For The Love Of A God (15 page)

He'd kept telling her she was beautiful. And delicious. And she'd believed him.

She swallowed, once again consumed by Eric's heat, even without him there. She turned to the cabbie. “Do you mind if I crack a window open?"

"Sure thing, miss."

The night air blew against her face as some of the fog seemed to drift into the cab. The warm breeze caressed her, enveloped her. Without knowing why, she smiled. Despite the fog, it was a beautiful night. Warm and suddenly sultry, like him.

She closed her eyes as she soaked up the breeze. Eric had called her his beloved. Why would he say something like that if he didn't at least care about her?

The way he'd made love to her was unlike anything she'd ever felt. His strength, his heat, his passion had raised her up. Taken her outside herself. It was the closest she'd ever come to feeling anything remotely religious in her life.

Total ecstasy.

"That'll be $14.50, miss."

Maia's head popped up as she was startled out of her little daydream. She scrambled for her money, tossing a twenty into the man's hands, and darted out of the cab.

"Hey, thanks,” the man said. He poked his head out of the window to smile at her. “You okay, miss? You look a little sick."

But Maia didn't hear him. She'd already turned and was headed into her building. Eager to escape the night, the strangely seductive fog, and anything that reminded her of Eric.

"I knew I'd see you again soon,” Jim said to his daughter, smiling.

Maia made a face at him. “Of course, Dad. Did you think I wouldn't come back?"

"I thought you might be a little afraid to come back."

It was true. She'd been terrified his recovery was some sort of crazy hoax or a temporary burst of energy. She sat at the edge of his bed and asked the question she was afraid to ask. “How are you?"

He wiggled under the sheets. “Still moving. Still talking. So, I'm bloody marvelous."

"I still can't believe... God, it must be a miracle."

"Yup. A gift from your friend ... Eric."

Eric. Maia picked at the tiny balls of fluff on the hospital sheets and tried to avoid the pointed look in Jim's eyes. It had been a week since she'd seen Eric. If he had been at the museum she hadn't seen him, and Sarah had said something about out-of-town meetings.

Maia had never felt lonelier in her life. Dino and Sheila tried to take her out at night, but she refused. She wouldn't answer their questions about what happened after the gala, and after a couple of days, they stopped asking.

And yet, oddly enough, she felt the whole time as if he were somehow near. She'd spent the better part of the week looking over her shoulder, feeling his eyes on her.

She couldn't forget him. The way he held her, the way their bodies seemed so perfect for each other. It was killing her not to beg Sarah for a contact number.

But she couldn't. He'd told her he was a god. Who did that? And did he really believe it, or was he just taunting her? Either way, it didn't inspire a lot of confidence.

"Could we not talk about Eric, Dad?"

"I think maybe we need to, sweet pea.” Jim took a breath, deciding how to tackle the subject which stymied him. “He did this, Maia. He fixed me. And it doesn't matter how long those docs want to keep me in here for observation, no matter how much they expect me to disappear into my former diseased self, I know I'm cured."

She stared at her father, the man she'd trusted implicitly her whole life. The man who'd never failed her. He didn't look particularly insane. “I really hope so, Daddy. But surely you have to understand Eric had nothing to do with—"

"He was here, you know,” he cut her off. “Before the day you brought him."

"Okay. Maybe he was visiting someone he knows. I don't see what it has to do with anything."

He smiled at her, not frustrated at all, just full of warmth and acceptance. “Eric was in my room, Maia. He came to see me. And before you tell me I'm imagining things, let me remind you my mind was always sharp, even when I was sick."

Her mind railed. Why would Eric visit her father?

It hit her just then that she'd never given Eric directions when they drove to visit her father. He'd simply known where to go.

How?

Jim stared off into space as he recounted the moment. “He never said a word while he was here. But he walked over and laid his hands on my face and my body. And I swear to you I felt a deep heat course through me, like I was being passed under a huge heat lamp. And the room got really bright then. It took me a second, but I realized the light was coming from him, from ... Eric. And his light surrounded us, and I began to get the feeling back in my arms and legs. Maia, it was incredible!"

