Goddess of Light (14 page)

“Pamela,” he whispered. That within her, which slept at his suggestion, roused.

“Oh!” she said, sitting up and looking around. “What happened? My ankle!” She leaned forward and then stopped short, frowning at her leg. “But it felt terrible, like it was broken. I could have sworn it was already swelling. Now it looks perfectly normal.” Testing, she flexed and then rolled her foot in a circular motion. “And it feels fine.”

“You just needed to rest it. You strained it, that is all.” He handed her a towel, and she dried her face absentmindedly.

“I feel kind of stupid. I mean, you actually carried me up here. In the rain.”

“I am a doctor. Healing is my job.”

She looked up at him. He was completely wet. His shirt clung to the muscular ridges of his chest as if it was liquid silk. His hair curled in damp tendrils around his forehead. And those eyes! She thought the lyrics of the Faith Hill song described them perfectly: impossible . . . unstoppable . . . unthinkable . . . unsinkable . . .

“Well, I guess it's a good thing that you were close by.” With an effort, she pulled her eyes from his and began towel drying her hair with considerably more enthusiasm than was necessary.

Apollo watched her. She looked bedraggled and sodden. Her hair was a limp mess. Her clothes were wet. She only had on one shoe—and that one was leaking bright dye colors onto the ivory comforter. His heart lurched. He had never been so attracted to a woman, mortal or goddess, in his life.

“I should leave,” he said abruptly.

Pamela peeked up through a fold in the towel. “Oh?” She looked at her soaked watch. (Thank God it was waterproof.) It was past 4:00 A.M.! “I didn't realize it was so late.” She reminded herself that he was a strange man and that, although the chances of him being a rapist or a serial killer were slim, especially in light of the fact that he'd “rescued” her, he was still a man alone with her in her hotel room way past midnight. The situation had the makings of a Lifetime Movie of the Week, and they never ended well.

“Yes, it is late.” He definitely didn't want to leave, which was why his conscience was telling him firmly he must go.

“I suppose your sister will be wondering what happened to you.”

Apollo paled. “You have no idea.”

His expression made Pamela smile. “Oh, but I do. My brother would be pacing back and forth while he waited up to yell at me for staying out so late and worrying him.”

His lips quirked. “She will definitely want to know what has taken me so long.”

Pamela cocked her head to the side in a gesture that had already become familiar and endearing to Apollo.

“And what will you tell her?” she asked.

“I will tell her that I was detained by an unexpected accident.” He walked to her and with one graceful movement knelt at the side of her bed. His hand touched her ankle gently. Then he stroked it, letting his fingers travel a short way up her calf. He felt more than saw the slow intake of her breath. “A lovely, unexpected accident.”

She could hardly breathe when he looked at her and touched her like that. She wanted to beg him not to leave, to ask him to stay the night with her . . . Pamela's stomach clenched. She shouldn't want him so much and so soon; he was a stranger. A handsome, sexy, wonderful, stranger . . .

Apollo watched the shifting emotions that were so clearly written on her face. That she desired him was obvious. He saw the soft, liquid wanting in her eyes. He could have her—he could take her in his arms and complete the seduction. That was what he was supposed to do. It was what Artemis expected and what he had planned. Pamela hadn't said that she wanted to be made love to when she had spoken aloud the desire of her heart and completed the invocation, but her need had been transparent in her words. He'd seen it, as had Artemis. So, in order to fulfill the invocation, he needed to make love to her.

And then what? A sudden thought blew through his mind like an unexpected winter storm. Perhaps the invocation had cast some kind of spell over her, and the desire he saw in her eyes was only a result of the powerful magic the nymphs had worked. If that were true, then once he made love to her, the spell would be broken. She would no longer desire him. She would no longer gaze at him with those intelligent, expressive eyes that turned the rich color of honey when he aroused her earthy passion. The thought left him feeling lost and sick. Abruptly he stood.

