Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series)

by Sandy Rowland

  Streaking through space, Apollo arrived at the Leavy Center and hovered above the pair, feeling the scowl transform his features. He might not be able to remove this human, but he could enjoy himself at his expense. The rodent reached for his paper cup and, with help, knocked it over, spilling sticky, brown liquid over himself. That should end the conversation.

  The man dabbed at his clothing with wads of paper napkins and stood to swath his darkening slacks. Apollo grinned at the display until Cassie rose to help. She wiped the man’s jacket and lower across his belt. Was the woman so naive? This John creature grinned at her attentions and she continued administrating the napkin down the front of his slacks.

  Enough. This activity had to stop. Apollo planted himself behind the human in line with Cassie’s vision, but invisible to all others. Her eyes grew round. She ended her stroking of the man’s slacks and stood. “I think we got most of it.” She smiled at the rodent.

  “Not a problem. I’ve some clothes in my car, but I better get changed and head to class.” John snapped up the tray soiled with brown, soaked napkins. “I’ll pick you up at your house at seven.”

  “Can’t wait.” She beamed at the man.

  Apollo felt heat flare in his eyes. Annoyance filled his chest and flowed through his limbs. That adoring look belonged to him, not that measly human. The man left and Cassie glared at Apollo. Not the look he’d wanted.

  “Proud of yourself?” She whispered the words through her teeth.

  “Is it my fault that mortal is clumsy?”

  Her violet eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing ‘yes’.” She tipped her chin up and stomped away.

  He’d had women turn from him. One ran, preferring the form of a laurel tree to avoid his ardor, but that had been millennia ago. And Cassie was human. She should have laughed at his antics, not derided him. Had women changed so much since he’d visited Earth?

  He waited to see if she’d stop and glance at him. Cassie sped her stride. His heart sank. Apparently mortal females no longer found his playfulness charming. Or was it only Cassie? Apollo’s gaze continued to follow her form. She stopped. His heart swelled. If she would turn and smile at him, then he’d know she only played at being angry. But she didn’t turn. Cassie paused, rubbed the back of her neck and walked on.

  Perhaps she wanted to be pursued. She had stopped her escape and that moment of hesitation on her part was all the proof he needed. Her pride stood between them. That’s what it was. She played with him. He did enjoy all manner of sport. And my Cassandra knows this. He’d join in her game. Females shied from being too easily won, and he would win. If she wanted the chase to go on a little longer, before her pride allowed her to succumb, so be it. He had time to indulge her—for now.

  * * *

  Cassie fumed all the way to her next class. How dare he? That arrogant, self-serving excuse for a god. This idiotic behavior at John’s expense had to stop. Wasn’t it enough that she was stuck with this gift of prophecy and she’d have to decide on a course of action? The damn vision of blood and destruction scared the hell out of her. She had to act. She turned her gaze heavenward. “Thank you for the gift,” she muttered through her teeth. “Leave me alone.”

  She’d find a way to warn her dad and then cut Apollo loose before he could ruin her chance at a normal relationship. But how? Her dad had already left for Greece. The attack might occur any moment. It might be too late. Tension tightened her jaw and a shudder ran through her body. No. Not happening. There had to be time to stop the attack. Otherwise, why tell her about it? She needed to persuade her dad and then convince him to do something. Not easy. The man was stubborn as rocks. Sending an email was ridiculous. She had to call him. Beg and plead if she had to. And if that didn’t work? Bitterness filled her mouth and she swallowed hard. Why didn’t Apollo appear to her dad? That would’ve made sense. Why torment her with this prophecy and the task of stopping it? Nothing about Apollo made sense. She’d like to string him up by that diaper he paraded around in. “Big, selfish baby.”

  Staring at her laptop, Cassie couldn’t focus on the professor, but typed out her argument for her dad. She had to build a case. She dug through the news, all the information on the volatile Middle East, anything that might lend weight to her plea. He had to believe her.

