Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series) (3 page)

“I forbid it.”

“What?” She scanned down her row. All eyes were focused on Simmons. Was she hearing things? It had to be imagination combined with lack of sleep. Cassie focused on the professor and the way her ancient fingers wrapped around the top of the lectern. Nothing like John Medina’s hands. She’d noticed how he held his cup with nice capable hands, and she’d liked the look of them.

“I have decreed, and it is so.”

The slight accent, his rich tone of voice that held a knife’s edge, and underneath an imperious command. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. That had signaled warning since childhood, or at least, inconvenience. The last time she’d felt that tingle, she’d hiked up Mount Parnassus.

Cassie froze in her seat. Once might be imagination, but hearing voices twice could be signs of mental instability. She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you say something?” she asked the two girls seated behind her. One continued to type on her laptop while the other stared down her nose and shook her head. Still Cassie’s neck prickled.
What was it?
The rumble reminded her of those wicked dreams of Apollo. A rush of heat flooded her face.

“Cassandra,” the voice whispered into her right ear.

“Oh no,” she murmured. The seat beside her was empty, or should be. She stared forward, afraid of what she’d see if she turned her head.

“Look on me.”

Heart pinging, she gathered courage and turned to face the voice and her fear. Apollo, shimmering with light from his position beside her, golden mane flowing over his brawny, nude shoulders as if blown by a breeze, his eyes blue as the Adriatic, and that smile. No man should wield such a weapon. It turned her legs to mush.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. He had to be a dream or a figment of her imagination. She refused to acknowledge the Greek god. Had she fallen asleep in class? Cassie trained her attention on Simmons
. I am not crazy. It’s sleep deprivation, that’s all.

“Beloved.” Apollo, clad in a loincloth, his rippling muscles open to inspection, leaned closer.

This delusion was insistent, but Cassie could be just as stubborn She stared forward
. Ignore it and it will go
away.
It worked with stray dogs. She must have fallen asleep. That had to be the explanation.
Wake up, Cassie
.

Apollo caressed her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “Must I convince you of my existence each time?”

Her heart thumped and her mouth went dry.
It’s not real. It’s not real
. He pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot below her ear. She shivered. “Oh God,” she murmured. Heat trickled from her neck down to her belly.

“Yes?” His sweet, moist breath warmed her cheek.

Then it hit her. This was different than the dreams. She never smelled anything during those torrid visits as she slept, but now the scent of honey surrounded her. And their interludes always took place lounging on plush cushions under the spreading branches of an olive tree in ancient Greece.

Never in present time.

Her eyes widened. This was no nocturnal fantasy. And if she wasn’t losing her mind, then an actual half-naked man nibbled her neck and was doing an excellent job at seduction. She jerked back. “But you’re a myth,” she argued.

People around her gave her odd looks, and the guy on the other side of her got up and moved. She wanted to sink into the floor. She should just leave and get some fresh air.

“Myth has a basis in fact. Touch and prove me.”

An interesting experiment. Cassie held her breath, reached tentative fingers and pushed at his tan chest, satin skin over sculpted muscle and warm flesh. She retracted her trembling hand.

“I am real.” His voice had grown smoky. “But to convince you, I’ll share this prophecy: There will be an attack on the American embassy in Greece. Hostages will be taken.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered “We have excellent relations with Greece.” 

Apollo’s gaze darkened to amethyst. “This is a prophecy and warning. Tell your father.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said overly loud. All eyes turned and stared at her, puzzled looks on their faces.

“Um, sorry,” she said, and got up to leave. Her face burning. “I’ve got to go.” Cassie snatched her laptop and hurried from the room. Heart pounding, tears burning behind her eyes, she fled the room and into the hall with Apollo at her side.

“I’m crazy. Nuts. Insane. Damn it,” she said into the air and leaned her back against the wall. “There’s no other explanation. I’ve lost it, and now I won’t have to worry about the rest of my life because I’ll be committed.”

“Cassandra, you’re quite sane.” 

She scowled at him. “Yeah, and I should believe a guy running around in a diaper. I feel so much better.”

“I was wrestling with Hermes.”

