Sunburn

Sunburn

Rosanna Leo

Liquid Silver Books (2013)

Rating: ****

There’s more going on at famed Helios Resort in Mexico than meets the eye and Patience O’Conner is going to figure out what, even if it kills her . . . Which is exactly what Death has planned.

Patience O’Conner is a travel blogger who lives for her work. Her dedication to her readers brings her to the famed Helios Resort in Mexico, a locale that stuns her with its beauty but at which she suffers from some very strange accidents.

Luckily, hunky resort bartender Apollo Delos is always there in the nick of time, a malcontent guardian angel. Apollo stuns Patience again and again with his life-saving abilities, to say nothing of his smoldering looks and apparent desire to keep her alive.

Before long, Patience wonders if there is more to the sexy bartender than mixed cocktails and insane first-aid skills. Something strange is happening at Helios and Apollo doesn’t want to talk about it.

Can Patience open herself up to this enigmatic man, even though she is terrified to be vulnerable again? And can Apollo recover from an eternity of hurt and learn to trust once more? They must both decide before Death comes calling.

Sunburn

Rosanna Leo

Published 2013

ISBN: 978-1-93176-124-6

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Rosanna Leo. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Blurb

Patience O’Conner is a travel blogger who lives for her work. Her dedication to her readers brings her to the famed Helios Resort in Mexico, a locale that stuns her with its beauty but at which she suffers from some very strange accidents.

Luckily, hunky resort bartender Apollo Delos is always there in the nick of time, a malcontent guardian angel. Apollo stuns Patience again and again with his life-saving abilities, to say nothing of his smoldering looks and apparent desire to keep her alive.

Before long, Patience wonders if there is more to the sexy bartender than mixed cocktails and insane first-aid skills. Something strange is happening at Helios and Apollo doesn’t want to talk about it.

Can Patience open herself up to this enigmatic man, even though she is terrified to be vulnerable again? And can Apollo recover from an eternity of hurt and learn to trust once more? They must both decide before Death comes calling.

Dedication

To Gail and Bert, for all their support.

Acknowledgements

A thank-you to my friend Annette, for discussing the finer points of German pleasantries with me. And a very big thank-you to the team at Liquid Silver Books for believing in me.

Prologue

Island of Delos, Ancient Greece

“Daphne.”

Apollo uttered the name of his betrothed in the same hushed, reverent tone used by supplicants when praying to him in his temple. His love was occupied stringing lilies into a garland for her black hair and did not hear. He watched her from behind a fig tree, kept his presence hidden for as long as he could, just so he could drink in her beauty.

She was seated on the grass by a rushing river, one that seemed to gurgle with pleasure at being so near to her. Her legs were curled gracefully underneath her nude body, her only vestment being her glorious, long hair. Apollo’s gaze traveled the length of the ebony mane as it trailed over her full breasts, down over her stomach, and into the sweet hollow between her crossed legs. He glimpsed two pink nipples peeking through the fine strands of hair, and his cock reacted.

Oh, how he wanted her!

“Today, fairest of nymphs, you will be mine,” he whispered. “Finally.”

He took a small step, his sandal crushing some dry undergrowth. He didn’t want to alarm Daphne. He’d come upon her quite by accident. Surely the Fates meant this as a fortuitous omen. They were meant to be together.

He could not see his future with Daphne, even though he was the god of prophecy, among other things. Something prevented him. If only his father Zeus had explained the gift of sight more fully, but he’d insisted it was Apollo’s task to unravel its secrets.

Not knowing his fate with Daphne was torture. Especially since she’d promised to be his wife.

She turned upon hearing his step and dropped her finished garland. “My lord Apollo!”

“Forgive my intrusion, dearest Daphne.” He breathed in, her beauty penetrating his heart as surely as one of his sister Artemis’ silver arrows could pierce the skin of a doe. He approached her, his fingers tingling in anticipation. He picked up the discarded garland and placed it on her fair head, and then cupped her cheek. “I cannot wait another day, my love. You agreed to marry me. Put me out of my misery. Make this the day.”

She stared at him, her green eyes growing wider, her lip trembling. “I can’t.”

Apollo felt sure one of his father Zeus’ lightning bolts had just pierced his chest. Daphne could not be refusing him! They loved each other, had pledged themselves to each other weeks ago. She’d sworn to love him forever.

Forever.

But why was there such a cold, indifferent cast to her eye?

True, they hadn’t kissed, had barely touched fingertips, on her insistence. And it had proven the most painful of exercises. Waiting to hold the woman he adored was excruciating. After all, he was a young god, and his appetites were all consuming. But she’d previously pledged herself to Artemis, had vowed to be chaste, and had begged him to respect her wishes. He’d promised not to touch her until they were wed.

It hadn’t been easy, especially in light of the rumors: vile talk about her infidelity. Nothing more than contemptible filth from jealous mouths, he was sure.

And yet, why else would she refuse him?

“Why, Daphne?” he dared to ask, reaching for her hands. “Why can’t you marry me?”

Creeping pain seized his being, making him lose hold of the emotions he normally kept reined in. Apollo’s eyes itched and burned, a sure sign they’d already taken on the golden tinge that only manifested when he was in battle or gripped by passion. He’d never shown himself to her this way, never revealed himself in his godly glory.

Perhaps now was the time. Perhaps it would sway her.

