The Virgin Goddess and the Alpha

by Rita Stradling

  He leaned in. “Next time, just tap my shoulder.”

  “It wasn’t working. You’d left me. She’s not the Nemean Lion—I’m sure of it, and you would be too if you only calmed down and smelled her.”

  He leaned in even further, his forehead pressing against mine for a second. It was a gesture that felt too intimate for how little we knew each other, and yet it felt right.

  Defying all logic or sense, I had the strangest urge to go to my toes and kiss his soft mouth again. Not only was it the worst possible time, but I'd also promised myself that I’d never be so weak again. I made myself break away. This man had some sort of strange power over me, and I had to shake it.

  As my nose healed, the tangy scent of blood overwhelmed my senses, along with the dusty clay smell of the vase smashed at my feet.

  Stepping past Jackson, I found the woman had moved to prostrate herself on the floor. Soft whimpering sobs emitted from her as her body shook slowly. “My goddess, I beg your forgiveness. I did not know you stood there. If I had, I would have let the werewolf kill me rather than throw the vase. I do not deserve to worship at your feet—”

  “Stop, Christina, I hold no ill will toward you. I chose to let your vase hit me. Please stand.”

  She didn’t do it right away, needing to grab for her heavy marble table, before fighting her way onto quaking legs. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflecting the light from the open front door.

  The room we stood in was large for an entrance hall, with a domed roof and pillars lining throughout the space. The house was rather typical of the wealthy from when Greece was at its height of power, but the villa’s style had gone out of fashion at the time I had gone into seclusion.

  The smaller room opened up into a much larger space where a low pool sat centrally between lines of thick columns. “This place feels very familiar,” I whispered.

  “It’s a recreation of a temple—a replica from Pompeii.”

  “Ah, and you’re its priestess?” I asked.

  She sobbed harder. “That was the idea—I’m so sorry.” Her head fell into her hands. “I’ve wanted to meet you my whole life, and now you will curse my name.” Her sobs dissolved into loud, wet sniffles. “Ah! This is the worst day of my life!” She pulled at her hair like she wanted to yank it out.

  “Calm yourself, Oracle.” I reached over to Jackson who, mollified, watched the oracle with a suspicious expression. “He will not hurt you. He just wants to ask you questions. But first, we will give you a chance to compose yourself.”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She didn’t look fine; she looked like she was moments from collapsing.

  “I should like some water and a place to sit; I’d hope you’d partake of both as well.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed. “Can I—get some clothes on, too?”

  I glanced down at her robe, confused.

  “First, I want to get something cleared up. You don’t remember me, Christina?” Jackson growled.

  Her brow furrowed. “Well—I know who you are, of course.” She wiped furiously at her face. “We’ve never met if that’s what you mean.”

  “We met yesterday morning.” He pointed to the marble floor as if to say that they met right there yesterday morning.

  She only shook her head, her brow furrowing further. “No, I’ve been gone for two days—I have fifty people who could confirm that.” It sounded as if she didn’t truly mean people in a human sense.

  Jackson’s expression only darkened, but he agreed to let her go to change. She led us to a great pantheon shaped room and bid us sit on couches, which my mind had supplied a definition for. Then she dashed away with a promise to return in minutes.

  Jackson sat right beside me.

  “You’re right,” he said. Throwing an arm over the edge of the chair and behind my shoulders, he leaned in. “She doesn’t smell the same as she did yesterday,” he said in a low voice.

  I leaned closer to him as well, telling myself firmly that it was because I didn’t want our conversation echoing around the cavernous space and chance anyone overhearing. “You’re dealing with a shapeshifter; things won’t be what they seem. I’m just having a hard time working out her motivations.”

  “Yeah, me too. Why would she send me into your forest? You think she sent me in to die so that she’d have an easier time getting access to the rest of my pack?”

  “That’s possible.” Even to my own ears, I didn’t sound like I believed what I was saying. I’d originally believed that the oracle had sent Jackson in because my family had wanted to tempt me out of my solitude.