“Figures.” She rolled her eyes. “Put some clothes on or, better yet, leave.”

“Not until you promise to tell your father of the prophecy.”

“Not a chance. Do you really think my dad would believe this tripe?” Her hands tightened around her laptop. “Stay the hell away from me and my father.” She moved to leave, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“It’s the truth,” he growled. “You’re my Cassandra and this is your destiny. Share the prophecy. Thwart Hydra.”

Cassie was about to stomp on Apollo’s sandaled foot when John Medina ran into her, bumping her into the wall.

“Are you all right?” He held onto her with a firm, but gentle grip. “You look upset.”

She was far from all right. At least Apollo had disappeared. “I’m fine. Never better.”

“Are you sure?” Medina cocked his head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh, no. Nothing anyone can do.”

“Well, if you change your mind. Here’s my number.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and slipped it into her hand. “I’ve got to get to class.” He gave a lopsided smile before striding down the hall.

“What a great guy,” she said, and entered his number into her phone.

“I forbid it,” the voice grumbled.

Cassie froze. Her mouth tightened in determination. And she finished entering Medina’s number.

CHAPTER FOUR

“What the hell?” Cassie muttered as she lowered herself onto a bench outside. The snug pencil skirt tightened around her hips, adding to her discomfort. She sucked in a breath of warm September air scented with fresh-cut lawn. There were only two options—either she was mentally ill, or she was actually being visited by Apollo. Illness was easier to accept.

But a god? How could she resolve the problem? The known factors in this equation were minimal: dreams, hallucinations and hearing voices. Cassie stood, her black pumps firmly anchored on the grass. Logic was the way to solve this. She needed a psychiatrist
.
Just explain everything and…

The morning headlines appeared in her mind: “Secretary of State’s daughter held in mental hospital for observation. Delusional.”

“Ugh.” She plopped down on the bench, the hard seat adding to her firm resolve. Some would speculate whether insanity ran in the family. She refused to taint her father’s political career. It wouldn’t do her mother’s practice any good either. The situation required more thought.

Seeking medical help might be premature. She should try to solve this herself first. Her jaw cracked from a wide yawn. Since Greece she hadn’t enjoyed a full nights rest. Maybe all she needed was a good night’s sleep and Apollo would evaporate along with her fatigue. Sleep. That was the logical course. Cassie got to her feet. She’d take a sleep aid and that would be the end of Apollo. 

* * *

That night Cassie took two pills and, climbed into bed, and the drag of sleep pulled her under. She stood outside. The night sky blazed with stars like millions of lit candles afloat on a black sea. Cassie breathed in. The scent of lavender mingled with the woodsy smell of cypress and pine igniting her memory. She was dreaming, damn it.

“Beloved.”

She recognized the voice and her pulse raced in anticipation. Cassie turned.

Apollo beckoned to her. His thick golden hair cast pale in the moonlight and his crimson robe tied at the waist hung wide and left his chest bare. The lunar glow accentuated every shadow, tempting her gaze to stare and making his masculine features distinct and striking. He looked more like a statue than a mere man until he moved. “Join me upon the couch.” Apollo reached out his hand, large, with tapered fingers fit for plucking the strings of his lyre or playing a woman’s heart.

She’d visited this secluded spot of forest before in her dreams. They’d sat on cushions and kissed or walked along a path and talked. She couldn’t recall much of their conversations, but felt intimacy between them.

He lounged upon a cushion, his smile as tempting as his touch. He may call this a couch, but it was a bed, covered in pillows and silk. This was a dream. Why not enjoy the passion real life had denied her?

Cassie perched on the end of the bed, her hands moist and her mouth dry. She wore a filmy ivory robe that left her arms naked and plunged to her navel. Thin ribbons tied at her shoulders. The fabric barely covered her breasts and gave an illusion of being dressed, but not. She’d never have the guts to wear this outside of a dream.

Apollo sat up and ran his fingertips along her arm raising gooseflesh and longing. How far could she take this fantasy having never experienced everything a man had to offer? She was willing to find out.

“Lie back and close your eyes,” he whispered and pressed a wet kiss on the side of her neck.

