Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series) (4 page)

He cocked his well-coiffed salt and pepper head. “This is work, not a vacation.”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t believe it’s a good idea.”

“Why? Is it because of the news about the Middle East? You know the media, they sensationalize everything.”

She shrugged against the stiff fabric of the suit. “Just a feeling.”

“A feeling?” His brows hiked up. “Since when do you rely on feelings? Facts are what matter, and the fact is I’m needed in Greece.” He stared into her face, his hazel eyes were soft with concern. “What’s this really about?”

How could she tell him? She valued her dad’s good opinion and longed for his respect. Putting herself out there with a ridiculous prophetic utterance could ruin it all. Cassie shook her head. Telling her dad that she had a hunch about Greece sounded like a cry for attention. She was pretty sure she didn’t believe any of the assault on the embassy. It was fantasy. Her father didn’t go in for anything but facts. He refused to trust a feeling. No way would she tell him that a god visited her. Yeah, that would go over big. She’d be scheduled for a long vacation and psychological testing. Not going there. “Is it safe?”

He laughed. “It’s Greece. Of course it’s safe. I have security and won’t be gone long.” He leaned closer and squeezed her hand. “Stop worrying. You’re beginning to sound like your mother.” 

Cassie hoped not. She loved her mom, but she did not want to act like her. “No, it’s not that.” Maybe the sleeping pills had left her muddled and there was nothing more to it.

“Glad to hear it. You’ve been on edge since you returned from your trip. Is it the break-up? That last young man wasn’t worth your time. You just need to get out and meet new people.  You’ll be fine.” He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Have to catch a flight. See you in a few days.”

She remained mute, watching him grab his suitcase and leave. Bad enough she’d almost made a fool of her self with that stupid “prophecy” about Greece, but her father saw her as a kid moping over that idiot Eric. Sure, getting dumped hurt—again. But it didn’t devastate her or keep her up at night. Or did it? Is that what Apollo was all about? How better to mend her wounded pride than to enjoy the attentions of a sexy god? Damn. She really did need to start dating. That would end it.

She straightened her shoulders and made a decision. She wouldn’t say anything about Apollo or Greece. Her dad knew the situation in the Middle East. Cassie stood, having lost her appetite. And no wonder—telling the secretary of state how to do his job, that would be crazy.

* * *

Apollo viewed Cassie’s inaction with supreme annoyance from his invisible vantage point at her side. As god of prophecy, he knew she’d doubt, but knowing didn’t make her lack of faith more palatable—it tasted bitter as gall.

If she didn’t believe in her gift, no one else would. That had been the problem at Troy. He hadn’t cursed her gift beyond stripping away her confidence. It had worked—too well, making all the difference. They both had suffered greatly for it.

He lowered his head, burdened with guilt as heavy as Earth straining Atlas’ broad shoulders. Three thousand years ago, Apollo had watched her torment until it swamped her mind and destroyed her.
Not this time. I swear by
Olympus, not this time
. He fisted his hands. Hating the helplessness of his position, a position he’d agreed to in order to bring Cassandra from the depths of Hades to life and give him another chance at love. This time, he’d win her heart.

She walked passed him, hips swaying under the straight wool, breasts pushing against fabric. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing her dressed thusly: restrained elegance that strived to hide her sexuality and had failed miserably. The skirt hugged her shapely backside, and each stride of her long legs drew his eye to those delicious curves. The blouse and jacket, both clung to her trim waist and flowed over her breasts like water. These garments didn’t conceal but did the opposite, making the soft swell of rosy skin above the neckline and each intake of breath a temptation to touch. The woman shouldn’t dress as an open invitation, not when other men would view her as he did; a goddess wrapped tight begging to be unfurled. And one man in particular, that cropped student. Had she no sense? What could that mortal offer? He’d end that soon enough.

Her scent, almond oil mixed with her own nectar still lingered, calling to him in ways that heated his blood and desire. Did she conspire to drive men mad? After seeing her administer the lotion to her delicate flesh, he couldn’t smell the concoction without recalling her silken skin, the perfection of her body and his need. He’d speak to her about her clothing and intoxicating aroma, and then her future.