  * * *

  Cassie took a break from class at three in the afternoon, skedaddled to the privacy of her car and called her dad on her cell phone. She had to reach him before her date or it would be the middle of the night in Athens. That last dream had shaken her. The memory of automatic weapon fire still pounded in her head.

  The phone rang.

  And rang.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m unavailable to take your call. Please leave a message…”

  Cassie cut off and tried her dad’s phone again, but received the same irritating message.

  “Damn it,” she muttered as she went for another go at reaching him. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”

  It rang, went into message and she ended the call.

  Cassie scanned her notes. She couldn’t give up. All those people would die if she didn’t get through to her dad. He must be in a meeting. What was it, ten at night in Greece? Meetings weren’t held that late. Maybe a social gathering. “Ugh. Where are you?”

  She called again.

  And again.

  Cassie continued for fifteen minutes and…

  “Cassie? Why didn’t you leave a message?”

  “Hi Dad. Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Her relief at reaching him ended as she geared up to tell him her reason for the call.

  “I answered. I’m speaking to you, aren’t I?”

  “Um, yes.” Her throat tightened and she cleared it. “I know this might seem unlikely, but hear me out. I’ve come across information that our embassy in Athens is in danger of attack.”

  Silence met her warning.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Did your mother put you up to this to get me home?”

  “Mom? No.” It did sound like something her mother would do.

  “And when is this supposed to take place?”

  She could almost hear him shaking his head at her. “I’m not sure, but soon.”

  “Where did you come up with this?”

  Her stomach twisted. She knew he’d have to ask that. “I can’t say.”

  “Is this another feeling?”

  Damn.

  Cassie wanted to punch something, preferably a god in a diaper. “Dad, this is real. You have to believe me and close the embassy. Get out of Greece before people are killed.”

  Silence.

  “This sounds serious,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll check into intel regarding our embassy if you promise to do something for me.”

  Her dad cutting deals was never a good sign. But what choice did she have? “Okay. What do you want?”

  “Make an appointment for yourself with Dr. Malvo.”

  “Mom’s therapist?” Oh, hell.

  “Yes. Those are my conditions. I’m concerned.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled into her phone. “I’ll call her in the morning and you’ll check this out. Right?” Forget punching Apollo, she’d rather shoot him for getting her into this situation.

  “Of course. Good night, princess. I’ll call you at five your time tomorrow night.”

  “Good night, Dad.” The call ended.

  That went worse than expected. She knew he’d be difficult to convince, but now Cassie had to see Dr. Sylvia Malvo and be evaluated.

  “Damn Apollo.”

  At least she had something to look forward to. A date with tasty John Medina.

  * * *

  Hours dragged on to five o’clock and leaving her last class for home. And her date, dinner with a man that might be honest, could be as full of it as her last failure. Not every guy was a flake. She had friends who’d met great guys. Some were serious and looking forward to marriage. Not her.

  John had appeared inter
ested before Apollo dumped the drink in his lap. Jerk. She hadn’t seen that neanderthal behavior since high school. She didn’t appreciate it then, and less so now. Were all men little boys? Eric had lasted longer than most and then no explanation or official break-up. He just didn’t call. Like the others. A steady ache spread through her chest.

  Cassie hadn’t been willing to let it go. She’d invested her heart and her future in Eric. She’d called him, texted, sent him emails. No answers. In desperations she’d stalked him, hoping to confront the coward and find out what happened.

  That was a low moment.

  He’d threatened her with a restraining order. Imagine. All she’d wanted was closure. An explanation of why he’d walked away without the courtesy of a goodbye. Well, she’d gotten closure—and a hard slam to her ego. Eric looked uneasy when he’d seen her, but not sorry. There were words for men like him, but she didn’t use that kind of language in public. And he wasn’t worth demeaning herself further. Time to move on, but she had to be on her guard. John might dump her once he found the dull truth of her. Men didn’t want her, not for long.

  Except Apollo.

