by Tee, Marian
And now you intend to ask me the same thing.
Yes.
My hands tighten over his, and I feel his hands tighten over my breasts in response.
Trust me...kyrios.
Another moment passes, and then the god's lips touch the top of my head.
I do.
The memory of it still makes me secretly smile as I run up the stairs.
Alone.
Because my god trusts me.
But as soon as I step inside the room, and I see the professor already standing behind his desk—-
No, no, no.
I force myself to look away and try to convince myself he's neither gorgeous nor sexy. But the moment I take my seat and turn his way, the hunger blazing blatantly in his gaze catches me unawares—-
O Bella of Forks, Mistress of Love Triangles, please oh please save me from this shit!
Chapter Nineteen
The professor is flirting.
With another girl.
Well, okay, to be fair, he's not actually flirting. But because he is letting Sullivan Wilkins lay it really thick with all the innuendos, that counts as 'almost flirting' in my book, and oh no, here we go again.
"So...Scylla and Charybdis," the professor is saying. "Any thoughts—-"
Sullivan's hand shoots up, and of course the professor gestures for her to speak.
Grrr.
"I do have one, actually."
Double grr. I've heard this girl speak outside class, and her voice, albeit slightly shrill, is normal. But once our Creaturae class starts, Sullivan would start speaking with this irritatingly breathy kind of voice that makes me want to ask if she needs a ventilator on hand.
"I've always thought divine machination is at play—-"
Whoa.
"—-every time the wind blows a person into their direction."
I sit up in shock. That's actually a really sensible conjecture, and even more surprisingly, it's also something I can wholeheartedly agree with. It almost has me thinking we at least have one thing in common...until I hear her add, "I'm like the wind, FYI."
She is?
And the professor appears just as bemused as he asks, "You are?"
"Because I blow really, really good, professor."
Everyone in our class, her friends included, looks ready to throw up, and honestly, at the rate she's going, she can just rename herself from Sullivan to Sluttivan. It's totally apt, and dammit, dammit, why am I getting so hung up about this again?
Remember your god.
Remember your master.
Remember!
I say this over and over to keep myself in check, and I can't leave the room fast enough as soon as the class ends. I don't want to give myself a chance to have even the briefest eye contact with the professor. This has to be karma at work, the Crones' way of punishing me for always rolling my eyes every time I catch my parents watching any of the Twilight movies in our living room. It annoyed my parents to death every time I ridiculed Bella for her indecisiveness, but now that I'm in her shoes?
Forgive me, O Lucky One Who Married Edward Cullen.
I thought all you had to do was like someone, and all the other guys would cease to mean anything, and—-
Come with me, moraki mou.
The sudden intrusion of the god's unspoken words in my mind has me yelping in surprise, and the other kids in the hallway turn to me in surprise.
Shit.
I toss my hair over my shoulder and walk past them with my head high...even as I mentally fly off the handle. Will you please stop popping out of nowhere like that?
But the damn god acts like he doesn't even hear me, with the way he's hell-bent on dragging me to the ladies' at the end of the hallway. I'm practically running at this point...as well as giving the other students yet another reason to think there's some truth in my past as crazy mass murderer.
We finally make it to the washroom, but just as I take a deep breath to give my divine lover a piece of my mind, I find myself dragged into the first empty cubicle, the lock activated, and...oooooh.
His invisible mouth covers mine as he lifts me up against the wall, and I forget everything else as I wrap myself around him and kiss him back. His tongue possessively explores my mouth, and I can only tighten my arms around his neck as I strive to keep from making any noise.
His mouth moves down, and I can't help arching my neck as he nibbles on the sensitive skin. I wish this could last forever, but...
I gotta go, I tell him morosely in my mind. I still have classes—-
I know.
But neither of us makes a move, and I only end up biting my lip hard as I feel his mouth nuzzling the valley between my breasts.
Call me that again.
I know right away what he's asking for, and I make a face at him. No.
But this only makes the god chuckle in my mind.
Hearing you use it for the first time was the most incredible surprise, moraki mou.
I did not see it coming, but in hindsight, I realize I should have.
A scowl crinkles over my forehead. Is that some kind of dig?
If you wish me to spell it out, by all means.
What I'm saying is that you are a dirty little girl under your icy shell—-
Fire bursts in my cheeks.
And I love it.
His teeth nip my earlobe as his thought unfolds in my mind, and I buckle so hard that the wound in my stomach makes itself felt. Shit.
The god hears this, and I feel his head immediately lift.
What's wrong?
I shake my head, but because my side still stings a little, some of the pain must've made its way to my expression, and I hear the god suck his breath.