How to change her fate and that of a nation? Zeus forbade his outright interference. Apollo could deliver visions, dreams and prophecy of impending doom, but not alter men’s hearts or their actions. His gift of divination told him Cassie waited. For what, a sign?

What did she require beyond the proof of her eyes and the touch of her hand on his warm chest? Visitation from a god once brought mortals to their knees, but not in this age. His jaw tightened. She doubted, not herself alone, but in the very existence of the gods of Mount Olympus, and the idea of a power mightier than mortal’s puny science. 

“Science.” He spit the word into the air like a gnat caught between his teeth. The gods created science. Willful, arrogant mortals, did they think themselves superior to the forces of the heavens and Zeus? Ah, the ignorance and vanity of men. They needed instruction. Apollo followed her outside unseen, but she should have sensed him.

Her lack proved Cassandra was no different: she believed only in facts. Powerful gods didn’t exist in her world. It would be his task to convince her. A few demonstrations were in order. Not in wrath, as he’d often done, but with patience. He had to woo the girl. The wager he’d made with Hades required gaining her love, if he failed…. Apollo shuddered. He wouldn’t think of it. Some losses were too great for even a god to bear.

* * *

Cassie felt eyes on her, though she was alone in the car. It had to be her imagination on steroids thanks to her fuzzy brain
.
“Ugh.” She’d missed another parking place. What was her problem today? Her head felt packed with marshmallows and thoughts of the sexy half-naked god. She couldn’t avoid dreaming about him and couldn’t make him budge from her mind.

It had to be the sleeping pills. Sleep was nice but the price seemed high, maybe too high. Thoughts of Apollo distracted and warmed her, obliterating her focus. If she had to have an imaginary friend, why a Greek god dipped in testosterone? Maybe she’d missed her calling and should write romance novels for lonely women lacking a social life—
like me
. Her dad was right; she needed to get out more.

“Freakin’ fantastic.” Cassie slipped into an empty parking slot and hurried to class. She needed her ordered life back, a clear head, and wanted Apollo reduced to minus. A vision of the god nibbling her neck made her skin tingle. Enough lurid daydreaming, she was late for class.

She quickened her pace.

Cassie tiptoed in, taking a seat in the last row. The professor explained the lesson and she flipped open her laptop to take notes. One word flashed in bold red across the screen, Greece. Greece. Greece. She slammed it shut. “Holy crap.”

Heads turned, eyes glaring in reprimand for the interruption. Cassie sunk lower in her seat. Her stomach knotted. “Please, let it be gone,” she murmured. With trembling fingers, she inched her laptop open.

Did you say something?” asked the skinny guy next to her.

Heat filled her face. “Oh, just thinking out loud.”

She glared at the screen, daring it to misbehave. The expected lesson glared back.

A sigh of relief escaped her tense lips. Leaning back, she let her hair fall behind her, brushing along the back of the seat. What if he was more than a diversion from loneliness and a damaged ego? What if there really was a man like Apollo, not a god or figment, but someone she’d glimpsed? Warmth filled her core and she licked her lips.

But she trusted logic. That’s what made life work, not stolen kisses under an olive tree from another time. Ah, but what kisses, the kind that belonged to sultry nights and willing flesh, and creating longing she’d never know before. Cassie stared at her computer in an effort to push the desire from her mind and failed. Such a man was everything she’d wanted. What if he was the love she’d waited for all this time, and why no other relationship worked out?

No. Absolutely not. Cassie shook her head in firm denial. She could not, would not allow this invasion into her mind. She sounded ridiculous, crazy, in heat. If this was a weird reaction from those damn sleeping pills, she refused to take them again. Nope, not happening.  Besides, why wait for a dream to manifest when a flesh and blood hunky student might be available? Her parents might approve of Medina. He looked responsible: none of the long hair and unkempt attire of most students. He might even have a job. And he’d given her his number. That made sense.