“I must go,” he said. “No,” he motioned for her to stay in bed when she moved to get up. “You should rest your ankle. Sleep with it elevated tonight. Tomorrow it will be as if the accident never happened.”

Pamela's stomach dropped as he turned to the door. He'd said he would explain her to his sister as an accident. Was he saying that this was it? That after this one night they wouldn't see each other again?

“And tomorrow will it be like the accident never happened to you, too?”

She only realized she'd spoken her thought aloud when her words stopped him. He turned, and his brilliant blue eyes seemed to glow. He lifted the hand that had so recently caressed her ankle and presented it to her, palm open.

“Tomorrow I will still feel your skin against mine. Tomorrow I will still taste the silk of your mouth. Tomorrow the breeze will still carry your scent to me. How could I possibly forget you?”

“Then I will see you again?” she asked breathlessly.

“I would not stay away from you, even if I wished it. And I do not wish it. I will be at our café again tomorrow evening at the same moment we met this night. Until then, my sweet Pamela, I will think of you.”

When he left the room, Pamela felt as if the sun had suddenly fallen from the sky. She looked at the clock and began counting the hours until she would see him again.

 

 

ARTEMIS waited in the obscure hallway that branched from an unadorned delivery entrance to Caesars Palace. She stood beside a door, which opened to an incongruous-looking closet that held a portal leading to another world. She crossed her arms and sighed. She had told Apollo that she would wait for him in Olympus, but as the night had waned she had become increasingly restless. It was late—almost dawn—and still she felt the chains that yoked her to the mortal woman. What could possibly be taking the God of Light so long to seduce her?

A tall man dressed in sodden clothes turned a corner and approached her. With hardly a thought she lifted her finger to force him to turn away and use a different exit.

The man surprised her by laughing.

“Your tricks do not work so well upon me, Sister,” Apollo said.

Artemis' eyes widened in recognition. “Apollo? By Zeus' beard! What has happened to you?”

Apollo shrugged and pulled his wet shirt away from his body. “An accident.”

“An accident! But what of the seduction?”

“It comes along well.”

“Well!” Artemis almost shrieked in frustration. “How could it be coming along well if I can still feel the bond of the invocation upon me?”

“These things take time, Artemis. Pamela is not a city to be breached, or a fortress to be attacked and sacked. She is a mortal woman who desires romance.”

“I understand that all too well. What I don't understand is why you have not yet bedded her.”

“Because it is not truly what she desires,” Apollo said.

Artemis' eyes narrowed at the odd, introspective tone of his voice. “Having the God of Light in her bed is not truly what she desires? I find that hard to believe, brother.”

Apollo sighed. “What would you say if I told you that bedding her tonight is not what I desire?”

She would say that that was easier for her to understand. She had thought that her brother had found the mortal attractive, but apparently that had changed. “Well,” she said slowly, “this really is Bacchus' fault. He's just going to have to be involved in fixing it. Perhaps he can use the most potent of his wines to drug her into a desirous state. He is a god; I supposed he has seduced mortal women before, no matter how repulsive it is to imagine him engaging in such an act.”

“No!”
The word exploded from him. “That toad will not touch her!”

Artemis' slender brows knit in confusion. “Apollo, be clear! One moment you say you do not desire the mortal, and the next you are ready to defend her against another god as if you were that fool Paris, and she your Helen.”

“I simply said I did not wish to bed her tonight, not that I didn't desire her. She injured herself tonight,” he blurted as his sister stared silently at him. “Of course I healed her. Without her knowledge,” he added quickly before Artemis could speak. “But to take her to bed after that would have been an ignoble act.”

Artemis' sharp eyes saw the veiled discomfort on her brother's face. He was not being entirely truthful—not with her and perhaps not even with himself. Either way, she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he would admit no more to her.

“Tomorrow?”

Apollo nodded tightly. “Tomorrow.”

“Good. Let us retire to Olympus. I find that I am weary of the mortal world.”