  The idea had been so alluring to believe, that my family had cared enough to send me a task they’d known I’d relish. But now I was sure it wasn’t the case. Whatever her motivations, the Nemean Lion had not sent Jackson to me to better my existence.

  I looked off through a wall of glass toward a palatial stone porch with widely spaced freestanding Corinthian columns. A fountain sat centrally with a statuesque depiction of my twin and I. Hounds bayed at my feet while my brother and I poured a great vase that spilled water down into a wide pool.

  “I forgot that you have a twin, too,” Jackson said, obviously looking where I was. “Do you see him much?”

  “Not as much as I should like.” The words sent pain searing through me. I had been so isolated for so long, isolated from anyone that didn’t show me deference, I’d had no idea how lonely I was until this moment, when I didn’t feel lonely at all. Truth be told, I had felt lonely long before I’d even left the world of men.

  One of Jackson’s fingers brushed ever so gently against my shoulder, and instead of leaning away from the touch, as I knew I should, I leaned into it.

  His fingers moved, massaging in slow circles. “Can this lion read the future as an oracle can?”

  “I don’t think so; I had nothing to do with killing it last time. There’s always the possibility that she can—many monsters have that ability. I’ve never heard it of her, though.”

  “You weren’t the one who killed one last time?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Ah.” He leaned his head back against the couch. “The only thing that makes sense to me is that she wanted to get me out of the way.”

  I nodded, but the explanation didn’t sit right with me. If she had wanted to just get Jackson out of the way, wouldn’t she have made a move on his people while he was in my land?

  Our conversation ended as Christina joined us minutes later. She had little information to impart to us. She’d gone to Ovid’s Nightmare, a Greek monster and immortal bar run by the god Hypnos, to perform Necromancy. The process had knocked her out cold, and she’d taken her payment of five dreams of her choice back-to-back in one of their back rooms. She wasn’t proud of any of it, but any number of monsters who’d gone in and out of the bar could confirm her presence there.

  She didn’t suggest that I go, as the moment any creature in there got wind that a god or goddess from the main pantheon was on their way in, the crowd would slither, scurry, or fly back into the shadows. Jackson couldn’t go as the monster at the door would likely consider him human and keep him in a prison of his fears for as long as the Oneiroi saw fit.

  “Convenient,” Jackson said. “How do we confirm that you were there then and not colluding with the creature that was impersonating you?”

  Her gaze broke away from where it had locked on my face, and she scowled over at Jackson before her expression quickly pacified to calm solemnity. She crossed her legs, sending the gauzy material of her dress fluttering down around her. Her dress was very like my chiton as it was in a classic Greek cut, but much more richly adorned. Around a gown that glimmered like Caris’ hair hung yards of an emerald-colored transparent material that trailed behind the oracle’s every movement.

  “Are you loyal to my family, Christina?”

  “Yes, Goddess!” She turned her attention back to me, her eyes imploring me to believe her. “I�
��ll do anything to prove my loyalty to you. I’m not proud of my weakness for dreams.” She wiped under her eye. “I worship you—you especially.”

  “These monsters you deal with, who do they serve, gods or themselves?”

  “All of the monsters now serve gods—at least in LA.” Her hands folded in her lap. “I meant to ask, where do you plan to stay during your hunt, my goddess? Obviously, the werewolf pack house is nowhere near adequate to house you. And it would be my most ardent pleasure to offer you my home for the duration of your hunt—”

  Jackson’s hand closed around my shoulder, and he squeezed me to his side.

  I didn’t expect the motion, and I made a small gasp of surprise. Finding myself pressed into Jackson’s side, I couldn’t decide on whether to glare or laugh at him. I settled somewhere between the two.

  “As I remember it, you welcomed her into your house by breaking her nose,” Jackson said.

  “I can speak for myself, Jackson Hunter.”

  “Yeah. And I’m not deciding for you, just bringing up a point.”

