The Girl Who Ran Like The Wind (Myths Retold)

by Normandie Alleman

  "Princess!"

  "Oh, sorry." Atalanta shook her head. "I didn't get enough sleep last night."

  Celia looked concerned. "Do you want some caffeine?"

  "No thanks. I'm good." Enough daydreaming. It was time for her to put on a show and mop the arena with poor Hip.

  Half an hour later she gave her calf one last stretch before strolling over to the starting blocks. Usually, she didn't make eye contact with her challengers. She was too focused on the upcoming race, but today those butterflies in her stomach were flitting around like crazy, and she couldn't help but sneak a glance over at Hip.

  He got into position in the spot next to her. She liked watching him move, enjoyed the way his muscles rippled under his skin, and she wished he would remove his shirt, but that wasn't likely to happen because it was meant to hold his number.

  Hmm. Maybe she could have that changed for the next race. Have the men all go shirtless and attach the number to their shorts instead.

  Suddenly, Hip turned his head and caught her watching him.

  Before she could avert her eyes, his mouth stretched into a glorious smile and he winked at her.

  She didn't smile back. Instead, she looked away, chastising herself for getting caught fawning over the competition.

  Inhaling, she trained her eyes on the race course ahead and focused her attention on the task ahead. Once she won the race, everything could go back to normal—the way she liked it.

  "Lady and gentleman, take your marks," Percy called out. This particular race was such an afterthought they had the butler announcing the start.

  It felt like forever waiting for the starter pistol to go off. A bead of sweat formed upon Atalanta's, brow and she wondered if it was from nerves.

  If Hip planned to distract her, it was working.

  Bang!

  Atalanta stumbled and got off to a bad start, while Hip flew ahead of her.

  Measuring her breathing, her feet hit hard against the dirt, and she accelerated until she blew past him.

  A warm sense of security bloomed in her chest, and soon she was running for the joy of it. All the thoughts she had the other night at dinner with her parents of letting the next race be close disappeared, and she sped down the track as if her life depended on a victory.

  Out of nowhere, a flying object zoomed past her head and onto the side of the track.

  Atalanta couldn't tell what it was, but for some inexplicable reason, she was drawn to it.

  Whatever it was, she had to have it.

  Her legs moved as if they had a mind of their own, and she veered off course following the hurled object.

  When she got to where it had landed, she stopped and picked it up.

  It was an apple made of gold.

  But once she had it in her hand she didn't want it anymore, so she dropped it and ran back onto the race course.

  Damn! Hip was now ahead of her.

  Though she had no idea why she'd run off course after a silly apple, there was no time to ponder her actions now. She had to pick up the pace.

  Kicking it into high gear, she launched herself past him once again.

  Seconds later another object vaulted into an adjacent field, and Atalanta was again compelled to take off after it.

  When she reached it and picked it up, she saw it was another golden apple.

  What in the world was happening to her, and what was it with these blasted apples?

  They were beautiful for sure, but in the middle of a race for her single status was not the time for her to be admiring random trinkets no matter how lovely they were.

  Tossing the apple to the ground, she rushed to catch up with Hip.

  This was one instance when she had no interest in a view of her competitor's delectable buttocks. She grunted as she called upon all her power to move her legs as swiftly as possible.

  Groaning with the effort, she pushed past him only to watch another shiny golden apple soar through the air. This one landed in a patch of bushes off to the other side of the track.

  Helpless to control her own body, Atalanta keened with frustration as she bounded off the path into the bushes to retrieve the third golden apple.

  Because it had fallen through a thick brush, it took her several precious seconds to locate it and pull it out.

  Once she had it in her hand, she let it go and ran as fast as she could to get back into the race.

  By the time she got back to a good speed, she was about two lengths behind Hip.

  And as if it were in slow motion, she saw something she'd never seen before.

  Someone else crossing the finish line ahead of her.

  So this is what it's like not to finish first, she thought as she passed the line marking the end of the race.

  The pit in the bottom of her stomach told her she never wanted to experience defeat again.

  What in the world had all that been with those blasted apples?

  She fumed.

  Someone had put a spell on her, or those apples, or both. And she didn't appreciate it one bit.

  But before she could throw a tantrum and insist that her competitor be disqualified, she realized that the small crowd was cheering like mad.

  She looked up to see the entire audience celebrating.

  Hip raised his arms over his head in triumph, and she couldn't help but appreciate how handsome he looked. Those sexy arms making such an obnoxious display were the same ones that had held her and loved her that afternoon on the grass.

  A pang of desire gripped her, and lust clouded her brain. She wanted to be angry with him. He had beaten her, and he had cheated by using some sort of magic. She couldn't let him get away with it.

  Like a child, she ran to her mother's side.

  "Mother, did you see what he did?" She crossed her arms, waiting for justice to be served.

  Her mother's eyes were as bright as the lights on a Christmas tree. "Yes. He's amazing! Aren't you lucky to be getting a husband as good looking as he is?"

