Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)

Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3) Page 21

Something was wrong. Apollo knew it in the same way he knew the many languages of man, or the voices of musical instruments - innately, on the most elemental level of his being. The warm shape in his arms stirred. Automatically, he tightened his arms around her. Pamela...

Apollo's eyes shot open. What had happened last night? They were naked on his bed. Think! he commanded his addled brain. Remember! And the events of the evening rushed through his memory. He stifled a groan. He had lost all control. How? Why had he not been able to -

He knew the answer before he finished the thought. The feast had been filled with the intoxicating power of a goddess. And he knew who that particular goddess had to be. Artemis!

"Apollo!"

As if his thoughts had conjured her, the goddess's impatient whisper sizzled through the room.

He turned his head and glared.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You know dawn is close to breaking. Do you want the mortal to be trapped here?"

Shocked, Apollo sat up. That was what was amiss. As always, the God of Light had felt the coming of the blazing chariot that ushered dawn into the sky. Instinctively he had known that it was past time for Pamela to be returned to her world. Last night he had revealed too much. How would her mortal mind ever grasp what it had gleaned from their uninhibited lovemaking, as well as accept that she was trapped in Mount Olympus? He remembered the fear that had flickered through her eyes when he had revealed himself to her.

She wouldn't be able to understand it, not truly. Or if she did, he could only imagine how it would change her feelings for him. No, it was too soon. He must get her out of Olympus. By the time the portal reopened, he would have an explanation for the unusual night. He would spend more time with her and solidify her feelings for him, feelings she had only admitted under the influence of his sister's magic. He scowled at Artemis again.

"Go!" he whispered back at her. "Make sure the Great Hall is empty. I will follow with Pamela."

"Hurry..." she said as her body dissipated.

"Phoebus?" Pamela's voice was groggy. She blinked sleepily and rubbed her eyes. "Where..."

He clenched his teeth and reluctantly passed his hand over her face, instantly fogging her mind and dulling her senses.

"You must dress. We have to leave," he said, leading her gently by the hand into the adjoining room where he found their discarded clothes.

Numbly, she complied. He hated himself as he hastily tugged on his own pants while Pamela mechanically dressed herself. Her underthings, like his shirt, were totally ruined. The memory of the passion he had felt when he tore the clothes from their bodies shivered through him, causing his loins to stir. How was he going to live without her touch for five days? His will wavered. He did have a choice. He could bespell her and keep her with him until the portal opened again. He touched her face and, even with her mind shrouded by his magic, she swayed towards him. It would only be a week...

No! He shook himself. She would loathe him for doing such a thing. How could she not? He loathed himself even for the thought.

"Come, I will take you home, my sweet Pamela."

He wrapped his arms around her, and they disappeared, re-forming almost instantly beside the portal in the Great

Hall. Artemis was there, arms crossed, tapping her foot restlessly. She took in his bare-chested appearance and Pamela's zombielike expression and shook her head. The sooner they were finished with the modern world of the mortals, the better.

"Quickly, the sun is rising," Artemis said.

"I know it!" Apollo snapped. "Or now that my senses are no longer numbed by a goddess's magic, I know it."

Artemis had the good grace to look uncomfortable.

"I will take her through and then return."

The goddess sighed but didn't argue with him. Apollo put his arm around Pamela and led her through the portal.

They stepped into Vegas, and Apollo opened the door to the little closet. In the deserted hallway he straightened Pamela's clothes. He touched her face gently. Apollo felt like a thief. He'd stolen her love, and now he was skulking back before the light of day could reveal his crime. He had no choice, but still he hated himself for allowing it to happen like this.

"I love you, my sweet Pamela. Remember that, and remember to trust me. I will return to you. I will make this right." He bent to her and commanded silently, With my kiss, awaken.

He kissed her deeply, and while she blinked and her dazed expression began to clear, he backed into the closet, closed the door and returned to Olympus.