  Again Jackson was trying to protect me from some threat only he saw. It was as ridiculous as it was unnecessary. I’d only questioned the oracle’s loyalty for Jackson’s sake as she was an agent of my family’s. She may have partaken in trading her services for dreams, but I at no time truly considered that she’d aid any monster that wasn’t doing the bidding of the main pantheon. And though it was possible that Jackson’s pack was hunted on an order given out by one of my family members, I sincerely doubted it. The actions of the lion so far had seemed to be entirely self-motivated.

  “I was aiming for you.” Christina’s expression turned cold, and her gaze moved back to Jackson. “What, are you going to take her to the set of ‘my pack life’? Maybe she could do a cameo for you. Do you even know who you’re sitting next to? And, seriously, hands off. You do not deserve to touch her.”

  “I think that’s for her to decide,” Jackson replied coolly.

  “I’m an oracle, asshole. I looked into your future when I was upstairs. Are you kidding me?” She laughed, derisively. “You think she’s you’re mate? You have to be joking. You are one particle of dust in the wind to her. She’s a goddess. You’ll never deserve to love her—you don’t deserve to lick her boots.”

  “And I suppose you do?” His thumb made a slow circle on my shoulder, which drew Christina’s attention back to the spot, and her heavily lined eyelids narrowed into a glare.

  “You stop touching her or I’ll make you stop touching her.”

  I raised a hand and demanded, “You’ll both stop this foolishness. You can both love me if you so wish. Anyone is allowed to love me, and as long as they treat women, men, and animals with love and respect, I will return the sentiment. I’m here for answers, not to hear you two abuse each other.”

  Cristina sat up and leaned in. “With all due respect, my goddess, I feel you really should stay here with me and away from this guy. He’s bad news for you.” She threw out an accusatory finger at Jackson, though her dark eyes stayed resolutely on mine. “This werewolf believes you’re his mate. You might not know what that means, but it’s a sexual thing—and it’s serious. He’s going to seduce you. I saw it in your future. He’s going to take your virginity, and you’ll connect with his mind, his emotions—until he dies.”

  Behind me, Jackson’s hand fell away. “Then you saw the future wrong.” He leaned past me. “That’s not what’s happening here. I find it pretty convenient that instead of proving your innocence, you turn the blame on me and try to isolate Artemis from my pack and me. What the hell are you playing at?”

  I stood, slowly. “Perhaps, sibyl, because I do not rule with fear, you mistake me for a fool.”

  “I–I–of course not, Goddess.” She again fell to her knees, prostrating herself before me in her finery. “I just thought that—you would want to know the future that I saw, and I thought—”

  “You thought I wanted you to tell me what I should do?”

  She glanced up. “No,” she nearly whined the words. “I wanted to protect you.”

  “Many women believe that since I am a virgin, I am unwise to the ways of the world and need to be protected. They believe that they need to not only protect me, but to usurp control over my own choices. I may be a virgin, but I did not ask for your guidance where Jackson was concerned, and therefore, I did not want it. I also did not ask you to look into my future, and if I had, I would have asked you to look into the future of the hunt, not into my future with a man. That is not your business.” Looking back to Jackson, who held an expression I could only call smug, I said, “We will find nothing more of use on our hunt here.”

  “I did not mean to insult you, Goddess,” Christina begged with her head pressed to the floor. “When—when I can muster the energy for another prophecy, I’ll look into the future of the hunt, too.”

  “Thank you and please stand, I will bear you no ill will as long as you never make the same mistake twice. If you can also make inquiries on who may have betrayed that you planned to be for days on end in Hypnos’s bar, I would appreciate the knowledge. Jackson holds a scrying mirror, and you can contact him through that.”

  Christina looked up at Jackson, her brow furrowing. “You can scry?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I have no idea what that means.”