Her nape prickled as if icy fingers stroked her skin. She reached up and rubbed away the chill. Good thing Apollo was the stuff of dreams. Only something monumental could force her to accept the existence of delicious Greek gods and prophecy. Monumental didn’t seem likely. Life was best lived in full view, with feet on the ground and a clear head. Cassie determined to embrace reality. And Medina was real and had soulful dark eyes. Besides, what were the chances of a real man like Apollo showing up or an attack at the embassy? Like her dad said: It’s Greece, of course it was safe.

CHAPTER FIVE

Cassie bolted upright in bed, skin covered with sweat and her heart slamming against her ribs. The damp yellow t-shirt clung to her. Nightmares of Troy’s destruction had haunted her on occasion since her teens, but never like this. The dream had morphed into present-day Athens. Sleeping pills didn’t stop them.

Pictures of the American embassy, gunmen spraying corridors with bullets, and the wounded left where they fell, all branded her mind. It didn’t matter that the dream had ended; she still saw their anguished faces staring back with glassy eyes when she closed her lids. She trembled and fisted her sheets. In rare night visions of Troy, she’d watched carnage from a safe distance like viewing a movie…but this.

She pulled her legs to her chest hugging them close. Not in this version. It drew her into the nightmare. Shots echoed through the building, panicked screams ringing in her ears. She’d cowered behind an office door—listening. Down the hall, people sobbed and guns fired, followed by deafening silence. The coppery smell of blood filled her nose. A barrage of hard-healed shoes pounded outside her hiding place. Gooseflesh covered her arms. Her breath stilled. In the dream, she focused on the door, too terrified to make a sound, legs trembling as adrenaline pumped into her with nowhere to run. The knob turned and…

Cassie buried her face against her quivering knees.
It’s a dream. Just a terrible dream.

“It’s a prophecy.”

She screamed.

Her head sprung up in the direction of the intruder, heart racing, pulse pounding in her ears. “Damn you,” she grumbled, and scowled at Apollo. “I thought I was awake. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to help. I see you doubt me and the warning.” The man dressed in a white tunic, a bronze breastplate covering his broad chest. He carried a bow with a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. As in all her dreams of the god, he looked the part.

“If you want to help, leave me alone.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh yes I do.” She nabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest. “Your kind of help I can do without. Besides, I’ve decided that you’re not real. You can’t be.”

“It matters not what you’ve decided to believe. I am real. Here I stand.”

“Like that’s proof? No one else has seen you.”

“You want me to appear to others?”

She shrugged. “They do say ‘seeing is believing’.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t? I thought you were a god.”

“Zeus forbids displaying ourselves to mortals without permission.”

“Of course he does.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “How convenient.” Apollo left his quiver of arrows and bow hanging in mid-air and sat beside her on the bed. She scooted over and nodded to the suspended implements. “Nice effect.”

He ignored the comment. “Cassandra.” His voice slid over her like warm chocolate. “I’ve warned you and now you’ve seen the violence destined for Athens. Only you have the power to stop it.”

Apollo was beautiful, and in her dreams his kisses curled her toes, but she’d had this conversation. “People don’t believe this stuff, not unless you’re a phone psychic with a name like Sybil.”

He cocked his golden head. “I never cared much for Sybil. She uttered from a rock rather than my sacred temple.”

“Ugh. Focus. I’m pretty sure that you’re not real, and I need to get up early for class. You can leave now. Trust me, no one will listen to this warning.”

Apollo rested his chin on the back of his hand, light-brown brows drawn low in concentration. His pose reminded her of the statue The Thinker, only Apollo was better looking. “Because you lack faith, and there’s time before the embassy falls, I’ll give you a small revelation as proof.”

“And then you’ll let me sleep?” She breathed out exasperated. “Fine.”

He rewarded her with a smile. “At nine in the morning, a man carrying a pink rose will seek you out.”

Cassie yawned. “It doesn’t count if you’re the guy.”

“His name is John.”

“Really?” She must have perked up too much based on Apollo’s warm blue gaze changing to glacial ice. Cassie lost the excited tone and tried to look disinterested. “What does he say?”

Apollo pressed his lips together. “It doesn’t matter. You tell him no.”

“That’s the proof? Your big revelation to convince me to stick my neck out and leave my dad thinking I have a screw loose is a guy with a flower?”