Enough! The goddess moved abruptly, and a freezing wind ruffled Erik’s hair, chilling the sweat on his chest. You cannot know more of your destiny without affecting the balance. It is a different choice We offer you tonight.
Shit, shit, shit. Despite himself, Erik’s hands shook. He laced his fingers together into one big fist, the knuckles white.
Listen well, Erik Thorensen. If it is truly your desire, you will never again compel another with your Voice. We will take it from you.
His heart leaped. Gods, yes! No more rules, no more boundaries, no need to censor every word he spoke, constantly alert lest he . . . slip.
Again.
Inexorably, the Lady continued. By your own actions, Erik, you besmirched the blessing of the Voice. You used it to steal a soul dear to Me.
Judge and jury.
The blessing and the curse cannot be separated. If We take the Voice, you will lose everything. No more of the music, my dear, the music that makes your soul soar.
Executioner.
He couldn’t make a sound, but a full-body shudder raised all the fine hairs on his skin. Because the music was all he was—Erik Thorensen, also called Erik the Golden—that, and the easy, unruffled charm he wore like armor.
When he concentrated, the Voice flowed out of his deep chest like a stream of purest, golden air. It made people think of silk or the best chocolat liqueur from Concordia or the glorious, sliding friction of sublime and endless sex. It was a miracle, that Voice. The rest of the time, he was still a damn fine singer, if a trifle run-of-the-mill.
“No.” All he could produce was a hoarse rasp. “No.”
Despite the way he’d corrupted the gods’ gift, music brought his soul as close to the warmth of human connection as any artifice could do. His magnificent baritone gave him passion that was real, more satisfying than any sex he’d ever had. It kept him sane, focused on the here and now. Without the Voice, there’d be nothing left that was Erik. He’d be a shell that walked and talked, a big golden body women would desire for its own sake. Nothing more.
Hell, there were dark nights of the soul when he suspected he’d already reached that state.
A huge forefinger stroked the length of his naked spine from nape to buttocks, excruciatingly lightly. Erik shivered.
You’re lonely, murmured the Lady. Aren’t you, little one? And yet women tumble in and out of your bed, smiling as they leave.
“Yes,” he said. “But it means nothing. They mean nothing.”
You don’t enjoy sex? asked the Horned Lord. How is this? You control the women, the bedsport. You get the release you need, and all of it on your own terms.
“True, my Lord, but I want . . .”
What? A growl like thunder. More?
Erik gritted his teeth. “I presumed.”
You wield your charm like a weapon. The threatening pressure of the Dark Lady’s disapproval rolled heavily down his spine, bringing with it a drifting scent of ice and ancient stone and warm woman. What need do you have of anything more?
Pressing his lips together, Erik shook his head.
Answer My Lady’s question, rumbled the Lord. Or would you prefer I peer into your miserable soul Myself ?
Fuck, he’d never survive it.
Erik cleared his throat, the heat rising in his cheeks. “There is no one who cares for me, who knows me. The real me.” Humiliation washed over him, a warm, greasy wave. He clamped his mouth shut.
Audiences adore you. You have friends, said the Lady. Grayson, for example.
“I suppose so.” Erik ran a hand through his hair. “Gray’s a good man, but we’re not close, not really.”
It helps if you don’t hold people at arm’s length.
Hell, She was teasing him.
“I have to,” he snapped. “In case I—” He broke off, sucking in a rasping breath. “It’s the price I pay for the Voice. For the music.”
She’d have to be your match, Erik. So she can fight you every delicious step of the way.
“What? Who?”
The woman whose love you crave, the lover whose trust you desire. The very thought of her makes you hard with longing, doesn’t it?
“Don’t be stu—” Erik bit his tongue in the nick of time. “She doesn’t exist. Anyway, she’d have to know. And once she did . . .” He dropped his head, breathing hard. Then he shrugged. “Ah well.”
The Lady’s tone softened, became almost regretful. A moment ago, you chose to keep the Voice, the power to compel any woman to your will. Why not