She taught me how to ride, and I guaranteed her we were going to beat the hooves off all the other horsey girls. We pounded down the dirt path toward the finish line, making a late grand entrance. I stayed braced low over her neck as we galloped up to the starting line at breakneck speed and slid to a dusty stop inches from Eros. He grinned up at me in approval and helped me down.
What a rush! For the first time since I started training, confidence filled me. We were going to kick some ass.
That feeling stayed with me right up to the point when I was standing in the chariot. Deep breaths. It’s only a little chariot racing, what can go wrong? Gripping the leather reins tightly in my sweaty palms, I slid my feet into the boots that were welded to the platform similar to skis. Molly hooked locking carabiners attached to wide leather straps through metal rings on the top edge of the chariot. Then ducked around me to hook the other end of the straps through loops that circled the waist of my tight leather tunic. A black motorcycle helmet with the flying arrow symbol fitted snugly onto my head.
The chariot was a wooden barrel that had been painted red and placed on a single axle connected to spoked wheels. The platform was a bit of a tight fit when Molly strapped herself in behind me. Her voice crackled over the speaker in my helmet. “Doing ok?”
My breathing was fast and shallow, like an asthmatic Darth Vader as I responded, “Uhhrr . . . Not . . .”
“You got this. Stay in your lane.” Molly pointed to the black lines on the dirt path that formed six lanes. The lanes continued around a bend a couple hundred yards down the path. “First sets are the straightaway. Go to the green line then back. Full track will come later.”
Ninny and Saam whinnied and tossed their heads, filling the air with the sound of jangling harnesses as if to say, “Let’s go.” A man carrying a green flag walked onto the track. He faced the grandstands and bowed. Flipping up my visor, I scanned the covered box area at the top of the grandstands to see the Kyrion seated upon thrones. Flags for each House waved in the breeze along the roof of the structure. Servant women in simple black chiffon dresses poured wine and set out dishes of food at small tables beside each throne.
Chaos rose from his seat at the center, and the servants scattered, quickly disappearing from sight. He strode to the balcony edge and braced his hands on the railing as he leaned forward to address us. His voice echoed through the area in that weird way that made it seem as if it were coming from all directions. “The chariot race is a game of great excitement, but also of great danger. A steady hand and trust in your team are essential. We do not wish harm to befall any of you during this training or during the competitions.” I felt the heavy weight of his gaze land on me briefly before he continued. “Gaia will be your host for the contest two days from now. May your teams be fleet of foot, and your judgment wise and swift.”
When Chaos resumed his seat, the flagman rose from his bow and faced us. He had an Irish accent and was dressed in a black toga-style garment. His gray hair fell to his shoulders, but his eyes were a sharp green as he took the measure of each charioteer.
“Ah’right, then. There’re two parts to this trainin’ day. You get an hour to test yer teams out there on the track first, and then ye race ’em. Time’ll start when I drop me flag.”
I dropped my visor, then held my breath as he raised the flag over his head and brought it down swiftly before running to the sidelines. We lurched forward with a suddenness that made me thankful for the straps that kept me from falling. Gripping the loops of the reins tightly, I used them to hold me up. Molly barked orders rapid-fire.
“Don’t hold the horses back.”
“Balance against the chariot wall.”
“Don’t pull to one side.”
Oops—that one came a little too late. Mikhail the Lothario flipped me off when I veered into his lane.
I got us safely back on course, and we whipped down the path, kicking up dust in every direction. I focused on the ground churning under the horses’ hooves and my stomach dropped out. We were so close to those hooves. Molly yelled at me to not look down—again instructions that came too late. The green line appeared much too quickly. My already sore muscles strained as I followed Molly’s directions on how to get the horses into a U-turn to go back down the straightaway. I learned that chariots don’t corner like a car. So did Mikhail when I clipped his gold chariot before finally straightening us out.
