Blessed (9 page)

Wanting to break the charged silence that surrounded them, she doodled on her notepad and let out a silent sigh of relief when he returned to his seat. Things were getting way too intense between them and she wasn’t sure how to process all of this. He was her professor, but he was also her mentor and she really should be paying attention to what he was trying to teach her rather than figuring out if she could seduce him. Plus, if the talking owl showed up again she wanted to at least have some clue as to what was going on.

Gathering her wits, she took a deep breath and tried to ignore how hot he was. “So, how come these different gods and goddesses aren't performing miracles left and right to convert more followers? I don't know about you, but if a god gave me a winning lottery ticket, I'd be more likely to worship them.”

“Again, such blasphemy.” His full lips curved into a smile that took the sting out of his words.

She stuck her tongue out. “Yeah, yeah. Spank me, I'm a naughty girl.” Her eyes grew wide, and she paled realizing what she had said and to whom she’d said it.

He raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh at the mortified look on her face. “Yes, well, I don't think they allow corporal punishment in schools anymore, and I think you're too old to be tossed over my knee.” His hands flexed on the table, and he murmured something in a tone that made her clit hard…well harder.

She cleared her throat. “So I can identify other Chosen by their smells?”

“We're also marked to show who we belong to, in a way other Chosen can see. I wear this bracelet to show my loyalty to Odin and I have a tattoo bearing his mark. Some Chosen hide their status, but everyone knows I’m a high priest of Odin so there isn’t a point in hiding it.”

She reached over and turned his hand so she could look at the bracelet. The thick gold band with runes running over it wrapped around his wrist. She ran her fingers over the runes, aware of the warmth of his skin and the strength of his hand.

He made a soft, barely audible groaning sound and she quickly dropped his wrist.

“With so few Chosen, how do you know who is going to pick you? Do they all check you out like that bitchy owl today?”

“No, you have to be a blood descendent of their worshipers.”

“What if no one likes you? What happens then?”

His expression turned stony. “Then you become a Rejected. You lose the spark that makes you a Chosen and become like the rest of the humans. All knowledge of what you have learned is wiped from your mind. Oh, you can still do magic and worship, but you're no longer the god's hand on earth.”

“That would suck.”

“It does. To be Rejected is to be branded a social outcast among the Chosen. Even though you have the spark, there is something fundamentally wrong with you that would cause the gods to turn their backs on a potential new priest or priestess. I come from a long line of Chosen, called a Dynasty, and my family prides itself on not having any Rejects in our bloodline.”

She raised her eyebrows and said in a teasing voice, “Never? Not one Reject in your family tree? Come on, we all have a weird Uncle Larry or a Crazy Aunt Sue.”

He looked offended. “Never. We wouldn't taint our bloodline with a Rejection. All of my ancestors with the spark have been Chosen.”

“Well exxccuuuusee me,” she mumbled. “I guess us melting-pot babies aren't as pure.”

He looked chagrined. “No. I didn't mean it like that. You're stronger for being from a mixed background. More gods and goddesses will want you as theirs, and your chances of being Chosen are stronger for it. You'll be called by the god who is the best fit for you, and you both will be happier because of that choice.”

“How so?”

The alarm on her phone went off with a loud beep, startling both of them. “Oh shi—er, shoot. I'm going to be late for my next class if I don't bust a move out of here.”

His soft lips curved into a grin. “You can swear in front of me, Eliana. I may be your Mentor, but I'm not one of your parents.”

As she gathered her things, she shot him a pert glance. “I've been taught you don't swear in front of your elders.”

“Elders? How old do you think I am?” he growled.

“At least twenty-six, and that's old.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she shivered at the predatory nature of his stare. Stalking over to her side of the table, he leaned past her slowly and his chest brushed the backs of her hands as he picked up a book on the desk. Standing too close, he handed her the book and she was pretty sure she melted into a hormonal puddle in the chair. “Study this. It's a breakdown of the regional gods and goddesses of Europe, Asia, and the Middle East.”

