Lure of Obsession (The Muse Chronicles Book 1)

by Lisa Kessler

  She nodded slowly. “It seems that way.”

  “Like, seriously a muse?” A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “You look damn good for your age.”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it like exactly?” His shoulders tensed. “I think I have the right to know.”

  She braced herself and forced out the words. “I didn’t know until I was eighteen. I started having dreams of all the Theaters of the Muses throughout the centuries, and the final one was here in Crystal City. So then I had to come here. I was compelled, I guess. Obsessed. Anyway, when I got here, I found my sisters. There were nine of us, and each of us had dreams that led us to the condemned theater.”

  “So your dad isn’t a Greek god?”

  “No. But after we found each other, we compared notes and learned we were all having the same dreams. Crazy, right?” Mel sighed. “Aspects of our personalities were enhanced by the muse inside of us, too.”

  She waited for him to reply or ask a question, but his silent investigator stare continued.

  She cleared her throat. “Anyway, Clio could read Greek and started researching. There are ancient stories about the muses being reborn to each generation. We’re charged with inspiring mankind to move forward—inventions, music, and science. We can change the world. So we all settled here, bought the theater, and now we’re trying to restore it.”

  Nate rested his hands on the edge of the bench, leaning toward the waves as if he was going to bolt at any minute. “So I was drawn there, too?”

  “As I understand it. Each Guardian is a mortal man, just like us, but he has a muse to protect and a ‘gift’ to help protect her, but it doesn’t present itself until he finds his muse. Honestly, I don’t know how this works. Maybe you were pulled there to stop the explosion, to protect us. Or me…”

  “Shit.” He pressed his lips together and blew out a pent-up breath. “And how was I picked for this detail?”

  Mel frowned. The prophecy hadn’t mentioned unwilling Guardians. It hadn’t occurred to her that he wouldn’t want the responsibility.

  Just when he was starting to make her believe the glass might be half-full…

  “Supposedly you were marked by the gods from birth,” she explained quietly.

  “They picked the wrong guy.” He got up and walked along the sand, his back to her.

  Mel’s heart hammered so hard she had to rub at the ache. She knew it was a lot to drop on someone. She didn’t blame him for running as fast as he could the other way. But she hated to admit that she was disappointed. At least Callie would be glad to know their pact was still intact.

  Mel got up and quietly went to crosswalk at the corner. Her car was parked at Gracie’s across the way. She reached to press the button when a large hand caught her wrist.

  Nate’s deep voice teased her senses. “Where are you going?”

  She dropped her hand and stared up at him. “You said you were the wrong guy. I thought we were done. I’m not going to force you to help us.”

  “Wow.” He rocked back, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle. “Forgive me for not embracing this insanity instantly. Give me a few minutes to think this through.” His tone softened a little. “I’m not turning my back on you.”

  She pulled her hair back from her forehead, staring at her shoes. “I guess I should probably tell you that the muse that awakened in me is the Muse of Tragic Poetry.” She tentatively peered up at him. “Jumping to the worst-case scenario is sort of my go-to since I turned eighteen.”

  Nate laughed, a real, warm laugh that sent heat all the way down to her toes. “That’s why you teach high school poetry.”

  Mel elbowed him playfully and walked back over to the bench without looking back to see if he was following her. He took a seat beside her, and his smile faded.

  “When I took you home the other night, I touched the light switch and saw a man’s hand in a black glove turning it off. I thought I imagined it until I leaned on the banister and another vision showed up. In that one, a man wearing a black robe and a gold Kronos mask shoved your roommate down the stairs.” He brought a hand up to trace along the edge of her jaw. “I didn’t want you to be next.”

  Her pulse jumped at his tender caress. “Psychometry. You touch things and see what happened. Your gift.”

  He sighed and pulled away, leaving her aching for his touch again. “I wouldn’t call it that exactly. It doesn’t work all the time, and I can’t figure out how to turn it on.”

  “Maybe it only activates if there’s been violence.”

  He straightened up and met her eyes. “No. When we kissed the other night, I saw all the cities, all the Theaters of the Muses, and it ended here in Crystal City.” He took her hand. “It’s you. The visions have to be connected to the muses, don’t they? That’s why I saw your roommate’s killer and not the hit-and-run driver the other day. The injured bicyclist wasn’t a muse.”

  Okay, he was smart, too. Not only did he have a chiseled body and a scar, but with his intelligence and his ability to make connections, he would’ve been her type even if he weren’t sporting a mark from the gods.

  She nodded, refocusing. “Maybe that’s what drew you to the theater.”

  “Maybe? Once I got there and touched the fence, I saw a man in black sliding through an opening. The rest was instinct, I guess.”

  Her stomach chose that moment to remind them both that they hadn’t eaten dinner. Nate grinned and stood up, offering his hand. “Think they still have a table for us?”

  She took his hand, savoring the sizzle. “Only one way to find out.”

  Mel’s eyes sparkled as she discussed her students. She may have been the Muse of Tragedy, but she had no trouble laughing and obviously loving her kids and her work. Nate had a soft spot for kids. It was the relationships that led to children that were a problem. His alcoholic father had beaten his capacity for love and trust—of adults, at least—out of him.

