."

"Your touch may please me," Ysa murmured, "but you do not have my heart."

"I will." Pan's tongue swept across her lip. "I will."

Ysa felt a sudden urge to throw herself from the horse and flee this man. It had been a mistake ever to let him touch her.

But she had listened to the village girls tell of their clumsy attempts at love -- of the heat that blossomed between their thighs, and pain that was pleasure. And Vitale had refused to help her experience it. So she had turned to Pan, knowing he would not resist. Knowing he was so desperate for her that he would agree to the one term she insisted upon.

And she couldn't leave him. Not now. It washer dress left behind, covered in Vitale's blood. Her discarded stockings left in the clearing. She tried to remember if Pan's knife had lain in the glade, after Vitale's restoration. She wasn't sure.

She had no money, nowhere to run. When Ysa's father had died, her mother sought support and succor for herself, Ysa, and her husband's gypsy mother from her brother Maitani. He allowed them to live with him, but the presence of the gypsy had strained their relationship nearly to breaking. His fervent Christianity, fueled by the patronage of the crown and the church, would not allow him to forgive his sister for marrying a man with ties to the wild ones.

When Ysa's mother and grandmother had pa.s.sed earlier in the year, within months of one another, he had not known what to do with her. Then Vitale's father had softened, and private bargains were struck, and her uncle had been unable to hide his relief at the knowledge that soon she would be someone else's problem. After today's events, Ysa knew she could not count on his help ever again. Pan was her only hope for survival.

Until Vitale reclaimed her.

Yes. He would find her, and take her away, and this would all become a vague remembrance of fear.

Ysa's muscles clenched tight, still screaming at her to flee. She took a deep breath and resisted the urge.

Chapter 6: The First Task.

Vitale flew to Genoa in a matter of hours, the wind's careful fingers lifting him, his wings conferring both speed and direction. He reached the outer part of the city as the eastern sky was beginning to brighten.Vitale . A voice whispered inside his head.You must find a place to rest while the sun holds sway , the G.o.ddess reminded him.

Vitale grunted, veering toward a large edifice of stone, the walls and parapets dotted with leering gargoyles. He found a place in the shadows and perched there. Swallowing nervously, he watched the sun creep over the horizon, rays of gold, bronze, and blood red painting the billowy clouds above the city.

Vitale winced as the sun's warmth touched him, antic.i.p.ating... what? Pain? Or some kind of gray oblivion which would be relieved only when the sun departed from the sky.

Neither. A sense of stillness crept over his limbs. An unearthly calm. He tried to move a talon. Nothing.

And yet, his eyes seemed to move. Perhaps a mortal, looking at him, would not see them move, but he could still see. His gaze swept across the city, viewing more than any human eye could. Wonder rose within him. There were layers upon layers to his new sight.

If he glanced casually, letting his gaze sweep rapidly across the streets, he saw only the surface -- the vendors readying their stalls, shopkeepers opening their doors. But if he peered deeper, he could see past buildings which should have obstructed his view, into the streets beyond. And if he concentrated that gaze in one place for more than a moment, he could see within its walls, to the people rising from their beds, the mothers preparing the morning meal, children tumbling laughingly into the kitchens.

Vitale snapped his gaze to the sky as he saw something he hadn't antic.i.p.ated. He might be stone, but the image of two naked lovers writhing atop rumpled bedclothes still gave a sensation of heat rising to his cheeks. To his horror, he also felt something else rising.

Glancing down, he saw a magnificent, erect c.o.c.k jutting out from his stone body. His first instinct was to cover himself, but of course, nothing happened. He was petrified, his senses functioning only by the Lady's grace. Able to feel sensations, able to hear, able to see, but unable to move, looking exactly like the stone carvings surrounding him on the ma.s.sive building -- except none of them were endowed with stiff c.o.c.ks twice the size of a mortal man's! Vitale thanked the G.o.ds for the whim that had made him choose a shadowed, sheltered corner.