An hour later my whole body was shaky and I was slick with sweat. We halted the chariots at the starting line and were given a break before the race. Molly helped me unhook and dropped an arm around my shoulders to support me as I stepped down from the platform. Ugh, sea legs. My body was still bouncing and swaying. My thighs protested every step, which made it all the more difficult to keep my balance.
God, it felt good to peel off the stuffy helmet and take big lungfuls of fresh air. The breeze cooled my overheated skin as I used the warm-up poses Molly had taught me to stretch my tired muscles. A robust young man in another black toga-like outfit escorted Molly and me to a circle of plush benches set in the shade of the tree line. We had barely settled onto a bench before he took up a huge black palm frond to fan us. Another male servant handed us each a platter of fruits, cheeses, and nuts. Another brought us goblets of water that I gulped down, not caring about the excess that trickled down the sides of my face. I shoveled down food until my stomach no longer growled as if it was ready to eat someone. Nibbling contentedly on a succulent strawberry, I glanced around the circle.
At every bench, a contestant was being fussed over by barefooted servants of the opposite sex. Chris almost choked on a grape when a young blonde servant flashed her ample cleavage as she bent forward to refill his cup. Finished with my strawberry, I relaxed back against the bench.
Immediately one of the male servants approached and bowed to me. “Potential, permit me to give you a massage?” he asked in a lightly accented voice.
The boy couldn’t have been any older than his early twenties. He glanced up at me when I didn’t answer right away. His tanned skin glistened like sun-kissed bronze, setting off the perfection of his pearly smile. Jet black hair tumbled in messy curls around his face, and sharp hazel eyes full of life twinkled back at me.
“Uh, no thanks. I’m good,” I mumbled.
He frowned and darted a glance at Molly. “Potential, if I do not please you perhaps you would pick another?” He looked at me like I had kicked his puppy.
Crap, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “What? No . . . I—”
“Grayson, this one is stubborn. Let me,” Molly told him and turned to me. “They are the prizes,” she said bluntly. She saw the look on my face and rushed on. “Hold the phone, warrior princess. Don’t go storming the grandstands. They volunteer.”
I glanced at Grayson who nodded his head in agreement. “It is my honor, Potential. I demonstrated much skill to win the privilege of first approach.” When I looked puzzled, he stepped closer. “Let me ease your sore muscles, and I will tell you. Yes?”
“Um, ok,” I reluctantly agreed. He gifted me with a boyish smile that lit up his whole face. Then he dropped to his knees and reached for me. I pressed myself against the back of the bench. “Whoa, what’re you doing?”
“I’m sorry, Potential.” He looked up at me with solemn eyes and my heart melted. “I did not mean to startle you. I am not permitted to do more until the victor of the race has been declared, but I would massage your hands. Perhaps your arms and shoulders. This is agreeable?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said, embarrassed that I had been so jumpy. He gifted me with another of his smiles. The little brat had just conned me. God help the woman that he set his sights on; she would be a goner before she knew what hit her.
Grayson waved over one of the other men who handed him a bottle of almond oil. For the next half hour, I sighed and groaned in bliss as he massaged any exposed skin he could reach with those magic hands. He talked to me as if I was a skittish horse, soothing me w
hen his hands delved beneath the collar of my shirt to ease the knots from my shoulders. All the while he did exactly as he had promised by explaining things to me.
He belonged to the House of Shadows, which was based in Spain. He was the youngest of five and the only son. He claimed that his older sisters were the reason why he was wise beyond his twenty years, then he shot me another of those smiles. I couldn’t help but laugh. What a charmer; he was definitely going to break some hearts.
When I asked him about being a prize for the Games, he explained that every year each House opened its doors to allow members aged eighteen to twenty-one to present themselves as volunteers to be awarded to the contestants in the Games. Among their people, it was a great privilege to serve the Potentials. After all, the Potentials were champions representing the Houses. There was nothing sexual involved unless both parties were willing. He seemed genuinely happy to be here.
