Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series) Read online

  “Excuse me, I have to take this. It’s my office.”

  “Oh yes, your office.” Cassie felt the familiar frustration rise inside. Big emergency. Maybe another debutant had a pimple. Practicing dermatology mattered to her mother, not that she didn’t love Cassie, but her mom just couldn’t focus on more than one thing at a time. For now, medicine won out.

  While her mother finished the call, Cassie mused over her options. Play the part of the dutiful daughter and put up with her parents interference, or what? She pushed a lone blueberry around her bowl with her spoon. The last orb stubbornly avoided direction, running ahead and then escaping. Like me. That’s what her parents saw in her, a young woman in need of shepherding into an appropriate life. Cassie set down the spoon and glared at the berry. Fine. She might live at home while attending school, but that’s as far as she’d go. No setting her up with the “right” men.

  “Good morning, princess.” Her dad had called her princess for as long as she could remember but, since her disturbing dream at Delphi, the endearment prickled her skin. It was only a dream. Get over it.

  “Morning.” Cassie forced her mouth into a weak smile.

  Her dad took a seat beside her at the gleaming cherry-wood table, poured cream into his coffee and stirred. That glazed look covered his eyes, the one that meant trouble he couldn’t discuss. “What?” he murmured, and stirred, the spoon clinking against bone china.

  “Dad.” Cassie touched his hand, hoping to bring him back from some dark precipice shadowed in his hazel eyes. Things must be rough at the Pentagon. “Well, this should make you happy, I’m living here while getting my masters.”

  He shifted his gaze, landing on her face and smiled. “I’m glad. We haven’t seen you all summer and I’ve missed you.”

  “You won’t see me much. I’ll be busy with school and you’re schedule is crazy.”

  “Being secretary of state is demanding, but I’ll make time.”

  She saw truth shining in his eyes and it warmed her. His brow furrowed. “And don’t forget your mother, with all the volatile news coming out of the Middle East, she was a nervous wreck while you were gone. I had to talk her out of insisting you cut your trip short.”

  Cassie glanced at her mother gesturing as she spoke on the phone, surprised she worried over much, except her patient’s acne. “Well, there’s nothing volatile about me or Georgetown. We’re as dependable as a quadratic equation.”

  He winked. “Nothing wrong with that. Keep your feet on the ground and your head on the facts and you’ll always know what course to take.” He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her dark hair, signaling the end of the discussion. “Living here is the logical answer and will move your life forward. You’ll see.”

  She tilted her head up and stared at him. He’d aged. His dark brown hair grayed to salt and pepper. Creases deepened around his mouth and etched worry into his brow. How had she missed the change in him? Her heart softened. “Okay, Dad.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Order and logic…yeah right,” Cassie muttered, and shifted her feet. The morning line at Starbucks on campus snaked around tables to the door. It was her second day and, so far, she had a handle on her program, but not her dreams. Apollo invaded her sleep, plying her with wine and poetry in an effort to seduce. Damn, he was good at it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the entire dream. It always evolved into reliving the destruction of Troy with her playing the part of the doomed prophetess. Yeah, not getting much sleep—and she felt it.

  The line inched forward, some people making multiple orders. Cassie shrugged her shoulders trying to loosen the confining charcoal suit. Mother had insisted she wear professional dress and dragged her reluctant body to stores for clothes and shoes, all tight, none her style and definitely not comfortable. Cassie preferred something loose and loaded with pockets.

  Another step toward the counter. At this rate, I’ll be twenty minutes older before I reach the front. All for coffee, sinfully addictive coffee. Another step. Her mind wandered to other sinful pleasures, dreams of the Greek god. Ugh. She had to stop it. She was hung up on a dream.

