Blood of Zeus: Book One

by Meredith Wild

  “Dinner would be perfect,” he says, finally tearing his gaze from me to placate my mother.

  “Fabulous. I’ll send you Kara’s information. I can’t wait to start.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maximus

  On a last-minute whim a few years back, I decided to try running the LA Marathon. I ended up carrying another guy for the last five miles, since he’d promised his girlfriend he’d see her at the finish line despite the lung disease kicking his ass. His name was Montague. He insisted I call him Monty. And the grin on his face never vanished, despite how he’d hardly been able to breathe.

  Right now, I feel like changing my name to Monty.

  Because somehow I’ve made it through the last hour talking about the pitfalls of primitivity, lust, and unbridled appetites without giving in to a single one of mine. And without casting so much as a glance toward the woman who’s still searing me with her simple presence.

  I can do this. Already have done it. Mostly.

  Only three minutes left…

  Screw it.

  “I say no more to you, answer no more.”

  As soon as I’m done reciting the line from Canto VI, I close my leather-bound book with a one-handed whomp. “That seems like a serendipitous place to stop for the day, yes?”

  I’m answered with a collective groan of relief from across the room. I raise my voice so my follow-up cuts through the din of rustling backpacks and reactivated phones.

  “To be clear, ladies and gentlemen, my leniency extends no further than this early dismissal. Your term project proposals are still due by five p.m. today. That’s a printed version, bound in proper format, on my desk in the Archer Building. This project is worth fifty percent of your grade.”

  By the time I conclude the speech, it’s clear I’ve been tuned out in favor of chattering about tonight’s events. The Conquistador Crush is one of the highlights of the school year at Alameda, a ten-day whirlwind kicked off by a formal fundraiser ball, a rock concert on the campus green, and then a four-day weekend carnival.

  Tonight I have to don a monkey suit and make an obligatory appearance at the formal bash. The fact that they’re staging this year’s event in the library courtyard, literally steps from my office door, is little consolation. At least I’ll have a good excuse for escaping the throng. There should be a good-sized stack of papers on my desk before the afternoon has waned.

  The emptied hall should give me some relief. But as long as Kara remains, I can’t erase the visceral awareness of her. Pretending to ignore her through the hour hasn’t stopped every drop of my blood from percolating for her—especially in this moment, when her stubborn stillness forces me to raise my stare to her.

  “Goddamn.”

  The word escapes me, primal and guttural, as I fully take her in. The dark gleam of her loose-braided hair. The enticing pearl buttons of her silky white blouse, and the matching zipper pulls of her pristine ankle boots.

  But most of all, another pair of sleek and sinful jeans—black this time—hugging every line below the waist as she rises up and crosses the short distance between us.

  “Kara.”

  “Maximus,” she replies in an equally icy tone.

  I compress my lips. Her censure is pure frostbite, though I should be grateful for every freezing syllable. My composure needs it. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Hmm. How about starting with acknowledging that I exist?” she snaps.

  She strikes a determined pose, killing all thoughts of ice-covered landscapes. I swear to God, real flames are whorling in the depths of her eyes. It’s got to be just a play of my imagination, but I swear by everything that’s holy, it’s the most captivating sight I’ve ever seen.

  Except I’m even more conflicted now.

  “Kara. Damn it.”

  “Are you really going there? Right now? With this weird pretense that I’ve offended you?”

  “You haven’t offended me, okay? It’s just—” I stop and drag a hand through my hair. “You’re more of a distraction to me here than I think you realize. Does that make sense?”

  She rocks back on a heel and drags in a long breath. “So if I sit in the back again, your ice-out will be less obvious?”

  I don’t answer, because I crave her closeness as much as I recognize the dangerousness of it.

  “What changed in two days that you can’t even look at me?” Her voice is softer now, more vulnerable. And the kindle in her eyes has simmered into a sheen of hurt that rips my fucking heart out.