Grayson had earned the right to approach me first out of the four men assigned to me, because of the ranking he received when all the volunteers demonstrated their skills to the Kyrion. He puffed out his chest with pride as he told me he was ranked first out of all the volunteers and would, therefore, have more freedom at the Games than the others. He gestured at his solid black attire, saying that the Games were the only time in their lives that members did not wear their House symbols and were given a chance to be ranked across all Houses. The ranking helped both the Kyrion and the young volunteers since it acted like a placement test for determining what each young person’s role would be within their House.
I was so fascinated by his stories that I lost track of time. Molly interrupted to tell us that it was time for the race to begin. Before I could stand, Grayson leaned down to brush a kiss against the back of my hand. He grinned up at me. “We are friends now, yes?” I nodded. “I will find you after the race,” he said as his hand brushed against my cheek before he walked away.
Molly rolled her eyes. “C’mon, before your harem kidnaps you.”
16
The grass tickled my bare feet as I tiptoed through the trees, avoiding the pathways. The wind swirled around my bare legs, causing me to shiver in my sleep shirt. I scanned the area, diligently searching every shadow. The coast was clear.
My bare feet raced across the path not making a sound. The fires were already lit and swayed merrily in welcome as I passed into the center of the Chaos’s courtyard. Skirting the edge of the pool, I made my way directly to the statue and pressed my palm over his heart. Hello, remember me?
A moment of silence ticked by before a whispered voice responded, “Lyannìa . . .”
From the depths of the statue a presence surged forward to invade my body. Fire sparked to life across my back. My mouth fell open in a silent scream as the breath was seared from my lungs. Every cell of my body felt as if it were being stretched and remolded. Stop! Please, make it stop. My back bowed in agony. My lips stretched wide around screams that there was no air to sustain. Bright starlight twinkled from the statue, growing brighter with each passing moment until it exploded out around me.
I was hurtled across the courtyard, my raw back crashing into the ground. Pain arched my body up into the heavy weight that was trying to hold me down. My eyes were blinded to all but the starlight. Distantly, I felt a rough grip around my wrists pulling me into a sitting position. Hands cupped my face, and Chaos’s incredulous voice floated to me as if from a great distance. “Your eyes! They are the white of a god’s. How . . . What have you done, Jillian Davies?”
But I was lost to the will of the starlight as it carried me into the vast field of darkest space. There we became as one. And though the light burned me still, I felt no pain. It taught me the wonder of creation as together we formed a world with a single thought. I tapped my finger upon the world of my creation, and it shattered to dust.
Creation and destruction. Change. Yes, these were worthy endeavors.
“Jillian, focus on me. Follow my voice. You need to remember who you are. Remember your friends, Claudia and Molly. They need you to return to them.” Fingers swept through my hair and caressed my cheeks. “The horse Ninny. You remember her? You enjoyed riding her. Come back, and you can ride her any time you wish.”
Was this also creation? This tiny voice that called to me? A speck of light, brighter than the thousands surrounding it, beckoned me near.
Destroy?
No, this creation did not need destruction. But change. Change without destruction was transformation. Yes, this creation needed to transform. I reached for that small speck.
“Jillian . . . Lia, do you remember Ja—Eros? My little brother cares for you. He would miss you if you did not return.” My hand paused over the speck. The voice sounded different. There was change. This creation could change but not transform? This was . . . emotion. The creation did not want the brother to care. Why would the creation have this . . . jealousy?
“No! Do not stop. Keep moving toward my voice. I . . . I, too, want you to come back, Lia.” His fingers tightened around my neck. “I do not want this attraction, but I will no longer deny it. My people need me. Now more than ever they need a strong leader. Not someone who is so distracted. You shatter my concentration and occupy my thoughts when I need to be focused on my duties. You fight me over even the smallest of things. Yet I like that you do not bow to my every whim. Come back. Come fight with me again, beautiful Lia.”
My hand wrapped around the creation and a tumble of emotions filled me. They spread like a ravenous cancer—joy, frustration, arousal, resentment. My grip tightened around the creation. How dare it force these emotions upon me! I do not transform. It must be destroyed!