  He’d played the lyre last night and sung the verse he’d composed—Ode To Cassandra he’d called it. Heat flooded her cheeks. Where had she gotten such a lusty imagination? And why dreams of Apollo? Why not someone real, like that cute guy with the buzzcut and sexy leather jacket she’d spied every morning? She craned her neck, hoping to find him ahead in line. Her perusal met with shades of sweatshirts and jeans, but no leather capped with a chocolate buzz. She let out a breath of frustration.

  “Hello,” the voice rumbled behind and to her left.

  She turned and met dark eyes of burnt umber and a dazzling smile. Mr. Buzzcut looked even more interesting up close. “Hi. Here to get coffee?” Oh brilliant, goof. It’s Starbucks. She quelled the urge to roll her eyes.

  “What else?” A lopsided grin spread over his mouth. “And I’d hoped you’d be here.”

  “Me? Why?” She almost bit her tongue. Was she really that socially challenged?

  He chuckled, a pleasant bass note that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “I wanted a name to go with that beguiling smile.”

  “Oh.” He’s so incredibly cute. When was the last time a man noticed her over a calculation? Too long. In spite of the warmth creeping its way up her neck and into her face, she managed a smile.

  “Ah, that’s what I’m talking about.” His eyes sparkled. “Now if only I can get your name, I’ll survive my tedious day.”

  Something about him disarmed her. He was funny and she liked him. “You first. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she teased.

  “So that’s how we’re playing it. John Medina, student and lover of beauty.”

  She laughed. “Cassie Priam.”

  “No kidding? Secretary Priam’s daughter?” His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she noticed. With her dad as the secretary of state, she’d gotten a lot of that here. Cassie hoped the connection wouldn’t put John off.

  “The one and only.” She watched for the usual response, rigid stance, eyes glazed with fear, perspiration followed by a sudden recollection of a previous commitment.

  John’s gaze didn’t falter, but softened. “That’s got to be tough.”

  “I’m used to it,” she lied.

  * * *

  Cassie sipped her coffee in a daze on the way to class. John Medina was a brave man, barely flinching when he’d heard her name. But he wouldn’t be interested in her, not really. He hadn’t asked her out, and had player stamped on his compelling half grin. She must not be his type. Who was she kidding? Cassie wasn’t anyone’s type. Her long list of break-ups was proof of that. Medina probably had a string of girls, all of them beguiling in some way. What a line. At least he hadn’t made a run for it right after his order filled. He’d talked to her for another five minutes before escaping with his cup of double-shot latte. She sighed. The man had class. And such a nice smile.

  Sipping her mocha, she claimed a seat near the back amid two dozen young men with only a smattering of women sprinkled in. Many would be engineering students, some math majors, and a few had designs in scientific fields. All of them were steady, responsible people and not much fun. Like me.

  Cassie let the sweet concoction warm her tongue. The little things made life worth living and coffee was one of them. Flirting with a hunky student was another. And flirting was as daring as she’d get. Enough daydreaming.

  She set her empty paper cup near her feet and opened her laptop. When she looked up, there stood the elderly professor, tapping her fingers from behind the lectern. “It’s time to begin,” she drawled. “I’m Professor Simmons and I’ll be teaching this section of your class.”

  Her mind wandered as the slight, graying figure droned. If Cassie couldn’t date Medina, at least she could admire him from a distance at Starbucks. Maybe he’d get to know her over coffee and ask her out. Cassie sat up straight and grinned at the thought. He
was a student, that should be respectable enough for her parents. Of course, the idea was silly, but there was nothing wrong with using her imagination as long as her feet remained on the ground.

  “I forbid it.”

  “What?” She scanned down her row. All eyes were focused on Simmons. Was she hearing things? It had to be imagination combined with lack of sleep. Cassie focused on the professor and the way her ancient fingers wrapped around the top of the lectern. Nothing like John Medina’s hands. She’d noticed how he held his cup with nice capable hands, and she’d liked the look of them.

  “I have decreed, and it is so.”