Apollo opened the closet door and motioned for her to precede him through the shimmering, shell-colored portal. He was returning to their world, but he had no intention of retiring to Olympus. He bade his sister a distracted good night and then transported himself to the one place he knew in which he could find aid.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT had been as much a surprise to Apollo as to the rest of the Olympians to discover that the goddess who had won Hades' supposedly cold heart wasn't really a goddess at all. That Demeter had instigated a swapping of her daughter Persephone's soul for the soul of Carolina Francesca Santoro, a mortal from the modern world. Demeter had wanted to tame her carefree daughter, and the trade had seemed an excellent opportunity to mature Persephone. It also presented the lovely side benefit of having the more mature mortal businesswoman bring a calming female presence to the Underworld. It had been a totally unexpected development for the Lord of the Underworld to fall hopelessly in love with the mortal masquerading as a goddess.

Although, Apollo thought, once he'd met Carolina, or Lina as Hades called her, it didn't take long for him to understand why the God of the Underworld had become so smitten with her. She was wise and filled with a kind of unique exuberance that shone like a beacon from within.

Apollo had always been drawn to Lina's laughter, and now he finally understood why. It carried the sound of her mortal soul within the voice of the body in which she temporarily inhabited—that of the Goddess Persephone. And within that mortal soul he heard the echo of Pamela's earthy joy.

“So this mortal woman has already driven you to Hell!”

“Carolina, do not torment him.” Hades smiled fondly at his soul mate.

“You're showing your sensitive side again, my love,” Lina said in the teasing tone that only she could use with the God of the Underworld.

Hades snorted. “It is not that I am sensitive, it is simply that I understand very well the havoc a modern mortal woman can wreak in a god's life.”

Lina pointedly ignored her husband's words and turned her attention back to Apollo. The golden god had discarded the wet clothing he had arrived in and was now wrapped comfortably in one of Hades' robes. She and Hades lounged in their private chamber, sipping ambrosia. Apollo had visited them frequently since it had become common knowledge that a mortal woman had become Queen of the Underworld, and the three of them had grown into good friends. The God of Light should be relaxed and at home with them. Instead he looked like a wound spring. He couldn't sit still. He paced restlessly in front of the wide picture window that looked out upon the beautiful gardens in the rear of the palace. But Apollo paid no attention to the lovely view.

“I don't know what you're so worried about. From what you've told us, Pamela seems to be very interested in you,” Lina said.

“That is exactly what I am not sure of! Is it me that interests her, or is it the damned power of the invocation spell?”

“That seems easy to determine,” Hades said. “Simply make love to her. If she casts you from her sight afterwards, it is the spell that attracted her. If not, it is you.”

Apollo frowned at him, not sure why he was so unwilling to test Pamela's affection. Wasn't it really just that simple? Why did the thought of it cause his stomach to roil?

“It's scary, isn't it?” Lina's soft voice interrupted the god's inner turmoil. “It's something we mortals know all too well—the fear of rejection. But in order to know true love, you must be willing to open yourself to the possibility of true hurt. I wish I had an easy answer for you, but I don't.”

“So it's always this hard.”

Lina smiled kindly at the golden god's pained expression. Sitting beside her, Hades slid his hand within hers, and for a moment they shared a secret look.

“It's only this hard when you really care,” she said.

Apollo's face paled. “I might fall in love with her?” He spoke the words as if he had just given name to a new plague.

Lina nodded, careful to keep a clamp on the laughter that threatened to bubble over. Poor Apollo. He was just so adorably miserable. “I'm afraid you might.”

“Cheer up!” Hades said. “Loving a mortal is not such a terrible thing.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear you say so,” Lina said sarcastically.

Hades just chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

“She doesn't know who I am!” Apollo blurted. “She thinks I'm a mortal man, a doctor and a musician. Perhaps it is not the spell. Perhaps she could fall in love with me, too. But won't that change when she finds out that I have been masquerading as someone I am not?”