Chapter 11
2,725 Years Ago
Sounds of joy and pleasure ring out above my playing, but it does not distract me from my task. My fingers pluck out the jaunty tune to which the crowd of man and beast mingle and dances around a large fire to, warding off the chill of an abnormally cool fall. A grin stretches my face when I see Pan trot across my line of sight.
The half-man, half-animal god plays his flute as he moves, a line of participants following behind him. All of them are in some stage of undress, especially the nymphs; they normally have so little on to start with. In fact, two nymphs scamper by me, chasing after Pan with giggles and their bodies bared without shame, their hurried steps causing their breasts to jiggle and bounce.
Pan and I strike the last note of the song at the same moment, like we planned to do just that, even though I have never played with him until this very day. The crowd erupts with a menagerie of cheers and animal-like sounds, some clapping or stomping their hooves in appreciation. Pan snatches up one of the unclothed nymphs I saw, causing her to squeal with delight, the sound quickly turning lustful as he gropes at her breast.
“Orpheus!” he calls. “Sing for us!”
Even if I wanted to deny the order—which I do not—I would not dare deny a god what they wish. With an accepting nod, I strum my lyre, my eyes searching the crowd for a source of inspiration; someone to act as my muse.
The softer song has the celebration turning more intimate. As I scan over the throng of revelers, I see coupling of all sorts—satyrs, somewhat like Pan, taking human women; nymphs pleasuring themselves and each other while a mix of beast and man watched; human men fellating other human men. Everywhere I look is a different combination of pleasure and lust.
I pick up the notes with my voice, allowing a hum to vibrate through my chest as I wait for words to come that I have never needed to write prior to singing. As I do, I catch a shift of movement to my left, a group of nymphs appearing from the shadows of the forest, drawing my attention.
My hum stutters as I meet curious green eyes set on a pretty face, which glows with innocence. In the dancing firelight, her tawny hair catches the light, shimmering red and bronze, and drapes over her shoulders with an abundance of curls. Greedily, I drink in her form, noting lush curves that are hidden from me by a garment of green that matches her eyes, the material wrapped in a way that highlights her narrow waist and leaves her legs on display.
My fingers have never stopped playing, but I have yet to do as Pan asked and sing, instead gaping at the maiden who so deftly stole my attention.
Words flow from my brain to my mouth, spilling over my lips like a tipped pot of honey. I keep my eyes locked on her, this mystery woman, and I’m pleased to see her unable to take her eyes off me too, a dreamy look replacing her curiosity as I serenade her.
I stand without missing a single note on my lyre or with my voice and step forward. Playing without fail, I go to her, this woman calling me with her entrancing eyes. When I stop in front of her, her chin tips up so she can meet my gaze directly.
Because I am still singing—of her beauty and grace—she does not talk. She doesn’t need to. I can see her every thought written on her face. Longing and lust color her expression with pink. And yet, there is still a hint of mischief in her gaze that makes me want to dig deeper and discover the girl behind this composed mask.
When my song finishes, I reach out with my callused hand—my dominant one that suffers the most abuse from the lyre—and touch my fingertips to her face, ignoring the shouts of delight in response to my song.
“Your name,” I hum. “Please, love, tell me your name.”
She leans into my touch, but her eyes lower abashedly. “Eurydice.”
“Eurydice,” I breathe, and at the sound of her own name, her eyes dart back to mine. In that moment, it all falls away, the other revelers and even Pan, who has livened up the gathering with more music from his flute. My hand cradling her face and our eyes connected, there is nothing I want more than to be tied to this woman forever.
Our connection is broken as another voice—female—shouts her name, bumping into us as she grabs at Eurydice’s wrist. The sounds of the festivities come roaring back into my ears.
“Come. Dance with us,” a young nymph cries, fully naked. The girl yanks hard enough that Eurydice is jolted away a step, causing my hand to lose its grasp on her cheek.
“Not now,” Eurydice admonishes with a laugh. “Mayhap later, ?layda.”