  The slight accent, his rich tone of voice that held a knife’s edge, and underneath an imperious command. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. That had signaled warning since childhood, or at least, inconvenience. The last time she’d felt that tingle, she’d hiked up Mount Parnassus.

  Cassie froze in her seat. Once might be imagination, but hearing voices twice could be signs of mental instability. She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you say something?” she asked the two girls seated behind her. One continued to type on her laptop while the other stared down her nose and shook her head. Still Cassie’s neck prickled. What was it? The rumble reminded her of those wicked dreams of Apollo. A rush of heat flooded her face.

  “Cassandra,” the voice whispered into her right ear.

  “Oh no,” she murmured. The seat beside her was empty, or should be. She stared forward, afraid of what she’d see if she turned her head.

  “Look on me.”

  Heart pinging, she gathered courage and turned to face the voice and her fear. Apollo, shimmering with light from his position beside her, golden mane flowing over his brawny, nude shoulders as if blown by a breeze, his eyes blue as the Adriatic, and that smile. No man should wield such a weapon. It turned her legs to mush.

  She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. He had to be a dream or a figment of her imagination. She refused to acknowledge the Greek god. Had she fallen asleep in class? Cassie trained her attention on Simmons. I am not crazy. It’s sleep deprivation, that’s all.

  “Beloved.” Apollo, clad in a loincloth, his rippling muscles open to inspection, leaned closer.

  This delusion was insistent, but Cassie could be just as stubborn She stared forward. Ignore it and it will go away. It worked with stray dogs. She must have fallen asleep. That had to be the explanation. Wake up, Cassie.

  Apollo caressed her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “Must I convince you of my existence each time?”

  Her heart thumped and her mouth went dry. It’s not real. It’s not real. He pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot below her ear. She shivered. “Oh God,” she murmured. Heat trickled from her neck down to her belly.

  “Yes?” His sweet, moist breath warmed her cheek.

  Then it hit her. This was different than the dreams. She never smelled anything during those torrid visits as she slept, but now the scent of honey surrounded her. And their interludes always took place lounging on plush cushions under the spreading branches of an olive tree in ancient Greece.

  Never in present time.

  Her eyes widened. This was no nocturnal fantasy. And if she wasn’t losing her mind, then an actual half-naked man nibbled her neck and was doing an excellent job at seduction. She jerked back. “But you’re a myth,” she argued.

  People around her gave her odd looks, and the guy on the other side of her got up and moved. She wanted to sink into the floor. She should just leave and get some fresh air.

  “Myth has a basis in fact. Touch and prove me.”

  An interesting experiment. Cassie held her breath, reached tentative fingers and pushed at his tan chest, satin skin over sculpted muscle and warm flesh. She retracted her trembling hand.

  “I am real.” His voice had grown smoky. “But to convince you, I’ll share this prophecy: There will be an attack on the American embassy in Greece. Hostages will be taken.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she muttered “We have excellent relations with Greece.”

  Apollo’s gaze darkened to amethyst. “This is a prophecy and warning. Tell your father.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said overly loud. All eyes turned and stared at her, puzzled looks on their faces.

  “Um, sorry,” she said, and got up to leave. Her face burning. “I’ve got to go.” Cassie snatched her laptop and hurried from the room. Heart pounding, tears burning behind her eyes, she fled the room and into the hall with Apollo at her side.

  “I’m crazy. Nuts. Insane. Damn it,” she said into the air and leaned her back against the wall. “There’s no other explanation. I’ve lost it, and now I won’t have to worry about the rest of my life because I’ll be committed.”

  “Cassandra, you’re quite sane.”

  She scowled at him. “Yeah, and I should believe a guy running around in a diaper. I feel so much better.”

  “I was wrestling with Hermes.”

  “Figures.” She rolled her eyes. “Put some clothes on or, better yet, leave.”

  “Not until you promise to tell your father of the prophecy.”