He grasped her hand tightly, and she could almost feel the same heat in him. “Dad, I don't know..."

He gripped her hands even more forcefully. “You do realize who he is?
What
he is?"

Maia couldn't meet his eyes. To hear her intelligent, practical, scientific giant of a father talking this way was almost too much. He was surely either sick in the head, or she was.

And yet the feelings Eric produced in her were too magical, too incredible. He looked like Eryx. He knew all about Greece and its myths. He'd caught her outside the museum when she fell and had appeared out of nowhere to do so. He seemed to understand her every dream and shared her passion. He talked like he was ageless. He'd laid hands on her sick father, seemingly to restore his health.

And, God help her for daring to remember, he'd certainly made love like the god of love. Even with her limited sexual experience, she just knew another man could never make her feel so good. So divine. In a short space of time, he had completely captured her heart.

"What is he then, Dad? You tell me."

Jim looked at her as if it all made perfect sense. “He's Eryx, Greek god of love."

She stood and readied herself to leave.

"Maia, I swear I'm not on any meds right now.” He pulled her back down to the bed to sit with him. “Look, you know the stories as well as I do; you've read all the ancient accounts. After the death of the priestess Chloe, there were no more tales told of Eryx. As far as mythology is concerned, he died along with her. Zeus, Poseidon, all the other guys took a new wife every week. Eryx simply went away. Is it so implausible he took human form and lived among mortals? Can we just discount it?"

"Yes, Dad, it's a myth! It's a lie made up by some old guy with a long white beard!"

"And would you tell a modern Christian, a Muslim, that their gods don't exist any longer? That their religions are lies? How do we know, Maia? Maybe he is Eryx."

"He called me his beloved, Dad. What am I supposed to do?” she demanded. “What does it make me? His new priestess? Am I supposed to walk off into the sunset with him, get a mortgage for a ruined temple in Athens, and set up house? This is crazy."

Jim burst out laughing. “It is crazy, but it's wonderful crazy. How many people can say they've touched a god?"

"Daddy, he's not a god. He's a very beautiful man who needs some help. He must be sick.” The tragedy of it was tearing her heart out. She longed for him, longed to gaze into his eyes, but this story was too much to bear. She curled up against her dad and fought the agony which had been tearing through her for a week.

"Do you love him, sweetie?"

"I barely know him."

"I ask again, do you love him? Maia, within minutes of seeing your mother the first time, I knew I was hopelessly in love with her."

"How nice for you,” she shot back angrily. “But your marriage didn't end very well, did it? It's nice to know you want the same misery for me."

She stood and headed for the door. She didn't want to talk to her dad anymore. Although she loved that he was healthy, she wanted her old dad back. The practical Jim Douglas who told her not to talk to strangers. The man who valued science above religion, who didn't believe anything unless he could touch it and verify it.

Of course, Eric had touched him, and his reality had changed.

He was still sitting there, the picture of health, grinning like an idiot as she reached for the door handle. “Have faith, Maia."

She turned on her heel and left.

Although it was now way past closing time, and the museum would be virtually abandoned except for the night cleaners, Maia headed there. Not to work, but to think. It had always been her favorite spot to quietly contemplate her troubles and seek resolution.

Of course, in times of uncertainty, she'd always been able to say, “What would Dad do?” She couldn't rely on his method of reasoning anymore. Her father was obviously headed for the cuckoo house, just like Eric Lord was.

It was just her now. She had to be the practical one, the methodical one.

Barely aware of the downtown traffic, she crossed the intersection of King and Yonge Streets, and meandered toward the employee entrance of the Toronto Museum. Swiping her security card, she let herself in.

As she passed like a ghost through the darkened galleries, she noticed Wally from the cleaning crew. “Hey, Wally."

"Miss Douglas, what is it with you, always working late? Girl, you need a life."

Her lips curled in a little half grin. “I won't argue with you there. Listen, I'm going to be up in Greece for a bit."

"Checking on Poseidon's privates?"

"Yeah, sure,” she said, managing a smile.

