Goddess Forsaken: A Fated Guardian Paranormal Romance (Rise of the Lost Gods Book 1)

by Nicole Hall

  “Not that I want to add to your distraction, but doesn’t that feel too easy? What about the helm we found?”

  “It’s not a perfect theory, but Calliope confirmed Apollo would be a sword guy over a helm guy.”

  “Okay, I have one more question.” He kissed her throat and trailed his lips down to the tops of her breasts, stopping at the edge of her bra. “Is that skirt from yesterday still around?”

  Lindsey giggled as he lifted her again, this time depositing her on the bed. He didn’t wait for an answer, but made quick work of the rest of their clothes. Dax teased her with his hands and his mouth, driving her need ever higher. Through it all, his touch centered her.

  They’d had weeks to learn each other, to find what brought quiet pleasure and wild hunger. Last night, they’d come together in a frenzied rush, but today was slow and reverent. Today, he made her feel loved.

  The words bubbled up from deep inside her until she caught them on her tongue. I love you. She thought it over and over again as they moved together, as she soared and sighed, as he went taut above her and dropped down to whisper her name against her ear. Lindsey pressed her lips together to keep the words inside, but her grip on his shoulder—the way she curled up against him—must have caught his notice.

  Dax shifted his weight off of her, but didn’t move away. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek and cupped her neck, holding her close.

  “Forget the skirt. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  She cringed at his description. “I’m not perfect. Your mind is clouded by good sex and fate mojo.”

  He laughed dryly and leaned away for a moment. When he rolled back, Dax pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. Lindsey snuggled closer, tucking a leg between his and laying her head on his chest.

  His voice rumbled under her cheek. “How do you know it’s not always fate? When someone becomes interested, maybe it’s because they were created for that purpose. To find each other. Complement each other. Be more together than they could be apart.”

  Lindsey didn’t have an answer for him. She didn’t care about other couples—she cared about him. If he thought of her as perfect, he’d be disillusioned that much faster.

  Lindsey dreamed she stood barefoot at the bottom of the ravine. Daylight filtered through the trees high above, and the gap between growth on the two cliffs left a strip of bright light down the middle. The sky didn’t give her any clues about the time of day, but when she tried to shade her eyes to look up, she realized she clutched the sword in one hand.

  “You think much of yourself to stand against the gods. Tell me, do you have as high of an opinion of your lover?” The androgynous voice echoed at her from the trees, but she couldn’t pinpoint a direction.

  Sword in hand, she spun in a slow circle. No signs of another person, but the world moved wrong. A slight delay between the movement and the change in scenery. Lindsey glanced down and saw herself dressed in a simple shift. Nothing she’d worn before, or would ever wear voluntarily.

  “Come. Do you have no answer for me?”

  Lindsey scowled. The voice sounded deep and high at the same time, distorted enough that she couldn’t detect any identifying information. The old-timey formal language gave her a pretty big clue though.

  “To whom am I speaking?”

  “She does have a tongue. You speak to a god.”

  Though she’d known, the answer still sent a shiver down her spine. Lindsey recognized the feel of foreign magic in her head from all her time with Calliope. She may be dreaming, but the voice was real.

  “What do you want?”

  The god tsked. “So insolent. I came to propose a simple exchange. The seal for your lover’s life.”

  Lindsey’s jaw clenched as anger and fear fought for dominance. She’d never given in to fear before, and she wouldn’t start now. Anger won. “If you had the power to take his life, you would have already. I know your weakness, and I know I’m stronger than you.”

  The sky darkened, answering her silent question about who controlled the dream. “You knew my weakness. Your fledgling fire is no match for the blaze of my magic.”

  The trees crashed together in a sudden wind that didn’t touch her. Branches tore from their trunks and flew across the ravine. Boulders heaved over the cliffs, shattering on the rocks below. Creatures born of mud and detritus rose from the creek to lumber toward her.