  More than that. I’m torn to the foundations of whatever is beyond that.

  I have no easy labels for it because I’ve spent my whole life pretending none of it exists. That there are parts of me best left unexplored. A wide tundra of my spirit covered by my self-imposed frost, now melting beneath her singular, stunning fire. Even if that heat manifests as her fury. Maybe because of it. Maddening temptress. She’s not letting me duck and run—which should have me snarling at her like a trapped dragon—but instead, I’m letting the tundra burn. Worse, I’m secretly yearning for more kerosene on these flames.

  A kerosene called Kara. A wildfire I can’t possibly fight. Not even with all the mental resources I’ve amassed over the years. None of it—the self-control, the discipline, the fear, the inner forewarnings—feels like enough. So why am I even trying?

  The answer pounds the perimeter of my skull. Clamors at the confines of my chest.

  “Fuck,” I mutter while circling behind the podium. I pretend to be busy closing the presentation program on my laptop. Gliding my fingers across the touchpad brings a welcome dose of cool control. My prolonged silence has her heaving an angry huff.

  “Look. I’m not trying to be clingy here. I don’t need your tongue down my throat for personal validation. But if you’re still going for the excuse of maintaining professional appearances, I’m not the only one who isn’t buying it. I’m the student who knows this material the best—but in the last hour, you barely acknowledged I was breathing, let alone thinking. You know what that looks like to anyone observing us with half a brain, right?”

  Instead of answering her, I funnel my frustration into slamming my computer shut. The resultant sparks and smell of fried fuses have me adding a trip to the electronics store on my trip home.

  “Remarkably, a few of us mere mortals outside the Valari universe are aware of what ‘optics’ are.” From the second I bite out the words, I long to take them back. The yearning grows as Kara steps back like I’ve daggered her.

  Returning to her seat, she hastily stuffs her belongings into her red leather backpack. The mortification on my face probably matches the hue by now.

  “Kara.”

  “I’ll get out of your hair now.” She’s stuttering in time to my goddamned heartbeat. I’m losing her. Fast.

  “Kara.”

  As she starts up the steps, I realize I only have one hope here. The truth.

  “Kell came and talked to me,” I call out at last.

  When she stops and turns, my lungs expel what feels like three days of air. Except she looks like my confession is the equivalent of another knife through her middle.

  “She…what?”

  “Yesterday. We bumped into each other outside Jesse’s office. Apparently she had some things she wanted to say.” I drag a hand through my hair again. It does little to ease the awkward moment. Though it’s little consolation, her reaction answers my curiosity about whether Kell told her anything about our chat.

  “Why does this even shock me?” Despite her bitter mutter, the news impacts her hard. She plunks down on her ass, stretching her legs out along the adjoining step.

  “But you’re not actually shocked,” I return. “Right?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Her defeated tone is like a sheep hook around me. At once, I put down my destroyed laptop and clear the handful of steps to reach her side. I lower down beside her and loop my arm around her shoulders.

  She set
tles in, notching her head against me and pressing a hand to the center of my chest. And just like that, I’m complete again. As complete as I can feel these days. So much of me has been splintered into so many pieces. More astounding is how it’s all happened so fast.

  Because of her?

  I don’t want to answer that, even to myself. Part of my mind scrambles for other excuses, but they’re all lame. This is the truth, as unreal and unexpected as it seems. I’m fissuring, and she’s the chisel.

  But chisels are meant for sculpting as well as fracturing. As thoroughly as Kara has split me open, so much of me believes she’s a key to the answers. The healer of my open wounds. Her warmth drenches me as if the roof’s been cut back and the sun’s shining directly in on us. It’s as perfect as the fire in her eyes, the electricity of her touch, and the connection I feel to both. I don’t know how she’s even real, but I’m damn glad I’m the one who’s holding her close right now—and getting clutched so possessively in return.

  She frees a heavy sigh into my pectoral. “Let me guess. Kell told you to stay away from me. That you have to stay away.”