The familiar sizzle and crackle coursed through his being as he allowed the change to occur and his gleaming figure illuminated her shocked face. As waves of fire poured out, she flinched. Her recoil bruised his already fragile spirit.

“This is who I really am. Will you not have me?”

“No.” Her head was shaking, as if without control. She took a step back, pulling out of his grasp. “I’m afraid.”

He took a step toward her, anger flaring. “Of me? Have I given you cause to be fearful?”

“Never. You’ve been kind and gentle,” she admitted, still retreating. “But I’ve heard it said the love of a god can be a dreadful, terrible thing.”

He knew of what she spoke. As a race, his kind were jealous and as quick to anger as they were to love.

And there was the ritual. The only method by which a god could take a mortal as a spouse. In the ritual, one must drink of the sacred nectar, turning one’s blood to ichor, the ethereal liquid that comprised the blood of a god. It involved tremendous pain, sometimes resulting in death for the mortal.

But Daphne was only part mortal. Her father was the mighty river god Peneus. However, her mother Rhea, a mortal woman, was long dead. One who’d died when Peneus had tried to impart the gift of immortality onto her.

Daphne had cause to be afraid.

But he was the great Apollo! God of the sun, of music, and of healing. If anyone could help her transform, it was he.

“I’ll help you, Daphne. I’ll keep you safe. This I vow.”

“No,” she uttered. “I don’t want this. I never wanted this.”

And then, to his horror, she ran.

“Wait! Don't go,” he cried, following her. How could he not follow her? He adored her. She was his first love, and her pretty face ghosted through his every dream.

As fleetly as he could travel, indeed he could fly if he chose, Daphne was also swift and had irrational fear giving her wing. She was determined to escape.

He watched her pretty feet maneuver the landscape as if it weren't studded with pebbles. Witnessed her reach out her arms. Saw her look back at him in terror and move her lips as if praying.

Why should she fear him? A god in his full glory was an astounding thing to behold, but he'd eased the shock, bringing her flowers and sweet wines time and again. He'd paid homage to her as if she were already a goddess.

Apollo chased her, increasing his speed, resolved to make her see sense. “I would never hurt you,” he pledged. “I love you!”

She turned away from him and stopped at the river's edge. “Father, help me!”

“No!”

Apollo was stunned and horrified as Peneus rose from his dwelling in the river, a towering being whose very arms and legs and hair were formed by the swirling currents. Peneus glided over to his daughter and encircled her body with his gargantuan, watery arms. The god formed an impenetrable, surging barrier around the nymph.

“You will not have her, Phoebus Apollo,” came the god’s thundering voice. “I care not if you are the son of Zeus.”

With those words, Daphne changed. The dainty toes that had so captured his imagination lengthened, turning into gnarled tree roots. Her pale skin darkened, taking on a dark brown shade and the texture of dry tree bark. Her outstretched arms reached up to the sky as her fingers extended and sprouted shiny, green leaves.

Apollo’s heart broke, something he'd never experienced. It was the most dismal, most grievous emotion in his young life. Daphne’s decision was cleaving him in two, more damaging than having his head severed from his body. He gawked, horrified, as Peneus relaxed his watery embrace and slid back into the churning river.

He approached the new laurel tree and touched the cheek that was yet womanly flesh. “Why?”

“I don't love you,” she answered in a reedy, hollow voice. “I never did. How could I love such a terrifying thing?”

As he watched the continuation of Daphne's transformation, as her beautiful face turned into a slab of wood as cold as her heart, Apollo's emotions changed. His hurt disappeared. His love fizzled away. A new emotion took up residence in the remains of his heart.

Blind fury.

He'd been betrayed by a half-mortal woman. Him, a god! He could have made her timeless, ageless, like him. They could have lounged together on Olympus forever, loving and laughing and playing.

Instead, she'd given him his first potent dose of despair.

Quietly, he approached the tree, the plant that no longer held any resemblance to the soft woman. With a shaking hand, he snapped off a few of the leaves, wanting to take a little piece of Daphne. He ought to make her his symbol, should weave her foliage into his own garland and wear it in memory of the woman who could have been his wife.

But then, rage lashing its whip through him, he changed his mind.

He turned and stalked away down the riverbank. Daphne preferred death to him. He stared at the leaves in his hands and suddenly wanted no such memorial to the woman who'd destroyed his spirit. Women were clearly liars and unworthy of his attention. They were better to all follow his sister Artemis' example and take a vow of perpetual chastity.

His eyes burning like the fires of Hades, Apollo balled the leaves up in his hand, hurled them into the river as far as he could throw them, and stormed away.

He could not reveal his true, monstrous nature again. He could not be vulnerable again.

“Never,” he muttered. “Nevermore.”

Chapter 1

Mayan Riviera, Mexico

Present Day

“Well, what do you think of my little resort?” Apollo clutched his sister Artemis’ hand and awaited her response. She was discriminating and she was honest. If anyone were to give him valuable feedback, it would be her.

Artemis sighed and stared at the scene before her. Her dark eyes took in the pristine pool, the scores of Mexican waitresses racing between lounging customers, and the expertly pruned hibiscus shrubs. She turned to him, her face inscrutable, as always. She held her twin’s gaze for an excruciating moment, clearly loving his growing impatience, and then smiled. “I think it’s as beautiful as Olympus.”