She shivered. Just that slight touch from his mouth sent warmth through her veins. The bed cradled her. The wisp of silk hid little, her nipples visible, and she moved to cover her breasts with her arms, but he stopped her.

He held her wrists. “Beloved, no harm will come to you, only pleasure. Trust me.”

Cassie stared into his blue eyes, sparking with golden light. Waves of desire flooded her. She willed her arms to her sides and closed her eyes. A tickle caressed her skin along her hairline, then the side of her face and over her jaw soft as butterfly wings. “What’s that?” she said and stole a peak at him through slit eyes.

He raised a brow. “Close.”

She pinched her lids shut.

“A feather,” he said. The tip slid down the side of her neck and over he collarbone, leaving a tingle. The sensation stopped. She felt bereft of the feather and wanted to open her eyes and see what he was up to, but forced herself to trust him.

The wisp of feather played over her lips and her tongue swiped to ease the tickle. The feather danced at the edge of fabric covering her breasts. She trembled but remained quiet. She’d never felt so much with so little. Her senses heightened to where his moist breath on her skin was a potent caress. Her pulse picked up and her nipples hardened. He tickled down to her navel. Cool air blew over her thigh and the gossamer robe hiked up and pooled around her hips. A slow tickle slid around her knee and then took a path up the inside of her thigh. She sucked in a breath. Desire heated her core. She bit her bottom lip and moaned.

Apollo took her mouth with his, slow seductive swipes with his tongue teasing her and she arched her neck wanting more. The weight of his warm hand covered her breast.

She woke with her core pulsing with need. “Damn it all to hell,” she muttered.

By morning Cassie was exhausted and satisfied. Most of the night spent in the arms of a myth that stoked her fire and teased until she thought she’d scream. This dream of Apollo could become an addiction. If she could just find a man like that, able to make love to her all night, she’d gladly give up her virginity to him. She yawned. And sleep.

Cassie stretched. Her muscles were sore. It was the last dream that she could do without, the damn ugly attack on Athens. A shiver ran over her. Stupid sleeping pills didn’t help; instead they’d made everything vivid. Not a bad thing when fantasizing of Apollo‘s kisses, but hell when she’d dreamed of a gun in her face. Her heart pounded. What if this was a prophecy? She should talk to her dad and warn him. She shook her head to rid the thought. Enough of that, she had to get to class. Time to focus on logic and the real world.

She dressed in a navy suit and ran downstairs to breakfast. She’d decided to make the clothes an experiment. Maybe her new attire had something to do with Medina’s taking notice of her. She did stick out on campus. Most students dressed in jeans. Whatever the reason for his attention, she wasn’t going to mess with what seemed to work. The answer to her problem didn’t lie in dreams, but in a tangible man like John Medina.

Her dad sat at the table doodling, a thoughtful habit she’d watched since childhood. “Hi, Dad.”

He put down the pen and smiled at her. “Morning, princess. How is school?”

“Fine.” Cassie perched on the edge of the chair next to him.

“That’s new.” He nodded to her navy blazer.

Cassie ran her fingers over the cashmere lapel. “Mom suggested that I try this look.”

“Your mother’s idea. I see.” He ran a careful gaze over her. “Dress for success.”

Those are the words her mom had drilled into her as they’d shopped. “Has Mom left?”

“Yes. Something about giving a lecture this morning.” He’d taken up his pen and scribbled on a notepad.

Cassie’s gaze dropped to the suitcase on the floor beside his chair. “Where are you off to?”

He continued writing. “Greece.”

The short hairs at the back of Cassie’s neck stood on end, a definite signal of a bad choice. That bit if intuition had warned her many times, but perhaps this time it was wrong. It was only a nightmare, not real. Maybe.

Looking around her, everything was efficient and based in fact, especially her dad. The sleek furnishings and her father’s no-nonsense attitude screamed order, but not Cassie. Her hair had already escaped her clip. “But Dad, Greece?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He covered her hand with his and patted with gentle reassurance.

“I, um. Is it the right time to go to Greece?” She pulled up the corners of her mouth, trying for confident. What was she doing? She’d had a weird dream, that’s all.