  I looked to his pants where he had pocketed the mirror. My stomach dropped as I realized that perhaps I had made another mistake, like with the ‘car.’ For just a moment, I considered admitting he had something to contact other people in his pocket, but I had no idea what it was if not a scrying mirror, but instead I said, “We must go.” I headed for the door.

  “But how will I contact you?” Christina asked as she rushed after us.

  Jackson, who in three strides was by my side, shot back, “Do you have a phone, or are you too good for that, too?”

  “Of course, I have a phone,” she mumbled.

  A blush crept over my cheeks as the definition of a phone flooded my mind. Obviously, I had again made a mistake; I only hoped that neither of them caught it.

  After they exchanged ‘phone numbers,’ Cristina bowed deeply to me and offered her invitation to have full reign of her home again, to which I declined.

  To Jackson, she simply mumbled, “Do you plan to pay for the damages?”

  “Sure,” he said as his hand went to the small of my back.

  She’d looked almost like she’d wanted to cry before excusing herself to go back into the house.

  “Wait a minute,” Jackson said as I climbed into my side of his vehicle. He pulled out what I now knew was a phone. It buzzed in his hand. “Luca,” he answered, before shutting the door.

  Through the window, I watched as his brow furrowed. His expression darkened, and he turned to walk down the road. When he returned a few minutes later, the graveness of his expression had not lessened.

  “Is there news?” I asked as he climbed in beside me.

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, it’s unrelated—pack business.” He turned the key, and his vehicle rumbled to life beneath us.

  We’d taken the way back to Jackson’s much slower this time, both of us keeping our silence. It was less jarring seeing the city now, the strangeness of the lights and modern buildings were already growing familiar. Though, I was not sure if I would ever get accustomed to the sight of a small dog dressed as a human.

  Jackson’s glare fixed on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if he wanted to strangle it.

  “Is what the oracle said still bothering you?” I asked.

  He looked over, considering. “Not if you didn’t believe her. You know that what that woman was saying was bullshit, right?”

  “Which part?” I asked.

  He glanced over, gray eyes stormier than ever. “I’m not planning to seduce you.”

  “She didn’t say you were planning on it. She said she saw it in our future.” I lifted my shoulders. “Even if I—”
I shook my head, not even willing to finish the thought in my head. “It can never happen.”

  “And I would never try to push you into it. I know what no means.” A muscle clenched in his jaw as if the oracle’s words were again circulating in his mind, upsetting him anew.

  “Do you truly think I’m your mate, Jackson Hunter?”

  He didn’t answer for a minute, before he finally glanced over and said, “My wolf does. From the moment I woke with you straddling my chest, he’s been whispering it into my mind. It sounds ridiculous—I know. But ever since the beginning, he’s been trying to get me to protect you, to be near you.” He blew out a breath. “It’s probably why I touch you more than I should. I’ll be more conscious of that.”

  “Except for when you grabbed me from flying off that cliff and restrained me outside your house, you have never touched me without my permission. I could have punished you for that touch by breaking your arm, and I chose to forgive it. If you crossed a line with me, believe me, Jackson—you would know.”

  He looked genuinely confused. “Are you saying that I should keep touching you?”

  I realized I was, but there was no way I would admit that out loud. Instead, I said, “Are we heading back to your house or to the site where your people are watching for the lion?”

  “I thought home, just to check in, but we can head over to the site if you’d prefer.” He moved his truck over, perhaps to turn around.

  “Your house is fine,” I said hastily. In truth, I had no desire to return to that place. It had a strange feel to it. Disconcerting sounds had filled my mind. It had been very like the voices of my animals, yet different. The closer we had moved to it, the louder the sounds grew. It had been more than the sound; something in me felt the fundamental wrongness of the sound. I’d felt an uncontrollable urge to move far from the group of buildings, so much so I’d had to fist my hands at my side to stop myself from grabbing the wheel. My best estimation was that some element of this new technological world adversely affected my magic. From how Jackson’s expression had not changed, I knew it was something solely to do with my abilities. If I needed to get closer to those sounds, I would, but not unless it was necessary.