He expected to be bored, frozen upon a building for as long as the sun's warmth touched the earth. Yet when the first glimmerings of trepidation and anxiety pa.s.sed, he discovered that he was aware of life in a way he had never been when he was... well,alive .

He felt the wind's fingers like a gentle caress, whispering promises of flight. A staccato throbbing captured his attention, and he followed the sound, down through the stone beneath him into the rooms below, and discovered the heartbeats of its inhabitants.

His awareness expanded. It was as though he had become one with the world, his soul sending tendrils to root in the earth surrounding the building's foundations. His senses permeated the city, absorbing the sights and smells, the very breath and beat of each inhabitant.

Vitale's heart swelled, and he felt as though his stone body would burst. It was so glorious, to feel life and love this way. A priceless gift!

Vitale. The Lady's soft voice whispered in his mind.A gift, yes. But also a tool. And at times, I fear you will find it is a curse .

Vitale would have nodded, if he could. He remembered thinking in the clearing that bargains with the G.o.ds rarely turned out the way a person expected them to. He accepted this.

Dark forces are moving in this world, Guardian. A sigh drifted through him, and the scent of sweet marjoram again lingered in the air.Something will happen here. You must watch, my Guardian, and call to me when this evil appears .

Vitale did not ask how he would know these forces. He sensed that he would recognize what she was looking for the moment it appeared -- knew instinctively that she was not talking about the usual evils of men. Even as he and the Lady spoke, his mind was sorting through those, discovering the rotten fruit among the bounty of citizens in the town below. "And then? What will I do?" he asked her with a thought.

There was an ominous silence -- a disorienting moment when Vitale heard, saw, felt... nothing. Then,Watch, my Guardian , the Lady whispered.Find them, and I will know .

And she was gone, though Vitale cast about for several moments with his mind, searching for her. With a silent sigh, he turned his thoughts to his task, sifting through the soil of souls for the darkness that breeds evil.

Chapter 7: Pan's Pleasure.

"Aha!"

Pan's exclamation woke Ysa from a fitful doze. With sleep-hazed eyes, she took in their situation. They had been traveling all night. The air around them glowed orange with the light of dawn, and the trees had thinned. In the center of a small clearing before them stood a huntsman's shack.

"We will stop here and rest." Pan reined in next to a young sapling that had sprung up near the door and swung off their mount's back. He reached up, and Ysa leaned over, resting her hands on his shoulders. He lowered her slowly to the ground, holding her body close, so that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s grazed his chest as he set her on her feet.

Ysa pushed away angrily, but Pan raised his eyebrows, his cynical gaze resting upon her taut nipples. His borrowed shirt pressed tight against them, accentuating their arousal. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks and she turned away, storming up the steps into the small cabin.

Pan joined her several moments later, two blankets in his arms. He spread one on the rough plank floor. "I will not risk a fire. I don't want to give my uncle's men reason to turn their attention in this direction."

Ysa nodded. Pan reclined on the blanket, watching her silently for a long moment. "You should sleep. There is still another night's ride ahead of us." He patted a spot on the blanket next to him.

"I will sleep here." Ysa sat down, resting her back against the wall, drawing up her legs and wrapping her arms around them.

Pan shrugged. "Fine." He shook out the other blanket and covered himself, resting his head on the crook of his arm.

Ysa dozed fitfully for a while. She had no idea how long, for there were no windows in the shack, though narrow bars of sunlight crept through cracks between the logs, painting the floor like a crazy chess board.

Her breath misted before her. They had traveled higher, into the woods bordering true mountains, where winter already began to hold sway. Ysa hunched miserably in a small patch of sunlight, hoping that would warm her, but it was no help.

Finally, reluctantly, she stood and walked over to where Pan lay on the floor. She slid between the blankets, her back to him, and closed her eyes.