  “In so many words.”

  “But she didn’t tell you why.”

  An odd certainty underscores her tone. I replay the conversation with Kell in my mind, unable to latch on to anything other than the memory of her concern.

  “Whatever her reasons are for not wanting you to see me, they’re probably valid.”

  I’m not sure I mean that. Not completely. Learning the specifics behind Kell’s warning might not change anything besides deepening my determination to prove her wrong in every way. Or maybe it’d make me hate myself even more for ultimately not being the guy Kara truly deserves. Because I care enough about her now to recognize that fact. She deserves a hell of a lot better than me.

  “So you believed her,” she finally rasps, curling her fingers into a tight fist against my chest. “When she said…whatever she said.”

  “I believed that she believed it,” I reply. “And that she was confronting me out of her love for you.” I pause for another moment. “I also think our connection frightens her.”

  Kara gulps hard. “It does.”

  “You’re sure of it?”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “My family…” She drops her gaze to where she’s sneaked a fingertip between the buttons of my shirt, grazing the skin beneath. “I’ve told you. Things are complicated.”

  “Kara?” I prompt, squeezing the ball of her shoulder. “What is it?”

  Two seconds into her weighted silence, I can already tell that answer won’t be forthcoming. Not even as she tugs away far enough to link her gaze directly with mine again. To let me see all the somber meaning in hers. But this time, without those glorious flames.

  I’m thankful she’s showing me what’s behind them instead. Her earnestness. Her nervousness. Her…fear. An emotion I fully recognize as it brews inside me too.

  I slide my hand up the side of her neck to where it can flatten to the side of her face. Beneath my palm, her skin is a collection of warm, strong angles—so unlike the bleak, desperate smoke in the backs of her eyes.

  Give me more, little temptress. Something. Anything.

  I’m about to say all of that when Kara darts her dark stare back up to me. “Does it frighten you, Maximus? This…us. Does it frighten you?”

  I work my fingertips around a few loose wisps of her hair. I tug on them gently while dipping my face closer to hers. “Not all the time. But sometimes…like here and now, looking at you like this, holding you like this…” I push in tighter, not stopping until our lips are grazing and our breaths are mingling. “Yeah. It scares the crap out of me.”

  For a long moment, Kara’s only response is the tripled pace of her breaths—then the second finger she adds to that sizzling touch atop my heart. The organ underneath pounds at the wall of my chest like a prisoner declaring mutiny, clamoring to throw itself right into her waiting hand.

  “You feel that?” I push more of her hand against my wild, bucking sternum. “You do, don’t you?”

  She jerks her way through a nod.

  “Then you understand. You know that I’m scared because I don’t understand so much of this. Nobody’s ever done this to me before. Had this kind of crazy power over me. I don’t know how it’s you or why it’s you. I only know I’m so damn glad it’s you.”

  She blinks slowly. “You are?”

  “Yeah. And God fucking help me, I want to know more of it. I’m burning to give you more.”

  “And I’ll take it.” Her lips, tasting like cinnamon, brush at the edges of mine. Her skin, smelling of roses, heats beneath my touch. She turns and presses tighter against me, delving her hands into my hair. “Everything this is, everything we are…I need it, Maximus. I need you.”

  “Then open up for me.” My croak is desperate, and I don’t give a shit. I secure a hand at her nape, holding her steady for my equally imploring stare. “Kara, please. Whatever these ridiculous Valari secrets are, I can handle it. All of it. Just trust—”

  My insistence is swallowed by the thrunk of the door that’s opened at the top of the stairs. A half-dozen students barge into the lecture hall. Kara scrambles to her feet, inviting the snickering stares the new arrivals shoot her way.

  I answer them with a quietly lethal glower as I rise, but their presence already has Kara racing to leave. I’m there behind her, following in her immediate shadow.