  The queen's gaze rested on Hip, who was now surrounded by fawning fans, and Atalanta could have sworn her mother swooned.

  "But he cheated."

  "What?" Her mother was too busy batting her eyelashes in Hip's direction. She wasn't even listening.

  Atalanta rolled her eyes. "Those apples! Didn't you see him tossing those apples and making me run after them?"

  Her mother turned her attention back to Atalanta. "Yes, that was very peculiar behavior, Atalanta. Why did you keep doing that?"

  "He put a spell on me! I couldn't help it."

  The queen giggled then fanned herself with her hand. "I wouldn't mind him putting a spell on me."

  Atalanta groaned. She was getting nowhere with her mother. Perhaps her father would be more help. But before she could get to him, Hip appeared in front of her, a huge grin on his face.

  "Aren't you going to congratulate me?" he asked.

  "Congratulations," she managed through gritted teeth.

  "Thank you, Princess." By the self-satisfied look on his face, she wondered if he was already counting the money he'd have as her husband.

  "I can't say you won fair and square. That was a dirty thing to do out there with those apples. I don't know what's in them, but you used magic to beat me, and you know it!"

  "My dear, you gave me no choice. I only wanted to see you again, but you made it impossible. Did you know that for weeks I went back to the place where we met hoping to see you again?"

  "You did?"

  "Yes. I came here too but, of course, they wouldn't let me near you. I did my best to track you down. It wasn't that I wanted to marry you, or be king; it was that I wanted to find you so I could get to know you."

  Atalanta was taken aback. "So you don't want to be king?"

  "I don't care about that. I came here for you and only you."

  "So you don't want to marry me?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  "No, you don't have to worry about that," he said.

  "Oh r
eally? Why is that?"

  "Because I won't marry you."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Her stomach dropped, and she could feel her face burning.

  As her parents and a crowd of onlookers gaped, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him aside.

  "What do you mean you won't marry me?" she hissed.

  "I care for you too much."

  She stomped her foot. "You're not making any sense. You beat me in the race. You're supposed to marry me. You said you were here to compete for my hand. Now that you've won and defeated me on the track, you want to humiliate me further by refusing to marry me? What kind of demon are you?"

  Hip took her in his arms and crushed his lips to hers.

  At first, she tried to push away, but as he took her mouth the way she wanted him to take all of her, she relented. Waves of pleasure rippled through her body, the chemistry between them was undeniable. Flashes of memory came back to her from their time in the woods, and butterflies danced in her belly.

  The crowd began to clap, and there were even a few whoops. She heard someone clearing their throat, probably her mother. The queen did not care for public displays of affection.

  Hip pulled away. "It's not that I refuse to marry you. It's that I will not force you to marry me simply because of a race. I'd like to court you and give you the opportunity to decide if you'd like to marry me or not."

  Suddenly, she forgot why she'd been angry with him.

  "But I need to be engaged," she whispered. "Trust me."

  He stared down at her with those intense green eyes, and she found herself hoping her children would look up at her with those same eyes.

  "Then I will ask your father for your hand, because I would love nothing more than for you to be my wife."

  It took her a minute to process what he was saying. He'd won the right to marry her, to become king one day, but only if she wanted him?

  Hip stepped away from her and approached her father. "Your Highness, I would like to ask for the hand of your lovely daughter, Atalanta. She is far and away the most amazing woman I have ever met, and I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

  Her father threw his arms around Hip. "Welcome to the family, son."

  As soon as her father released Hip, her mother pounced on him, holding her hand out for Hip to kiss.

  Atalanta flushed with embarrassment at her parents' display. It was like they'd thought she would become an old maid the way they were acting. But she couldn't help but notice Hip handled the royals with grace.

  Maybe her mother was right. There were worse things than being under the spell of a man like him.

  The queen handed Hip a small box and whispered something in his ear. Atalanta suspected the box contained something from the collection of the crown jewels that had been in their family for centuries.

  Hip nodded to her mother then made his way back to her.

  As he stood in front of Atalanta, his expression held such affection for her that she almost had to look away.

  The man was so intense that it made part of her want to flee.

  Run, a voice inside her said.

  That was what she always did. It was who she was.

  But could she live the rest of her life that way?

  She didn't want to be a lonely old crone with nothing but the palace pets to keep her company.

  Her mother always talked of wanting grandchildren, but until today that fantasy seemed too farfetched for Atalanta to actually picture it.

  But standing across from Hip now, she could actually picture him throwing a ball with a young boy. A man with enough heart to release her from a commitment from which he could only benefit from—that was the sort of man she wanted to be the father of her children.

  Children she'd only begun thinking about five minutes ago when he kissed her.

  And what a kiss it had been. It had practically made her knees buckle.

  For as long as she could remember, she'd lived her life in a way that avoided taking risks. Instead, she erected an impenetrable wall around her heart, and it had made her a very lonely person.

  But now, Hip gave her the opportunity to change all that.