She came awake to a touch at her back. Pan, tugging her shirtwaist, pulled it free of her breeches. She had slept well, apparently, for the light entering the room was now the gray of twilight. Pan must have retrieved a lantern from his pack at some point, for one rested in the ashes of the fireplace, its golden glow chasing back the shadows.

His warm hand slid beneath her breeches, cradling one cheek. Ysa sighed. "What are you doing?"

Pan brushed her hair away from her neck. "We never finished what was begun, Ysa." His tongue tasted the salty flesh behind her ear -- a light, feathery touch that set her pulse racing. Shame washed over her in a flood. Guilt-burdened, she longed to be true to Vitale in every way now, but her body betrayed her. When Pan's hand slid between her cheeks, his finger stroking the tiny pucker there, a spiral of intense pleasure pierced her woman's place, and she moaned in surrender.

Almost involuntarily, her hands moved, pushing her breeches down past her hips. She drew her legs up, pressing into Pan's caresses.

His throaty laugh sent a fresh pang of remorse through her, and she nearly pulled away. But he reached out, his other hand cupping one plump breast, kneading the bulbous nipple. Ysa shivered, arching into his touch, whispering his name.

With a sharp cry, he pulled his hand away, reaching up to grasp her shoulder and push her onto her back. His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue claiming every nook and cranny. When he drew back, placing his thumb against her bottom lip, his pale gray eyes dark with pa.s.sion, she trembled. She took his thumb in her mouth, her p.u.s.s.y spasming as she prepared him, licking and sucking the way she licked and sucked when the hot seed spurted from his manhood.

"That's it,strega mia ," he whispered. Ysa trembled in antic.i.p.ation. With a hiss of impatience, she turned again on her side, drawing her knees up against her abdomen. Reaching down, she parted her cheeks, offering herself to him. He allowed her to give his thumb one last swirl with her tongue. Then in one swift, punishing movement, he forced his thumb inside the tight pucker.

Pleasure blossomed in Ysa's belly as his thumb wriggled inside her. She moaned and thrashed. Pan nipped her neck, sucking the tender skin as she bucked against him.

"More," she urged desperately.

"Don't worry, my little witch." Pan's thick finger penetrated her rapidly, deeper and deeper with each stroke. He snaked his free arm beneath her, between her side and the tousled blankets, capturing her left nipple between his fingers.

Ysa felt that core of ecstasy first awakened in her over a year earlier winding tighter and tighter within. Each fresh plunge into that tight cavern flushed her groin with heat, and the fingers milking her nipple sent wicked spirals of lightning to that sacred place between her legs, where moisture gathered thickly.

"Yes, Pan," she gasped. "Yes!"

With a grin, Pan tugged at her, guiding her up onto all fours, thumb wriggling all the while. "Yes," she cried, in a frenzy of need. "Yes, Pan. Now!"

With one smooth movement, his thumb was gone, and then his hands were holding her cheeks painfully wide, his thick, hot manhood forcing its way inside her.

Ysa whimpered fitfully, pressing back against him. Pain and pa.s.sion sent electric stabs of pleasure spiraling to her woman's place, making it ache.

She tightened her a.s.s, squeezing his staff fiercely as he thrust into her again and again. She felt no pain now, only a mind-numbing, limb-melting storm of heat that racked her body and left her trembling and weak. Urgently, she rocked against him. Pan roared her name, grasping her waist tight as he drove himself deep inside her, his hot seed pulsing into the greedy channel. Ysa arched in ecstasy, arms trembling as the two of them swirled together amidst the tempest.

Slowly, ecstasy faded. Ysa collapsed against the tangled blankets, Pan atop her. "Ysa, Ysa," he murmured, moving aside her sweat-slicked curls to nibble the back of her neck.

His ravishing tool diminished within her. Ysa wiggled her hips, perversely excited by the sensation. Pan groaned. "Youare a witch," he whispered. "You're driving me mad."

Ysa giggled and clenched herself tight around him, wickedly delighted to feel his manhood twitch.