  Yes, he was gorgeous and he knew it. He said beautiful things, praised her looks and her eyes, but never once her intelligence. Still, taken as a whole, he’d be worth risking a chance. She shook her head. And why was she entertaining this messed-up relationship anyway? It couldn’t work. Apollo was a god. The idea went beyond dysfunctional to destructive. I’m not going there. He could only be interested in her as a curiosity, and once he grew bored, he’d be gone. Well, messing with her heart wasn’t an Olympic sport. Anger’s red haze filled her head. She was tired of being played with, and when she next saw that toga-clad child, she’d tell him so.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  How did human males function? From his abode in the godly realms, Apollo scowled into the full-sized mirror to access the European fit of his navy suit. The fabric cut close across his flanks and left little to the imagination regarding his masculine assets. With each breath the fabric strained against his chest as if the buttons might fly off like discuses hurled by Heracles. Apollo preferred the cool freedom of ancient dress to this suffocating clothing. In the ancient games they’d worn nothing to restrict them. But this sport required modern trappings. John dressed in this style. Apollo worked his jaw muscles. And Cassandra had smiled at the rodent.

  Apollo considered the coat, how it accentuated his broad shoulders, his trim waist, and how the navy hue played up his bright blue eyes. In all, the clothing had merits. Freedom and accessibility weren’t among them. But if that measly human could withstand the infringement to his neither regions, so could he.

  “What next?” Apollo scanned the list Artemis had given him: Ways to gain the love of women in this new age. “Suit—done.” Cassandra wouldn’t need flowers, not when she had him for her eyes to feast upon. “No flowers.”

  Perfume? He shook his head, dismissing the idea. The woman’s scent made his mouth water. Why hide it? “No perfume.”

  Chocolate? He’d meant to ask Artemis about the form of that gift, but became distracted when she said he needed shearing. His golden waves brushing his shoulders were his crowning glory. How many women had twisted their slender fingers in his long mane while they wrapped their legs around his hips in ecstasy? He smiled at the memories. No. That he refused. He would never come to Cassandra shorn of his beauty.

  Apollo scanned the list. “Listen.”

  That must be important. The goddess had written it in large, gold characters. That he could do. He’d make sure Cassandra listened to him. When he finished speaking, there’d be no doubt in her mind that she belonged to him. The list continued for another page, but Apollo folded the paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Enough for now. No need to overwhelm the girl. She’d fall into his arms, declaring her adoration for him.

  His uncle was a fool to wager against him. Apollo opened the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt and breathed in. He despised restraints. Physical freedom was part of the joy of being a god. How difficult to live as a mortal prone to illness and death. Fear ruled humanity, shackling them to the illusion of safety at the cost of greatness and freedom. Most wasted their short lives too afraid to follow the seed planted in their bosom urging them toward more, listening instead to other defeated souls as their guides. He shook his head. Such a dark and slight existence.

  Cassandra desired more of life. Passion burst from her. He felt it each time she argued with him. She fought to nurture her true self against her parents and the world. Her courage in Troy had won Apollo’s case with the gods and gained her spirit’s release from Hades. Few mortals displayed god-like virtue. Courage and determination were part of what he loved about her. And to have them bound together in soft olive skin, and expressive violet eyes with the power to heat his loins were gifts close to divine. Worthy of a god.

  Her courage and beauty were rivaled by her stubbornness. Each night as he kissed and caressed her in dreams, she’d let down her guard, and take part only to deny her passion in the light of day. He’d brought her repeatedly to the pinnacle, her body writhing upon the silk, panting, screaming her release. And without breaching proof of her maidenhood. That he’d take at her insistence and when she was fully awake. Apollo glanced once more at his reflection in the mirror. He must love her to go to such lengths.

  * * *

  Cassie considered the woman who’d bore her and doubted the genetic connection. Her mother stood before Cassie’s open closet. “Wear a dress.” She plunged into the back of the walk-in depths. “Where is he taking you? Some place nice, I hope.” Her mother emerged. “Wear the black number. Oh, and your diamond and sapphire earrings.”