“Okay,” she said in a faint voice. She was drowning in his delicious psychic scent and the electricity that moved between them. No way he was attracted to her; she must be projecting her feelings onto him like they’d learned in psych class. Yeah, the thick erection that she thought she saw in his pants must be a figment of her oversexed imagination. Holy moly that man was hung.

He took a step back and studied her. “Be careful, Eliana. Try not to go anywhere alone until I can work with you on your powers. I...I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”

“What do you mean? What could happen to me?” She stood and began to gather her things.

To her shock he cupped her face with one of her hands, looking into her eyes as he said, “There are those that would seek to harm you, to kill you before you have the chance to come into your powers. I will not let that happen. I’m not only your Mentor, but I’m also your guardian and I don’t take that responsibility lightly. Believe me, Eliana, I would rather die than let anything harm you.”

He dropped his hand before she could respond and gathered his things without looking at her. “Remember what I said, oh, and Eliana?”

“What?” Her voice came out in a breathy whisper, but she was proud that she could say anything at all.

“You really do smell delicious.”

The wicked grin he gave her went straight to her sex and as she watched his fine ass work while he walked away she really hoped Chrissy wouldn’t be in their dorm when Eliana got back so she could spend some quality time with her vibrator.

Dark clouds thickened in the sky as Eliana jogged down the dirt path, the adrenaline flowing and helping to clear her mind. She’d decided to go for a morning run in Panther Hollow after yesterday's revelations. A cool breeze blew in the clouds piling up overhead, and her jogging shorts and hoodie were enough to keep her comfortable.

Her conversation with Aiden from the day before preoccupied her mind. Well, their conversation and his insanely hot self. Most of her intellect accepted what he’d said as being true. She’d seen and experienced enough enchantments outside her hometown to make any protests against the reality of magic seem foolish. But that didn’t mean she really understood any of it and she couldn’t talk to Chrissy about it, the one person she could trust to keep her secret. For all Eliana knew the gods would know right away and smite her or something.

All of her dreams last night Aiden filled her dreams, and what fucking hot dreams they’d been. Choppy and without rhyme or reason, her fantasies had morphed from one hot scenario into another in a never-ending stream of sexual excess. She was pretty sure half the shit she’d dreamt about wasn’t even possible in the real world. When she woke this morning, her thighs had been sticky with her cream, and she’d wished like hell that Chrissy wasn't there so she could find some relief with her vibrator. At this rate she’d go through a pack of batteries a day.

An exposed branch caught her ankle while she daydreamed, and she fell to the ground, swearing as she scraped her knee and hands. With a wrinkled nose, she evaluated the damage. The knee was oozing blood, but she didn’t appear to have majorly damaged anything. She brushed the dirt off and blotted at the cut with a tissue from her pocket. As she dabbed at the blood, she noticed how quiet the woods had become.

Wind blew through the trees, moving the branches, but it made no noise. There was no sound of rushing water from the waterfall in the distance, no birds singing. She slowly stood, wincing as a cold drop of rain plinked off her cheek. Even the sound of rain hitting the branches was silent.

Pounding blood rushed in her ears, and her breath hissed out of her mouth. She licked her lips then gave an experimental whistle, the sound coming through loud and clear. Tripping and scraping her knee hadn't made her deaf. The rest of the world had lost its voice. She picked up a good-sized rock and threw it into the forest off the side of the trail, trying to fight back her growing fear when it didn’t make a sound. This was wrong, really wrong. Picking up another stone, she tried it again and still no sound even though it hit the bark of a tree right by her hard enough to leave a mark.

It was at least a five-minute run back to her car, and she suddenly wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. Her intuition flared to life, screaming at her that something bad was coming, and it was almost here. The rain began to fall harder, stinging her face with its cold little spikes. Right now the sound of the water filtering through the forest should be filling her, but the bubble of silence kept her isolate.

Trusting her instincts, she let the primitive urge for survival sweep away her rational mind. Trying to look everywhere at once, she began to jog back to her car, while wiping the rain out of her eyes and wincing at the throb from her knee.