She was lying on her stomach, Pan half-sprawled on top of her. He snaked his hand between her belly and the floor, his fingers searching. Ysa raised her hips slightly, gasping when he found the tender, ripe nub buried in her nest of dark curls. Pressing his finger into it, he moved the throbbing pearl in slow circles.

Ysa arched, muscles spasming, the special place between her legs weeping anew. Pan kissed her neck. Closing her eyes, Ysa began to move her hips, thrusting into his touch the way he thrust into her body. She felt him smile against her neck, his breath quickening at her arousal.

His staff twitched again. As she moved her hips in quick, shallow thrusts, it expanded inside her, stretching her a.s.s deliciously. Ysa laughed, rising up onto her knees again.

Pan captured her sensitive nub between two fingers and pinched, milking it the way he milked her nipples. Ysa arched, bucking against him, tightening her a.s.s around his staff.

"Ysa," Pan groaned. He wrapped his powerful arm around her waist, holding her immobile while his c.o.c.k pierced her over and over.

Ysa's breath caught in her throat. She arched, quaking as the storm of pa.s.sion overtook her once more.

Pan's finger moved, slipping along the wet slit below her nub.

Ysa gasped. "Pan, no!"

She had forbidden him. Forbidden him to ever touch her there. She wanted Vitale to be the first to know that place.

When she had told her grandmother of her desires and Vitale's refusals, the gypsy had said that when pa.s.sion gripped her in its hot fingers, allowing Pan to use the tight pucker between her cheeks was the way to satisfy it. No child would be quickened and her virginity would remain intact for the man she intended as her future husband. Pan had agreed to this, and had never broken their pact.

"Pan. No!"

This time, he held her waist in a punishing grip despite her struggles, bruising her soft flesh as his finger slid for the first time into the weeping cleft.

Ysa gasped. He probed and pressed, stroking the hot, throbbing flesh inside her. Not just her nipples, but her b.r.e.a.s.t.s seemed to swell, tightening until she thought they would burst. "Oh!"

The thrust of Pan's staff between her cheeks slowed. Another finger probed at her womanhood.

"Ysa?"

For one long, agonizing moment, she thought of denying him. She sensed she could tell him no and this time, at least, he would stop. But her p.u.s.s.y clenched, and the feel of his strong, slender finger inside her made the pleasure rise again within her. Desire crashed over her like a wave and she moaned, parting her legs, wiggling her hips to entice him.

"Oh yes, Ysa," Pan gasped roughly as he worked this finger in alongside the other one, stretching her slowly, deliciously. "I have longed for this."

Betrayer! Ysa's mind whispered, but her body... oh, her body devoured his touch.

She arched and rocked back as his questing fingers caressed a secret fold that sent a burst of pleasure rippling through her belly. "Pan!" He pressed again, his fingers knowing, insistent. "Oh, yes, Pan," she sobbed. "Yes, yes." Ysa moaned, spreading her legs wide as he probed deeper, each stroke causing her p.u.s.s.y and a.s.s to clench tight around him.

"That's it, little witch." Pan bent close to her, nibbled on her neck. "My Ysa." He continued toying with that magical spot, making her gasp. "So hot," he whispered. "So sweet." He caught her earlobe between his teeth, nipping hard. "Mine."

He straightened. Pleasure blossomed between her legs as his hips moved again, stroking his c.o.c.k in and out of her a.s.s as his fingers plumbed her p.u.s.s.y. "Say it, Ysa," he growled.

She whimpered, not wanting to betray Vitale any further, but desperate to relieve her throbbing need.

"Oh, G.o.ddess!" she cried as he buried the entire length of his staff in her a.s.s. She tried to rock against him, but he held her fast.

"Say it, Ysa."

She trembled, shaking her head no even as she tried to move her hips.

He buried his fingers deep inside her, stroking his own manhood through her hot flesh. She shivered on the edge of release. "Please, Pan. Please."

His fingers glided over the magical spot that sent the most incredible sensations bursting through her abdomen, the touch feather light.