With a shy smile, she turns back to me, her fingers playing with the curls draped along her breast, while ?layda darts off unperturbed.I step closer, expecting her to retreat at the bold move, and our bodies touch where hers is most voluptuous—breasts, hips, and thighs.
“How do you know her?” I ask, ignoring the way my hardened cock is undoubtedly pressing against her belly.
Eurydice glances away at the fire, her cheeks burning red, but she doesn’t move away. “My sister, ?layda. My other sisters are here too.”
I blink in surprise. “You are a nymph?”
She nods hesitantly. “Yes? Is that…all right?”
I chuckle. “Fine, Eurydice. I was only curious.” And I was. She was simply more clothed than every other nymph here.
“Oh? And may I be curious?” she asks, that hint of playfulness appearing again as she tilts her head further back to more fully gaze at me.
“Of course.”
“You are Orpheus? If so, I have heard of you many times.”
Jealously climbs into my chest to nest there, that this beauty has known of me while I was unaware of her. “I am Orpheus,” I confirm.
“Will you sing for me again?”
I grin. “I won’t only sing for you—I’ll have you singing for me, too.” I glance around at the debauchery around us. “But not here.”
Eurydice cocks her head at me. “Why not?”
“Because I do not want any of them to see what is to be mine.”
“Oh.”
The word comes out almost gasped, like I’ve surprised her. Without missing a beat, I take her by the hand and lead her away from the revelry. I see Pan as we move through the crowd, and his smug look is undeniable, even with this mouth occupied with the flute. I nod a thanks to the god and pull what he considers to be my prize along after me with one hand, my lyre in the other.
Once we’re away from it all, the noise a quiet rumble in the distance, I stop, releasing Eurydice from my hold. As I turn, she leaps at me and I catch her with one arm, fumbling with my lyre to lower it to the ground so I can secure my grip on her. Held higher than me, her eyes bore into mine, her fingers trace along my brow. I try to ignore the soft skin I can feel pressed against mine where she’s uncovered.
“Am I?” she asks, her voice serious.
“Are you what?”
“Yours.”
“Yes,” I answer without a single hesitation. “Eurydice, you are mine.”
A shiver runs through her, but she doesn’t break eye contact. “Are you going to take me?”
The question, despite its nature, sounds wholly innocent. “How old are you?”
I note the thread of apprehension in her voice. “Sixteen summers.”
I groan. “So young.”
“How old are you?” she asks, sounding accusatory.
“Twenty six summers,” I answer, my tone teasing.
“Oh.” She thinks about that for a moment, still studying me closely. “Have you fucked many nymphs?”
Choking on a laugh, I shake my head. “Who taught my lovely girl to speak with such coarse words?”
Smirking, she shrugs one shoulder. “I keep company with Pan.”
I delicately avoid her question. I’ve bedded many—nymphs and women, alike. “And you, Eurydice? Have you fucked many mortal men?”
She freezes, her fingers halting an exploration they had started through my hair and her eyes dart away. “No,” she whispers.
Something in the way her voice sounds makes me take pause. “Eurydice, look at me.” Reluctantly, she does so, bringing her eyes to mine. “Have you fucked anyone?”
Eurydice turns her head from side to side, slowly, her expression solemn.
I set her down and stare, taking a step back, and then another. Her face falls at my reaction, her hand tangling in her hair as she pulls at it nervously, her throat moving as she swallows hard.
A nymph who keeps the company of Pan and uses the word ‘fuck’, but has never been fucked. It’s a preposterous idea. Anyone would be skeptical. Nymphs act as the ones at the gathering do—free and wild and sexually uninhibited. To have one who has lived for sixteen summers and still be virginal?
It is unheard of.
“Why?” I croak out, my lovely voice tormented by her admission. “Why not?”
She pauses, dragging her eyes to mine from where they were fixed on her feet, her hand clutching at her hair so tightly that her knuckles glow white. “I have been waiting for you.”
If there was anything that could have cinched me in more fully to this beautiful creature, those words would have ended any chance she had to be finished with me after tonight. Cupid may not have been at Pan’s gathering tonight, but he certainly must have appeared long enough to strike me with one of his arrows.