Farther up the trail, a spot of yellow formed in the center of the path. Pouring rain turned the spot into a soft blur that for some reason wasn’t resolving itself as she got closer. The ground quickly turned into slippery mud, and she had to slow her pace to avoid falling again. The mud splattered up on her legs with each step, dotting her grey running leggings with dirt.

As she got closer it soon became apparent that the yellow spot was a person. A handsome, older man in a yellow rain slicker with a Washington Redskins patch on it. Not that he needed protection from the rain. It arched around him as if he were standing beneath a giant, invisible umbrella.

Shit.

She stumbled to a halt, and the man watched her intently.

“Hello, Eliana,” he said with a chummy grin. His hands were in his pockets, and he made no move to get any closer to her.

She considered turning around and running the other way, but she didn't think she would get far. And she didn't want to turn her back on the man. Friendly smile or not, the sight of him made her skin crawl.

“Who are you?” she tried to demand, but her voice quavered on the last word.

“Your friend sent me to get you. My name is Ron.”

She shook her head, her thoughts became muzzy, and her skull began to ache. One of her feet slid through the mud and tried to carry her toward him. She stumbled back and shook her head, trying to clear it as black dots danced around the edges of her vision.

“Your name's not Ron.” The words came out of her mouth of their own accord and she took a gasping breath of air.

The man in the yellow slicker frowned at her, his face wavering into a vicious snarl that distorted his features into a mask of hatred. She gasped and wiped the rain off her face, her mind clearing a bit and she took another deep breath, realizing that she’d been about to pass out because she’d stopped breathing. It was as if she’d suddenly forgotten that was important.

“How did you— Well, that's not important now. Let's pretend my name is Ron, shall we?” Hands shoved into his pockets, he stayed in the same spot on the trail. “You're much better trained than I expected. Who taught you to shield your mind?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, come now, Eliana. Don't play coy with me. Someone taught you to resist a suggestion spell. Don’t want to share? Fine, I’d much rather use my…other persuasive skills to get the information from you.” His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned farther. “Let's cut to the chase then, shall we?”

She lifted her chin and tried to appear like she was in control of both herself and the situation when on the inside she was shaking with fear. Her voice held only the slightest of tremors when she said, “Okay.”

“Excellent. I knew you were a smart girl. I'm here to make you an offer.”

She kept her expression blank, trying to think of a way out of this mess.

He watched her, waiting for her to speak, but she just continued to stare back at him. His patience broke first. “You still have a chance to join the winning side. You're not pledged to any Creation god yet. You can still become a part of Destruction.”

She shifted back on her heels, the panic now firmly rooted in her muscles. Fuck, fuck fuck, this must be one of the Destruction Chosen. She tried to think of something to say that would keep this guy talking, something to buy her more time to try to find a way to escape. Unfortunately she was pretty sure that even if she had the next ten thousand years she wouldn’t be able to think of a way out. Still, she had to try. “I thought you were Destruction or Creation slated from birth.”

“Of course not. The Creator”—he sneered and spat on the ground—“gave us free will. You're free to change your path if you want to. Once you become a Chosen, you're locked in, but until that point, during your time of choice you have...options. Think about it, Eliana, you could have everything you ever wanted, everything. Lucifer doesn’t believe in self-denial or all that other pious bullshit the Chosen gods are so fond of. You would have freedom, true freedom, the world would be yours for the taking. Nothing is taboo, no pleasure or desire is forbidden. Everything you ever wanted is within your reach, Eliana. All you have to do is take it.”

“No thank you.” She wished she hadn’t sounded like a scared little girl when she said that.

He threw back his head and laughed. “No thank you? Dear girl, you don't know what you're turning down. Power and riches like you’ve never dreamed.”

The ache in her mind spiked, but she continued to take deep breaths. For whatever reason breathing seemed to help her fight off whatever he was doing, but she could feel her time running out and she still couldn’t think of a way to escape. He blocked the path leading to her car, but maybe she could head off into the woods then double back. The suit and dress shoes he was wearing beneath his raincoat weren’t made for running and she was pretty sure she was in better shape than he was. With this in mind she began to try to scan the woods on either side of her, looking for the best place to run.