Before she reached the gallery, she passed Sheila on her way out. “Maia,” she exclaimed. “Eric was here today! He was asking for you. Man, did he look fine.” Sheila's bright blue eyes widened, as if the size of her eyes directly correlated to the depth of Eric's fineness.

Maia breathed a sigh of relief at missing him, but a huge part of her wished she'd seen him. What did it matter anyway? He probably would have just given her some ridiculous story about how he was Noah now, and wanted her to join him on the ark. “Right. Well, have a good night.” She wandered off, leaving Sheila with a questioning expression on her face.

Sheila trailed her for a moment, concern marring her friendly features. “Sweetie, do you want to talk about it? About Eric? You haven't been yourself since the gala. I know you went home with him that night. What happened?” Sheila held up a limp little finger and dangled it. “Was it disappointing?"

Maia wanted to laugh. Hell no, it hadn't been disappointing. It had been the best moment of her life until he'd told her he was a mythical being. She couldn't share that with her friends, no matter how close they were. “No. It was just ... a little intense."

Sheila's eyes rolled, as if she had it all figured out. “Oh, he's a clinger, is he? Well, you know what they say about fish in the sea, sweetie. Cut him loose, if you're not happy.” She gave Maia a little hug and made her exit.

Maia watched for a moment, relieved at not having to explain further, then turned toward the gallery. She paused outside the door and thought of the conversation with her father. He'd asked if she loved Eric. Was it even possible she could? It defied all reasoning.

But something in him had spoken to something in her. He'd felt so familiar, had awakened feelings which had seemed to lie dormant her whole life. As if everything that had ever happened was meant to lead her to him. In his beautiful face, she had seen the past and a heart-stopping present.

But did she see the future? What possible future could there be with him? Even if she suspended her every disbelief and allowed that he could be a god—and that was a huge if—how could it ever work? This wasn't just a case of dating a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Eric Lord was on another train altogether.

In her wildest, craziest moment of heart-thumping desire, even if she allowed herself to entertain the thought of running off with him, she didn't even know where she'd end up.

She entered and took a seat on a threadbare bench in front of the newly-reinstated statue of Eryx. He looked the same as ever. The strong body, the knowing grin. Only now, more than ever, he looked like Eric.

There was a pain in her chest. An ever-present dull ache, and all because of him.

A noise sounded behind her. She turned away from the sculpture, expecting the cleaning crew. “Am I in your way, Wally?"

No one was there.

At the same time, another noise reverberated through the gallery. The sound of heavy stone grating on stone. Alarmed, Maia turned toward the Eryx statue.

Only to see it falling. On top of her.

She froze, wide-eyed. Suddenly, two strong hands yanked her body off the bench. Within a split second, the marble artwork fell and crashed against the spot where she'd been sitting. Sickened and horrified, Maia watched as her beloved sculpture broke into several large pieces.

Marble limbs were strewn across the floor. And the decapitated head of Eryx rolled toward her feet, eyes cold and unseeing as they turned to her. In her shock, Maia could only stare.

The statue had almost killed her.

"Maia."

The deep, pained voice pierced through her consciousness, and she remembered the hands which pulled her to safety. As much as she was afraid to turn around, she did, gasping.

It was amazing Eric's presence could still rattle her so, could make her burn with longing. She had no words, didn't know what to say. It took all her strength just to return his heated gaze, the gaze now raking over her body with desire, over her face with concern. She felt her hands begin to shake and shoved them into the pockets of her jacket.

He took a step toward her. “You could have died."

"How did you...? You weren't even in the gallery."

He just looked at her sadly, as if trying to tell her she already knew the answer. “I've been around."

She backed up, fighting the impulse to jump into his arms. Her voice came out halting, a stammer reminding her of the raw ache inside her. “I have to go. I have to tell someone."

In one large stride, he was at her side, pulling her close to him. She didn't even fight him. He felt too good. Instead, she dug her face into his shirt and inhaled his scent, listening to the sound of his pounding heart.

"I've tried to stay away. God knows I tried to stay away. I even told myself I could protect you without being with you. But I can't. She has powers I don't possess. I can't see her coming. I can only react."