  Then all of a sudden, everything stopped. A laugh, creepy with the two tones, drifted to her. Lindsey focused on a leaf suspended in the air. The world had paused mid-tantrum, an effective demonstration of power.

  “You can’t hide him away forever, but you don’t have to. The seal is no use to you. Place it outside the circle, and our deal is complete. You have my word.”

  The world returned to normal. Mud people collapsed back into the ground, trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the sky became a slice of bright blue. The leaf floated down and landed on her foot. Lindsey used the tip of the sword to flip it onto the ground.

  “I’m not making a deal with you. Dax can handle himself.”

  “Your faith in him is noble, and flawed. He’s promised to protect you, yes? Is your love strong enough to do the same?”

  Dax appeared on his knees in the mud, reaching for her. Lindsey took a step toward him before she could stop herself. At her movement, a vine wrapped around his throat from behind, and his face contorted in pain as his fingers scrabbled at the thin plant in vain.

  The sword warmed in her hand as eddies of her magic coalesced around the leather, but Lindsey refused to give in to the god’s sadistic little display. She closed her eyes and told herself he wasn’t real. None of this was real. Dax whispered her name in a strangled voice, and a sharp pain in her chest nearly doubled her over.

  Lindsey reached in her mind for the foreign magic. She shoved against the jagged edges with all her might and felt a pop as she shoved the power of the god out of her head.

  14

  Dax

  He’d never get tired of waking up next to Lindsey, but her habit of stealing the covers probably wouldn’t be as cute in the winter. And he planned to have her next to him through the winter and well beyond.

  The sun had begun to peek through the window when Dax smiled ruefully and tugged on the blankets to cover both of them. Lindsey grumbled, but when he pulled her back against him, she sighed and relaxed. He wanted to enjoy the moment, but if the last few mornings since the storeroom were any indication, she’d be up and gone soon.

  The coconut scent of her hair tickled his nose, and Dax drew it in. She spent her days researching the sword, practicing magic, and training on her own—a departure from the joint workouts they’d been doing before. But the nights were his.

  In his arms, she shed her stiff, closed-off shell and turned to him with a desperation he didn’t entirely understand. Since she’d gained the ability to control her magic, she’d run hot and cold on him. At first, he attributed it to the frustration of not being immediately good at using her magic, but her behavior hadn’t changed as she’d become more skilled.

  If anything, she’d become more distant.

  Lindsey yawned and turned her head into the pillow with a mumbled good morning. “What time is it?”

  Dax chuckled. “I don’t know. Daytime? Does it matter?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “No. It just feels really late. I’d better get up.” Her body had already started to pull away, but Dax didn’t want to start this morning like the others this week.

  He caught her before she could slide out of his arms. “Stay. Talk to me. I know something’s going on, and I want to help.”

  For a split second, she stiffened, and Dax prepared to let her go if that’s what she wanted. To his relief, she rolled over instead. Her fingers danced over his cheek for a fleeting second, and his hopes soared that she’d finally tell him what the hell was bothering her.

  She smiled, but Dax knew what her real smiles looked like, and that one o
nly touched the surface. “I’m fine. Practicing with the magic is exhausting, and the sword is pissing me off. I’m sorry I’ve been cranky.”

  He nodded, disappointed that she’d deflected again. No doubt, the magic practice made her tired—she often took a nap in the afternoon if she spent the morning working with her fire—but she’d been tired before. Cranky didn’t come close to explaining the walls she’d erected between them.

  Dax wanted to push for a real answer, but he knew Lindsey wouldn’t respond well to that maneuver. She’d raise her prickly shields and do the exact opposite of his intended outcome. Maybe he needed to give a little first.

  “My grandma Elle used to say magic wrung her out because she had to expend energy twice—once to See and once to believe.”

  Lindsey’s gaze shot to his face. “How did I not know your grandma used magic?”

  “Her magic wasn’t like yours. She called it the Sight in front of the rest of my family, but they didn’t really believe her. With me, she called it intuitive magic. Something she sensed and used every day even if it was subtle and small.”