  At that moment, a couple of strange-looking men came up to Hip and pulled him aside to congratulate him.

  Atalanta couldn't catch what they were saying, but something about their body language and the expression on Hip's face told her they were trouble.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A week later Hip and Atalanta were finishing up dinner with her parents.

  "Would you like to retire to the library for a cigar and brandy, Hip?" the king asked.

  "Or we could go to the salon and discuss wedding plans?" The queen smiled coyly at Hip.

  Atalanta cleared her throat loudly and pushed her chair back from the long mahogany table. "He's coming on a walk with me."

  She walked around the table to where Hip sat and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Aren't you, dear?"

  "Well, if your parents..." he began, but she pinched his shoulder until he said, "Yes, I'm going on a walk with Atalanta. Another time?"

  Her parents nodded and grinned. They were so enamored of the man they considered their future son-in-law that they'd accept any crumb he threw them.

  The instant Hip stood up, Atalanta sprinted him into the great hall.

  "Come on," she hissed, peering over her shoulder and urging him to keep up.

  "I am. I can't help it I'm engaged to the fastest girl in the world."

  "Hush." She jabbed playfully at his arm then sprinted down a side hallway, her hand in his.

  When they got to her destination, she placed her hand on the door and looked to her left then right.

  Satisfied that no one would see them enter the room, she turned the knob and opened the door. As soon as she and Hip snuck inside, Atalanta closed the door behind her and wrapped her arms around him.

  He held her close and claimed her mouth with his. His hardening erection pressing against her lower abdomen told her he was in favor of her plan.

  "I thought you said we were going for a walk," he teased, trailing a line of kisses down her throat.

  "We did. We walked to my bedroom," she said matter-of-factly as her fingers went to work unfastening his pants.

  "This is your bedroom?"

  "Mmmhmm." It was dark, and she saw no reason to turn on the lights. There was enough moonlight streaming in through the window for them to find their way to the bed.

  She slid her hand beneath his underwear over his turgid cock and cupped his balls with one hand and locked the door with the other.

  With a groan, he struggled with how to get her out of her clothes.

  "It's a zipper." She extricated hands from his pants, turned her back to him, and brushed her hair out of the way.

  "Thank the gods," he murmured as he freed her from her dress.

  The garment fell to the floor, and a cool wave of air sent goose bumps rising on her flesh.

  When she faced him again she noticed he'd stripped naked, and she paused to admire him standing there exposed, dick hard against his flat stomach.

  She reached for it, encircled her hand around it, and tugged at his shaft until he closed his eyes getting lost in her touch.

  Dropping to her knees, she took him in her mouth while her pussy pulsed with longing.

  He entwined his fingers in her hair and sent his rod to the back of her throat, making her almost gag. Instead, it sent a wave of desire through her so strong that she moaned as she played with his balls.

  It wasn't long before he withdrew his cock, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

  Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dim lighting so she could see the outline of his hard body against the glow of the moonlight. He was so handsome with his square jaw and chiseled nose.

  As soon as he laid her on the bed, she opened for him.

  "That's a good girl."

  She laughed. "I'm not sure that's
what my parents would say."

  "Fuck 'em." He laughed.

  "They really like you, you know."

  He climbed onto the bed, settling himself between her legs. "That's not what I want to be thinking about right now."

  "Sorry." She felt the head of his cock press against her entrance, and she squirmed underneath him, coaxing him to enter her.

  He bent his head and took the tip of her breast into his mouth, his tongue running circles around the awakened nipple.

  She whimpered with frustration. He had a way of getting her so aroused she thought she'd go insane from it.

  "Something wrong?" he teased.

  "Oh my god, please." She writhed underneath him.

  "Please what? I want to hear you beg."

  Even though it was against her nature to let anyone get the better of her, there was something about him that made her feel safe. She was okay with letting him have the upper hand in bed. In fact, she'd found a surprising amount of freedom in letting him dominate her.

  In every other area of her life, she fought to maintain control. It could be exhausting, so it was nice to have a man who she could occasionally hand over the reins to.

  He had been so single-minded in his quest to win her that it made her trust in his love for her. And because she knew he loved her, she was able to be vulnerable and show him a side of herself she'd never shown anyone before.

  "Take me. Please do it. I need to feel you inside me."

  "That's my girl," he said as he plunged deep inside her wanton channel.

  Her legs clamped around his waist, and she brought her hips up to meet his.

  He filled her completely, and she reveled in his weight upon her as she clutched his buttocks, spurring him on.

  As if sensing her urgency, he backed off the pace. And before she knew it he was thrusting so slowly that it was sweet torture enduring every sensation as he dragged his cock away from her before driving it back in again. Each second was exquisite agony mixed with dizzying pleasure. The intensity of it made her head rock from side to side.

  She growled her protest, but he silenced her by burying his tongue in her mouth. He tasted like heaven, and she wanted to drink every bit of him.

  Finally, the crescendo building in her body reached its breaking point, and she fell over the edge of ecstasy into a place only he had been able to take her to.