  At the top of the stairs, she stops. There’s a cramped audio and lighting control booth to the right. She takes my hand and tugs me into the enclosure. I have to admit, even with our small but curious audience, I’m fond of the new accommodations. It’s darker in here. And warm. I like having her this close. A lot.

  I’m mesmerized by what the fresh wash of shadows does to her beauty. Rather than subduing her glory, the dimness enhances every stunning feature, every entrancing curve. I dare to slide a palm to her waist, hiding the move between her body and the foam-lined wall. At once, our blazing connection flares to brighter intensity.

  “Listen,” she rasps. “These secrets you seem to think are so ridiculous? They’re not. They’re exactly the opposite. They’re…dangerous.”

  I smirk. “You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me?”

  “Don’t. Joke,” she spits.

  I pause, intrigued by her new claim. “Then stop evading.”

  “I’m not evading!”

  “You are. And I’m not giving up just because you said ‘dangerous.’” I tighten my hold on her hip, punctuating my newfound fervor on the matter.

  As she rakes her hand up my arm, her breath hitches. “Maximus… In spite of all your jaw-dropping, wow-inducing—well, you get the idea—but in spite of it, you’re still flesh and blood underneath. A mortal man.”

  I hike one brow. “As opposed to being what other kind of man?”

  She tightens her clench on my shoulder. “Just say you get the point.”

  I curl my hand until it’s wrapped around hers. “I get the point that underneath all of your jaw-dropping, wow-inducing, you-get-the-idea-ness, you’re still flesh and blood too.” I hold my next breath until I’m forced to exhale the raw truth. “And I’m invested in all of it, Kara. So whoever you are besides all that, you need to understand that I’m in this for you. And I want more, damn it. A lot more.” I stretch my thumb in, pressing it to the middle of her palm, which gives me what I crave most. Her gaze, lifting again to meet mine. “I’ll treasure it, okay? I’ll keep it safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

  She blinks up at me. Once, twice. In those two seconds, so many deliberations war across the sleek angles of her gorgeous face. I hate that I’ve caused her such confusion, but I could stand and watch the effects of it all day long.

  “Thank you.” She lets her touch descend, releasing more currents up and down my arm, and then wraps her fingers over my forearms. “Your words mean more than you could possibly imagine.” />
  I drop my head until my forehead is less than an inch from hers. “Then why do you look like I’m asking you to cut off a limb?”

  “Because losing you will feel that way.” She confesses the last of it on a quivering breath. “And if I give you the truth, that’s probably what will happen.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  Another shaky sigh from her. “Max—”

  “Do you really think that little of me?” I push in closer, yearning to slam that allegation into her with a kiss. But more students are filtering into the lecture hall now, as well as the ethics professor. While the woman isn’t a close friend, she knows me well enough to pick me out of a police lineup. Or a dim tech control booth.

  “Whatever it is,” I say, “none of it changes you. What I already see in you—and feel about you.”

  Kara gives me another long silence. She bites her lower lip, giving away her pensive conflict, before dropping her hands. “I—I have to think about this.” She moves back by a sizable step. “Besides, we can’t talk here.”

  “Then where?” I growl.

  She retrieves her backpack from the floor. “You’re going to the fundraiser tonight, right? In the library?”

  “Yes.” I thread my fresh confusion into the word. “Are you?”

  “They’re christening the Veronica Valari Wing at eight. What do you think?” She steps close again. “That also means that by eight thirty, everyone in my family will be in limousines, heading back to the Hills for the after-party. And nobody else at the event will be caring about what’s happening in the older stacks.”

  My attempt at sobering my smile is a lost cause. “A rendezvous in the old library? Do you know how many new ways I just fell for you?”

  She fights her own smirk. I lean against the wall in a casual stance to dodge my true desire here. To grab her, complete with her well-bitten lips and her sexy-smart brain, and kiss her senseless, the social media explosion be damned. I’m soaring too high with satisfaction and anticipation to care about it right now.