  Dax rolled onto his back, and Lindsey followed, resting her cheek on his chest. The first time in days that he’d convinced her not to rush off in the morning.

  “I wish I could have met her. She sounds like a fascinating lady.”

  He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. First, because he had his Lindsey back, at least for now. Second, because grandma Elle would have loved her. Dax could imagine the trouble the two of them would have gotten into if they’d ever had the chance to meet.

  “She was. She’s the one who gave me my nickname.”

  Lindsey sat up. “Your nickname?”

  Dax kissed her fingertips then eased her back down. “My dad is a cruel, cruel man. He had this idea in his head of what he’d name his first son, and nothing my mom could do would dissuade him. The story goes my grandma took one look at the name next to my crib and declared me Dax, after my late grandfather—the love of her life. My mom refused to call me anything else, so Dax stuck.”

  Grandma Elle had loved telling that story. Dax trailed his hand down Lindsey’s bare back and let the bittersweet memory of the last time he’d seen his grandma linger. She’d been fit and feisty up until the end, reigning over the kitchen in her little house. He’d shown up in the middle of the night, only able to get his leave request approved at the last minute, and there she’d been at the stove making gravy to go with the biscuits she’d put in the oven.

  Grandma Elle always knew.

  Lindsey shifted higher, and Dax realized his plan had sort of backfired. Yes, he’d convinced Lindsey to stay, but he’d gotten lost in his own thoughts instead of figuring out what was bothering her.

  She tilted her head and studied him. “What’s your real name?”

  “I’ll spill my secret if you spill yours. What’s really bothering you?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Dax knew he’d made a mistake. Lindsey’s eyes became wary, and her fake smile returned. He hated that fake smile.

  “I told you, but feel free to keep your secrets. It would be weird calling you by another name. You’ll always be Dax to me.”

  She shifted back, and in a desperate attempt to claw back from his latest snafu, Dax kissed her. He figured out right away the effort wouldn’t work. She responded enthusiastically enough, but then she made an excuse and left the bed. He sighed and fell back onto his pillow.

  Grandma Elle would be supremely disappointed in the way he was blowing this.

  He didn’t see her for the rest of the day, as expected. Twice Dax ventured to the front room, but both times, he only found Calliope sitting on the couch with her tail twitching. Lindsey had stepped out for a moment, according to the cat. He didn’t bother a third time.

  Around sunset, he started dinner prep, hoping she’d show up as usual. Burgers on the grill and the salad Lindsey would insist he eat. He cut vegetables and cleaned his mess, then went outside to grab the meat.

  Her reticence worried him. Their conversation that morning had been heartfelt and real, but the moment he’d probed, she’d shut down. He didn’t think her secret involved a problem with their relationship, but it could definitely be something she’d planned that would put her in danger.

  Lindsey was hands down the most stubbornly independent person he’d ever met, and if she believed she could take out a god, she’d follow through. Dax had no doubt she’d try until she dropped, and he intended to be there if that happened. He’d lost Beth because he hadn’t been there to protect her, and he wouldn’t make that error again.

  His heart skipped when he turned from the grill to see Lindsey. She leaned against the back door with her arms crossed and a half-smile on her face as she watched him.

  “Did you remember to turn off the fire?”

  Dax raised a brow as he walked toward her. “That was one time.”

  She stepped back into the house to let him pass with the plate of burgers. “It only takes one.”

  Boy, did he know that. Lindsey hovered by the back door and looked everywhere except his face. Something had happened, and she wasn’t running off on her own this time. She’d come to him.

  Dax set a burger on each prepared plate and carried them to the table. He wanted to be able to see Lindsey during this conversation. She took her seat, and he didn’t have to wait long.

  “Have you checked your messages lately?”

  “Not in the last few hours. Why?”

  She swallowed her bite then set her burger back on her plate. “Alex and Sabine are coming back early. They think in the next day or so.”