  Cassie stared at her mother, holding the black lace dress above her head, shaking it in rabid insistence. “Mom, what I’m wearing is fine.”

  Her mother crinkled her nose and pressed the padded hanger into Cassie’s hand. “Be serious. Men are visual creatures attracted to beauty.” She tilted her head. “What are you doing with your hair?”

  “Nothing. I like it loose.”

  “Then curl it.”

  “John likes me as I am.” Cassie hoped that was true.

  Her mom snickered. “Oh, the intelligent ones all say that. Every man wants a goddess on his arm. Why not oblige him?”

  Patience ran short and the word goddess irked Cassie. “I’m not sure how I feel about John. Why should I work to impress him?”

  “You’re serious.” Her mother’s eyes widened. “You never know who you’ll meet when you’re out. Maybe this young man won’t measure up, but another might see you across the room, be captivated by your beauty and seek you out.”

  Cassie couldn’t believe her mom’s words. Nancy Priam was a modern woman, a respected dermatologist, and way too focused on appearance. Unfortunately, not much of a surprise.

  “I want to be loved for me,” said Cassie, her fingers tightening on the hanger until her knuckles ached.

  Her mom’s shrill laugh filled the room. “A man needs a reason to invest time to know you. After he’s fallen for the pretty package, you can unveil your idiosyncrasies—not before.” She made a clucking sound and shook her head. “You have it so backward, dear. No wonder you young girls have trouble finding a man to marry.”

  Cassie flinched at the cruel remark. Her mom could be so clueless.

  Dr. Nancy Priam lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean you, Cassie. You’re too young for anything as serious as marriage. It’s just that your generation is bombarded with advertising and few of you know how to market yourselves.” She threw up her manicured hands. “Unbelievable.”

  The entire conversation was unbelievable. “I’m not a product for sale.”

  Her mom’s red lips tightened. “It isn’t a question of whether we’re for sale or not. It’s haggling over the price.”

  The shock of her mother’s words shot through Cassie like Greek fire. Did her mom believe what she’d said? In wh
at way had Dr. Nancy Priam sold herself and to whom? Cassie took in her mom’s shaking hand as it again pushed the black dress at her, the harsh lines around her mouth and desperation darkening her blue gaze. Her mom could be the poster child for misery. For the first time in Cassie’s memory she felt sorry for her.

  * * *

  Sawdust and peanut shells were strewn about the floor of the Cattle Rustler’s Bar and Eatery. Cassie followed John through the conglomerate of truckers, family parties and servers, burdened by trays stacked high, to their table in the corner. She slid into the brown vinyl-covered booth. A beer bottle dangled above the table with a bulb screwed into the cut bottom, creating a crude lamp that glowed indifferent light.

  John grinned at her and pulled a peanut from the tin bucket on the table, cracking the shell in his large bronze hand. “Great place. Best steaks and ribs.” He popped the nuts into his mouth and chewed. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  The server, a thin young man decked in a black t-shirt with the words “Cattle Rustlers do it better” in beefy script over his chest, handed them menus. Cassie squinted at the offerings under the dim beer bottle and was glad she’d ignored her mom and worn jeans.

  “We’ll have two beers and the Stampede Platter,” said John.

  “And what dressings for your salads?” The server focused on her with quick green eyes.

  “Ranch on the side,” she said, irritated that John had side stepped her in ordering. “And no beer, just water.” The server nodded and left.

  “You don’t drink?” John crinkled his brow. “I knew you were brilliant. Are you a prodigy, one of those kids that finished college by sixteen? I’ve never been good at guessing a woman’s age. You are legal—right?”

  Cassie considered giving him a hard time and let him think he was out with jailbait. Served him right. He deserved to sweat it out for a while “That depends on what you mean by legal.”

  His gaze focused into a leveling stare. “You’re full of crap.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah.” He drummed his fingers on the glossy wood table. “I’m an information geek. You’re over 21 and no boyfriend. I checked you out before I took you to lunch.”