“Come back to me, Lia,” whispered across my lips. Warmth spread through me as his lips breathed new emotion into me. My hand bent on destroying the creation stilled as other sensations came to me. Cold air against my skin. The grass beneath my bare legs. Chaos’s hard body cradling me.
I released the spark of creation view of Chaos and focused on the flesh-and-blood man. My lips clung to his as the kiss deepened. My hands delved into his silky hair, tugging him closer. He grasped me tight then swept the sides of my breasts before sliding around to my back. His palms flattened against my spine to pull me closer and molten lava poured down my back. The tide of pain crashed over me until I threw back my head and screamed.
My hoarse throat cut off mid-scream as I bolted upright in bed. Breath sawing from my lungs, I untangled myself from the blanket and stumbled to the bathroom. Leaning over the bathroom sink, I splashed water onto my face. My pale, wide-eyed reflection stared back at me in the mirror.
I caught sight of something stuck in my hair. Plucking a leaf from the tangle of curls, I twirled it between my fingers. How—? My grimy feet brushed across the cold floor, scattering dirt over the tiles. A large grass stain smeared the hip of my sleep shirt. Terrified of what I might find, I turned my back to the mirror and slowly lifted my shirt.
Oh, god. Oh, my god.
My whole back was an angry red and dotted with blisters that seemed to form a kind of star shape.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. There has to be a good reason for this.
A knock sounded at the bedroom door, forcing me to get my hyperventilation under control. Molly called out, sounding worried. Rushing to the door, I silently turned the lock. It took me a couple of tries to get my voice to rise above a strained whisper. How long had I been screaming?
“I’m all right, Molly. Just a bad dream.” I rested my forehead against the door.
“Wow, that must have been some dream. You want to talk about it?”
“I just want to go back to bed. Thanks, though.”
She left a couple of minutes later, and I breathed a sigh of relief. What would I have told her? Oh, it was one of those dreams where you get possessed by a statue with a god complex. You know, the ones where it’s so real that you wake up with dirt on your feet and leaves in your hair as if you were really there. Yeah, she would probably lau
gh her ass off—or have me committed.
I was way too wired to sleep, so I took a quick shower and got dressed. I paced the room trying to puzzle through the craziness of everything that had happened since I came to this island. Molly had told me a bit about the Paldimori, but what were they really about? Why did they need to stay hidden? I could understand not wanting to be inundated by scientists and historians clamoring to make a name for themselves, but weren’t they risking that each time they brought outside people here for the Games? It was incredible that no one had sold the story of their time here and turned it into a movie. The Games seemed almost vitally important to them as a people. Was there something they gained from the Games that made it worth the risk?
Ugh, this was getting me nowhere.
There was someone who would have the answers. Sure, it was an excuse, but I would take it. There was an almost frantic need to find him that had been clawing at me since I woke up. That dream was still bothering me. As crazy as it sounded, if even a portion of it had been real—and I’d brought back evidence that something had happened—he had been there. The common denominator in all my crazy dreams lately had been him. I needed answers, and he was going to give them to me.
Silently, I crept from my bedroom to the elevator. Then stood there looking at the long line of buttons. His rooms were higher up, but which floor was it? Choosing a floor at random, I impatiently waited for the elevator to ascend. As soon as the doors opened, I knew it was the wrong floor. But it also felt as if this was exactly where I needed to be. Chaos could wait.
The smell was the first thing I noticed. A comforting scent that reminded me of my father’s study, that combination of metallic mustiness with hints of vanilla. In awe, I turned in a circle to take in the books that covered three stories from floor to ceiling. A giant tree stood in the center. Its gnarled branches spread throughout the room in every direction. The elevator I had stepped from was set inside the wide trunk. Dark green vines dropped from the branches and dangled down to the moss-covered ground. Hanging from the vines were dozens of what looked like giant purple bean pods.
Paldimori Gods Rising Box Set Page 14