  “Not a chance. Do you really think my dad would believe this tripe?” Her hands tightened around her laptop. “Stay the hell away from me and my father.” She moved to leave, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  “It’s the truth,” he growled. “You’re my Cassandra and this is your destiny. Share the prophecy. Thwart Hydra.”

  Cassie was about to stomp on Apollo’s sandaled foot when John Medina ran into her, bumping her into the wall.

  “Are you all right?” He held onto her with a firm, but gentle grip. “You look upset.”

  She was far from all right. At least Apollo had disappeared. “I’m fine. Never better.”

  “Are you sure?” Medina cocked his head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Uh, no. Nothing anyone can do.”

  “Well, if you change your mind. Here’s my number.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and slipped it into her hand. “I’ve got to get to class.” He gave a lopsided smile before striding down the hall.

  “What a great guy,” she said, and entered his number into her phone.

  “I forbid it,” the voice grumbled.

  Cassie froze. Her mouth tightened in determination. And she finished entering Medina’s number.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What the hell?” Cassie muttered as she lowered herself onto a bench outside. The snug pencil skirt tightened around her hips, adding to her discomfort. She sucked in a breath of warm September air scented with fresh-cut lawn. There were only two options—either she was mentally ill, or she was actually being visited by Apollo. Illness was easier to accept.

  But a god? How could she resolve the problem? The known factors in this equation were minimal: dreams, hallucinations and hearing voices. Cassie stood, her black pumps firmly anchored on the grass. Logic was the way to solve this. She needed a psychiatrist. Just explain everything and…

  The morning headlines appeared in her mind: “Secretary of State’s daughter held in mental hospital for observation. Delusional.”

  “Ugh.” She plopped down on the bench, the hard seat adding to her firm resolve. Some would speculate whether insanity ran in the family. She refused to taint her father’s political career. It wouldn’t do her mother’s practice any good either. The situation required more thought.

  Seeking medical help might be premature. She should try to solve this herself first. Her jaw cracked from a wide yawn. Since Greece she hadn’t enjoyed a full nights rest. Maybe all she needed was a good night’s sleep and Apollo would evaporate along with her fatigue. Sleep. That was the logical course. Cassie got to her feet. She’d take a sleep aid and that would be the end of Apollo.

  * * *

  That night Cassie took two pills and, climbed into bed, and the drag of sleep pulled her under. She stood outside. The night sky blazed with
stars like millions of lit candles afloat on a black sea. Cassie breathed in. The scent of lavender mingled with the woodsy smell of cypress and pine igniting her memory. She was dreaming, damn it.

  “Beloved.”

  She recognized the voice and her pulse raced in anticipation. Cassie turned.

  Apollo beckoned to her. His thick golden hair cast pale in the moonlight and his crimson robe tied at the waist hung wide and left his chest bare. The lunar glow accentuated every shadow, tempting her gaze to stare and making his masculine features distinct and striking. He looked more like a statue than a mere man until he moved. “Join me upon the couch.” Apollo reached out his hand, large, with tapered fingers fit for plucking the strings of his lyre or playing a woman’s heart.

  She’d visited this secluded spot of forest before in her dreams. They’d sat on cushions and kissed or walked along a path and talked. She couldn’t recall much of their conversations, but felt intimacy between them.

  He lounged upon a cushion, his smile as tempting as his touch. He may call this a couch, but it was a bed, covered in pillows and silk. This was a dream. Why not enjoy the passion real life had denied her?

  Cassie perched on the end of the bed, her hands moist and her mouth dry. She wore a filmy ivory robe that left her arms naked and plunged to her navel. Thin ribbons tied at her shoulders. The fabric barely covered her breasts and gave an illusion of being dressed, but not. She’d never have the guts to wear this outside of a dream.

  Apollo sat up and ran his fingertips along her arm raising gooseflesh and longing. How far could she take this fantasy having never experienced everything a man had to offer? She was willing to find out.

  “Lie back and close your eyes,” he whispered and pressed a wet kiss on the side of her neck.