  The scar on his arm from the bullet wound was the least of the battle wounds covering his body. Cuts from broken beer bottles, cigarette burns, and gashes from being shoved to the ground made him into a canvas of abuse, a reminder to him that trust and dependency only brought pain.

  Maggie’s toothless grin filled his head. She had depended on him, and look where it got her. He sipped his soda and forced himself to focus on Mel.

  “Did you want to be a teacher before you found your…muse?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” She shrugged. “I always loved to write, but I’m too social to be a writer for a living. Hours of being alone at a keyboard would make me nuts. Plus, I like kids. There’s a moment when they finally grasp a concept and you can almost see it in their eyes.”

  She sat back against her chair and smiled. “It’s a high to know you inspired someone.”

  “I can imagine.” He could also get used to seeing her smile.

  “So what about you? Did you always want to be a policeman?”

  Too close to home. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I don’t know. I was always tangling with the bullies in school. I wasn’t a big guy then, but I did what I could to keep them away from the smaller kids. I never understood picking on someone just because you could.”

  He ground his teeth, refusing to allow his father to ruin his night. He grabbed the check. “Are you still staying with your friend?”

  She nodded.

  “She was a firecracker. What’s her muse?”

  “I’m going to start calling her that.” Mel laughed. Jesus, he wanted to hear more of that. “Callie’s the Muse of Epic Poetry.”

  He chuckled. “All five feet of her?”

  “Right?” Mel grinned. “Obviously the gods have a sense of humor.”

  They definitely had a twisted sense of humor when they marked him as a Guardian and then sat back and let him get the shit beat out of him by his own father.

  But he kept that to himself. He walked her to her car and stopped at the door. “I’m still tryi
ng to wrap my head around all of this.”

  “I know.” She stared up at him from under dark lashes. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure.”

  Her lips curved at the corners like a shy smile. “I liked you way before I saw the mark on your shoulder.”

  Without thinking, he bent to brush his lips to hers. She returned the kiss, her mouth soft and slow against his. He slid his arms around her waist, drawing her tight to his body. She fit perfectly in his arms. His pulse shot below his belt until his erection pressed against her, aching for more.

  He tasted her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him. The moan that escaped her nearly undid him. He pressed her back against the car, bringing one hand up into her hair, tangling his fingers in the silky strands.

  Her hands wandered lower, gripping his ass. He rocked his hips against her, his desire overriding rational thought until she broke the kiss, breathless. “Take me to your place.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hand and hustled her to his car. The drive was a blur, like he couldn’t breathe until he had her back in his arms. He kissed her again as soon as she got out.

  “Malone!”

  Cold shower. He turned around to find John jogging toward him. He stared at Mel for a second, and then narrowed his eyes at Nate. “Am I interrupting?”

  His tone made it plain that he knew damned well he was fucking interrupting. Nate took a step away from Mel. “We ran into each other, and I gave her an update on the case. You remember Melanie Jacoby. Mel, this is my partner, Detective Gilman.”

  John shook her hand, his tense expression unchanged. “Good to see you again. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Mel released his hand, crossing her arms. “Thank you. I’m choosing to focus on finding her killer instead of her loss.”

  John raised a brow. “There’s no evidence of a killer. Didn’t you tell her, Malone? The ME ruled it an accidental death.”

  Why was John being such a dick? Nate frowned. “Why are you here?”

  “You weren’t answering your cell phone. We got a potential lead on the C-4 in the theater.”

  Shit. He hadn’t even looked at his cell phone during dinner. “Let me grab my badge.” He turned to Mel. “Sorry about this. I’ll drop you back at your car in a minute.” He glared at John. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  John smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Mel waited on Nate, half expecting his partner to arrest her. It wasn’t a crime to make out with a detective, but judging by his partner’s reaction, she’d definitely offended him in some way.

  “Sleeping with him isn’t going to bring your friend back,” he said, keeping his attention on the gate to the condos that Nate had just gone through.

  She put a hand on her hip. “Excuse me?”

  He glanced her way and then back to the gate. “Nate’s a good detective. He knows better than to get involved with a witness.”

  “So I must be seducing him?”

  He shrugged. “You tell me.” He finally met her eyes. “What’s your endgame?”

  “Is it so shocking that I think Nate is a great guy?”

  A flash of concern lined his eyes before his stern law enforcement mask settled back into place. “I just don’t want to see him getting tangled up with a witness, and when things go south, I don’t want to see her reporting him to the department.”

  Mel sighed. A tiny part of her had to respect that John was protecting his partner, but still… “You just assume it’ll ‘go south’ and you don’t even know me. Nice.”

  “I know Nate. Women fall all over him, and they’re hurt when he walks. You were a witness he questioned. He shouldn’t risk it with you.”

  Mel crossed her arms. Tightly. “You’re warning me that he gets around?”

  Nate opened the gate, dressed in his standard slacks and button-down shirt. His holster was a new addition, too.