  Dax’s brows shot up. That wasn’t the type of news he was expecting. Why hadn’t Alex called him? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and groaned. When he worked, he put it in airplane mode, and he must have forgotten to flip it back while chasing after Lindsey. Two calls, a voicemail, and a text from Alex. One text from Sabine.

  He set the phone on the table and shrugged. “Okay. Did they kick us out?”

  The question was a joke. Alex would never kick him out—especially when he’d agreed to let Dax stay for the rest of the summer—but Lindsey frowned.

  “No. They insisted we stay, actually, but I got a lead on a job in Dallas.”

  “You managed that in four hours?”

  Lindsey didn’t answer him, and her uncharacteristic nervousness suddenly made sense. She’d been planning this for days. Alex and Sabine returning simply gave her an excuse.

  “What about the seal? Calliope, the gods?” Dax held her gaze. If she lied to him, she’d have to do it to his face.

  She didn’t flinch away, but her tone hardened. “Turns out I’m not the heroic type. I came here to learn how to control my magic. I’ve done that. I agreed to help stop this god, but then it’s time for me to go.”

  Dax pushed his plate away, no longer hungry when his insides felt like they were twisted into knots. “What about me?”

  Her rigid jaw softened. “You’re the one thing I don’t want to leave behind.”

  The table between them pissed him off. He needed to touch her. Dax circled to crouch next to her, taking her hands in his. “Then don’t. Stay here and see it through. Stay with me.” He heard the edge of pleading in his voice, but he didn’t care.

  A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes and tore through Dax. “I can’t. I just…can’t.”

  Lindsey’s chair screeched across the floor as she got up, and her hands slid away from him. She paced to the doorway before speaking over her shoulder. “Be careful if you hang around here.”

  Dax stood—body taut with frustration and hurt but his hands relaxed at his sides. “Afraid something will happen to me?”

  “Is that so far-fetched?”

  “I thought you didn’t let fear make you run.”

  She flinched, so his barb hit its mark, but then she turned and left the room with her chin high.

  Dax imagined sweeping the remains of their half-eaten dinner onto the floor
, could almost hear the crash of the plates and cups shattering on the hardwood. The thought of explaining himself to Alex kept his rage tempered, barely.

  He finally knew part of what had been bothering Lindsey. Something had convinced her Dax was in danger because of her. Not the heroic type, his ass. She planned to throw away their relationship, the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, because she thought it would protect him.

  Instead of destroying pieces of his best friend’s home, he gently collected the remains of the meal, threw away the food, and set the dishes in the sink. Washing plates was beyond him at the moment. A large part of him wanted to follow Lindsey and shake her until she admitted the whole truth.

  Somehow in all this time, she still hadn’t decided to trust him. That cut the deepest.

  He’d heard her go up the stairs, but his parting shot had ensured she wouldn’t go to their bedroom. She’d have gone back to her original room.

  Lindsey wanted space right now, so he’d give her space. Even if it killed him.

  Dax paced the kitchen until the movement upstairs quieted to give her a chance to retrieve what she needed for the night. The repetitive motion helped him focus his thoughts past his anger at Lindsey’s fear.

  His own fear tried to surface once the fury faded. Lindsey knew her own mind. He respected the hell out of her and everything she’d accomplished. If he ran roughshod over her plans, would he be making the situation worse? Maybe.

  He rubbed the ache in his chest and thought about waking up every morning without her for the rest of his life. Watching a movie and not feeling her hair cling to his stubble when she laid her head on his shoulder. Using his towel after the hot tub without sparring with her for the privilege. Never feeling her breath catch in that quiet moment after the first rush of a kiss.

  Dax shook his head and stopped to lean on the table with both hands. He loved her, and he’d fight for the life they could have together.

  Tomorrow, the real battle began. He’d prove to her they belonged together. Starting with admitting his feelings for her. Dax ran a hand through his hair. If Lindsey needed to be in Dallas, he’d be right behind her. With that god still on the loose, he sure as hell wasn’t about to leave her unprotected and alone.