I stride forward and seize her hand again, pulling her behind me without words. I look back to gauge her reaction as we go back to the fire. Disappointment lines her face, tears filling her eyes. The sight of it has me stopping so suddenly from my near jog, she crashes into my back. Whirling around, I cup her face with my hands and kiss away a single tear that has started to roll down her cheek.
“I am marrying you. Tonight.”
Eurydice’s mouth drops open, then snaps shut. “Orpheus?” she finally manages.
“I cannot ask you to be my wife. I cannot ask if you’ll accept me as your husband. I will not ask. I meant what I said, Eurydice. You are mine. You will always be mine. And we are going to ensure it stays that way.”
“I…But…” she stumbles, green eyes wide.
I cut off any argument she could make with a searing kiss, fusing my lips to hers. There is no pretense of her resisting. Eurydice clutches at me as my tongue presses into her mouth, stealing a taste of innocence for myself.
“You are not put off?” she breathes, eyes still closed, after I break the kiss. “I thought you did not want me any—”
I silence her with another kiss, and this time our limbs wrap around one another until Eurydice’s legs are about my waist, her arms around my neck, returning my kisses in earnest. I do not put her down as we pull our mouths away from each other for air, walking again back to the fire, pressing kisses to her lips that make every step harder. I want to lay her down here, on the forest floor, and claim her as no one has done—and ever will have the chance to again.
Pan sees me as I step back into the clearing, no longer playing. His horns glint as he angles his head curiously. Eurydice tucks her head into the crook of my neck as the noise assaults us, clinging to me.
I stride up to Pan and drop to one knee, making Eurydice squeal at the sudden drop though she’s secure in my arms. “We wish to be married. Tonight.”
Pan laughs, as if I’m joking, but grows quiet when he realizes I am serious. “Orpheus, ‘tis merely a nymph girl. One of many.”
Eurydice tenses in my arms and I hold her tighter. “She is mine,” I declare.
We have drawn a crowd, the others who are not in full-blown coitus pausing in their activities to watch the spectacle I am making of myself.
Pan studies me, then gestures for me to release Eurydice. I squeeze her tight and then relax my arms so that she can stand. She does not move, still holding onto me like I’m her lifeline until I stroke my fingers along her spine. Only then does she lift her head, searching my face. I try my best to reassure her with a look.
Whatever she sees has her unwrapping herself from me, her bare feet landing on the grass so she can stand and turn to face Pan. She trembles as he inspects her from afar, like he’s measuring her worth. A hush has fallen over the clearing, save for a few enthusiastic moans.
“Nymph,” he says finally. “Is it your wish to be married to Orpheus?”
Eurydice doesn’t hesitate, nodding. “I love him,” she murmurs. “My father promised him to me.”
I resist the urge to ask a million questions about that statement, watching Pan instead.
He grins. “Apollo and his prophecies.”
Eurydice nods. “He told me it was my fate to find a great man, full of music, to love. That our story would be told for eons. I knew who he meant the moment I heard Orpheus play.”
“I suppose we cannot deny the prophesying of Apollo, can we, Nymph?”
“No,” she answered, beaming. “We cannot.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Pan asks, grinning at me. “There is not a moment to waste. Prepare the little nymph here to be married to Orpheus this night.”
My heart leaps in my chest, a grin so wide on my face that it is near painful. Eurydice laughs, a sound full of joy, and spins around as she claps and hops right into my arms as I snatch her up. Her sisters gather around us, including ?layda, pulling at her to go prepare for our wedding. I do not want to let her go, but the quicker we are married, the quicker I can consummate our union.
“And, someone set off that way”—Pan points the direction I left and came back from—“and find Orpheus’ lyre before it is lost to the woods.”
With a start, I realize I do not have my lyre, though I have pledged to myself to always keep it with me. An hour ago, I could not fathom walking away from my lyre. But now?
Now, I cannot fathom a life without Eurydice—with or without my lyre.