  John lowered his voice. “I’m warning you that he doesn’t do relationships, so if you’re going into it with that hope, don’t be pissed later.”

  “You’re still here.” Nate walked up.

  “Just chatting with Ms. Jacoby.”

  Nate looked at them both before raising a brow to his partner. “Were you being an asshole?”

  “No more than usual.” John met her eyes, and finally he nodded. “Nice seeing you again.” He went to his car, calling over his shoulder. “I sent you a text with the address, Malone.”

  “Be right behind you.”

  Mel got back in Nate’s car, her mind spinning. Nate hadn’t given her the “player” vibe at all, but the first thing he’d said when she told him about Guardians was that the gods picked the wrong guy. Maybe the relationship thing his partner mentioned was hidden in Nate’s comment.

  She stared out the passenger window, digesting Detective Gilman’s information. She’d had her share of heartbreaks over the years, and her most recent had come right before she’d moved to Crystal City. It had made making the no-dating pact with her sisters an easy choice at the time.

  But heartbreak was part of what made relationships a thrill—taking that risk. She didn’t usually shy away. The rush of emotion—the feeling of free falling—made diving in for another chance worthwhile.

  Or maybe that was her muse hungering for more tragedy.

  “You’re really quiet. Did John say something to upset you?” He glanced her way, then back to the street. “He really is a good guy, but he’s protective.”

  Mel reached across to rest her hand on his thigh. “He’s definitely that. He told me you’re not a relationship guy and if I get angry and report you, you could get in trouble with the department because you questioned me as a witness.”

  He rested a hand over hers. “Ever since I met you, keeping it professional has been practically impossible.”

  “So it’s true.”

  “Which part?”

  “You could get in trouble for seeing me.”

  He raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “I can handle a little trouble. How about you?”

  Scars and a thrill seeker. Gods help her…

  She smiled, looking over at him. “No risk, no reward, right?”

  He squeezed her hand and released it as he pulled into the parking lot behind Gracie’s. He parked beside her car and turned to her. “I need to chase down this witness with John. Can I call you later?”

  Mel nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” His smile faded. “Until I find out who was trying to blow up the theater, I’m going to assume it’s connected to your roommate’s attacker. Stay with Callie. Be safe.”

  She opened the door. “I will.”

  Mel got in her car and turned on the engine and the headlights. Nate waited, and then followed her out of the lot. He may not have thought he’d be a good pick for a Guardian, but he was dead wrong.

  He walked down the white runner toward their leader. His robed brothers and sisters cheered his approach, encouraging him forward. His breath echoed behind the thick mask. When he reached the platform, he removed the hood of his robe. Their leader anointed his head with oil before placing a laurel wreath over his hair.

  He turned to face the Order. They were a small group, twelve souls representing the twelve original Titans. And with their help, the children of Gaia would once again be free and bring about the Golden Age of Man. No more human wars or strife. No egos, no famine, only milk and honey.

  But first they needed to stop the daughters of Zeus. The muses could inspire the human race, bringing about new technologies that would eliminate the need to dig into the earth’s core, into the prison in which Kronos had been trapped by his own son.

  The cheers quieted, and their leader spoke. “Children of Gaia, Mother Earth calls us to free her son.”

  More cheers.

  “Our brother has brought us one step closer to the goal. The Muse of Astronomy is no more.” Their leader took his wrist and raised
it high like a prizefighter as he drank in the praise.

  “There is more to do, but we are moving the Order of the Titans forward. The Golden Age of Man will return, and we will be heralded as heroes of mankind.”

  He turned to face their leader and tipped his head down with reverence. When he straightened, he descended to join his brothers and sisters. Beside the platform was a stack of wood and twigs with twelve torches circling it. The members of the Order spaced themselves so they each stood behind one of the twelve torches.

  Their leader looked up at the night sky, calling to the heavens. “We send our victory to Uranus, Father Sky. Soon his children will be free.”

  He took up his torch in time with the others, lifting the flame above his head and awaiting the final signal from their leader.

  “Brothers and sisters of the Order of the Titans, tonight we celebrate with sky and earth.”

  All the torches touched the dry wood. Sparks flew into the night as the fire consumed it, and the black smoke rose up like a serpent. He smiled behind his mask.

  With a taste of accomplishment in his mouth, he vowed to continue his work until the muses were no longer a threat to their mission. He would become a hero for all time.

  Mel walked through the door to find all her sisters gathered in the circle around Callie’s round dining room table like King Arthur’s knights. “Wow, did I miss my invitation?”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “This is why we made the pact. While you were out on a date, the rest of us were here trying to figure out how to keep the theater safe until we can get it finished.”

  Mel took a seat. “So I guess you aren’t even curious about the Guardian prophecy Clio found?”

  They all turned her way, and Clio grinned. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Seems to be.” Mel glanced around the circle. “Nate has a birthmark on the back of his shoulder. He said it started burning when he met me, and it appears his gift is psychometry. We think it only works if the thing he touches is related to the muses—mainly, to me.”

  “I knew it was true. It’s so romantic.” Clio placed a hand over her heart.