Pamela rubbed her eyes. Ugh, she felt dizzy and a little sick. How much had she had to drink at dinner? She looked around her. Where the hell was she? The plain-looking little door and the empty hallway registered in her woozy brain. Where was Phoebus? She ran her hand through her hair, and the motion of raising her arm jiggled her breasts. Jiggled her breasts? Where was her bra? A thread of panic trailed down her spine. Think! What did she remember?

Phoebus had met her at the cafe. They'd gone to dinner at a wonderful, exclusive restaurant... but her memory of the meal itself was sketchy. Weird, dreamlike flashes of hot, slick skin and the salty taste of the remnants of passion assailed her. She had a brief image of ripping clothes, and then another of Phoebus leading her from a bedroom so she could get dressed - in only some of her clothes. Her panic swelled, and her headache spiked. Breathe, she ordered herself. She was fine; she'd just had too much to drink.

But where the hell was Phoebus!

Okay, her last really clear memory was her happiness at buying the fabulous ruby slipper purse -

"Bloody buggering hell! My purse!"

She looked at the little white door. What had happened at dinner? She couldn't wrap her mind around the memory, even though she knew it was there. For some reason it hovered just beyond her reach. Had she been drugged? By Phoebus? But why would he?

To keep her fear at bay she latched onto one small bit of normalcy. She'd left her brand new four thousand dollar ruby slipper purse in the restaurant. Phoebus or no Phoebus, she was going to go back and get it.

Pamela opened the door and stepped into... A closet? In the middle of the closet was a door-sized disk that shimmered and glowed. A memory stirred. She had gone into this disk/door with Phoebus. It was the entrance to the restaurant. Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the bizarre entryway.

She felt a funny, tickly sensation like feathers brushing over her skin, and the light changed from the closet's single yellow bulb to a soft, rose-colored luminescence. But she didn't enter the fabulous restaurant she half remembered. Instead, she seemed to have stepped into the middle of a magnificent ballroom. The impression she got was of enormous size and incredible beauty. The huge room was empty, except for two people who were shouting at each other. As she emerged from the entrance, they turned toward her. Phoebus, minus a shirt, stared at her with blank-eyed shock. His sister at first looked enraged, and then her expressed changed as -

Pain sliced through Pamela. She opened her mouth to scream, but as change rippled down her body, the scream had to echo through her mind because she had no mouth left with which to give it voice. Helplessly, she reached toward Phoebus as her body folded, then morphed into something not human. At the same instant, the pain dissipated the fog in her mind, and her memories came rushing back. Phoebus. His skin glowing with an unearthly passion. Taking her in his arms. Making her his own. He wasn't human. No human man could be made of fire. What had he done to her? What was he doing to her now? She remembered his fire licking her and stroking her and... Another scream ripped through her mind.

Apollo's back had been to the portal. He had been chastising his sister for being an interfering, meddlesome -

His barrage had been sliced in two when he felt his soul mate enter Olympus. The moment her mortal feet passed through the portal, her body began to change. Helplessly, Apollo watched as his Pamela faded, melted, and then reformed as a beautiful, fragrant jasmine flower.

"Get her back through before the sun rises!" his sister shouted. "When the portal closes, the spell will fade."

Then she would be Pamela once more. Her words worked on him like a prod. He lunged forward, feeling Artemis close behind him. Grabbing the delicate jasmine flower, he pulled it from where it had already begun embedding its roots along the marble floor. Whispering a broken apology, Apollo leapt through the portal with Pamela's changed body clasped tightly in his hands.

Artemis hesitated in front of the portal, glancing quickly over her shoulder at the floor-to-ceiling windows that showed dawn beginning to lighten the already blush-tinged sky.

"No, fool!" she yelled into the madly swirling disk. "You weren't supposed to go through with her!" The goddess leaned forward, trying to see within the glowing passageway.

From the shadows Bacchus moved swiftly on silent feet. With one decisive motion, he rammed his shoulder into the center of the Huntress's back. Artemis shrieked and fell into the disk just seconds before the portal went dark, slamming firmly shut as dawn broke over Mount Olympus.

Bacchus' laughter was filled with terrible triumph.