I'm sorry, moraki mou. Your injury has slipped my mind.
The god lowers me back to my feet, and I'm startled when he pulls my shirt up.
You're bleeding again.
While the fresh stain of blood marking my bandage comes as no surprise, what does makes my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline is the chilling note of anger I sense in the god's voice.
Are you okay?
I had hoped I could control myself.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
I meant to let Hades eventually take care of your attacker.
But having seen this...
The god slowly runs his fingers over my middle.
What the fuck?
The bandages have completely disappeared, and I'm left staring at the unmarred skin of my stomach. It's like I've never been stabbed at all—-
Your attacker shall rot in Tartarus for hurting you.
The greatest sacrifice of the divine during the war was their decision to empty themselves of their healing energies. It was thanks to them the ravaged fields of the earth were restored and water once again covered the depths of oceans and seas. But in exchange for this, the gods had paid the heavy price of losing their power to heal even their own wounds. Ageless they might remain, but unkillable they no longer were, and that's a Post-3rd fact I never thought to question...until now.
Gods were supposed to have lost their ability to heal.
Almost all gods did.
But not you?
You already know the answer to this.
The way he's being so deliberately obtuse and evasive makes me want to step on his divine foot...and knee him in his godly balls at the same time.
Ask me the question you truly want to ask.
Oh, so that's why he's making this harder than it should be. He's assumed the situation has made me believe he's able to retain his powers to heal...by not joining the other gods when they risked their divine necks to save humanity. It's a plausible explanation, but...I'm not buying it.
Why can't you just tell me the truth—-
I have.
No, you haven't—-
Only at that time, you did not truly understand what it meant.
The god's voice is grim, and I'm about to ask him to stop talking in riddles
when I hear the second warning bell chime.
Shit.
I reach blindly in front of me until my fingers come into contact with hard skin.
Gotcha.
I wrap my arms around his neck to give my invisible god a quick hug, and my lips twitch when I feel him jerk in palpable surprise.
We obviously need to have a long, LONG talk about all the other things you're keeping from me, I warn him. But in the meantime, I have to get to my next class—-
I'm about to step away when the god yanks me back, and his lips cover mine in a hard and deep kiss that has my body instantly tingling and aching with need.
I will never let anyone hurt you again, little bird.
And it will not only be me who shall keep you safe.
From now on, there will be no shortage of people coming to your protection.
The words are a little too cryptic for me, and the terrifying calmness of his tone considerably worrying, but because I'm already running late for my next class, I can only nod and hurriedly say goodbye in my mind before dashing out.
We'll talk later, okay?
Hello?
The silence from the other end drags on as I work my way up two more flights of stairs, but I'm not sure if it's deliberate or not. Note to self: Visit the library and ask Ginny for an idiot's guide to divine telepathy.
Thoughts of him continue to nag at me, and I start gnawing on my lip as I find myself dissecting his words from earlier. It's almost as if the god has already set things in motion, but even if I did...do I really have any reason to worry about it? The god has only virtually sworn to punish my attacker for hurting me, and whatever steps he's taken...it can only be for the better.
Right?
Something about the whole thing still bothers me, but I make an effort to push all divine thoughts aside as I finally make it to the rooftop. Scientia classes are usually nothing special, but Rosethorne being Rosethorne, theirs happen to be an over-the-top glass dome that also doubles as a state-of-the-art planetarium.
A lot of our school's mean girls are also in this class, and they usually enjoy making this big bullying fuss every time I have to walk past them. Most times, they'll stare, sneer, and laugh like I'm a living joke. Other times, when they're feeling a little extra, they'll start chanting 'un-luscious' and get the whole class laughing behind my back. It's a Rosethorne thing apparently, a term used to describe all the girls who have tried (and supposedly failed) at snagging the professor.
Now, however...
Huh.
The hate is definitely still there, but none of them cares to meet my eyes for some reason.
Whatever.
Our pipe-smoking professor has just walked in, and I hurry to my seat as fast as I can. Although Professor Hondros looks more like a kind and gentle Santa in tweed, he's anything but, and there's nothing he hates more than seeing students walking around in his class with no valid reason.
Curriculae these days no longer include old-school fields like biology, chemistry, or physics. It just didn't make sense to keep them when most of their principles no longer universally apply, if not ceasing to exist completely. I mean, take gravity for instance. Pre-3rd humans used to classify it as a key element in aerodynamics...until, of course, the day the war happened, and they saw gods flying all the way up to the earth's exosphere...sans wings.
Although it took several years of heated debates and symposiums, Post-3rd educators eventually agreed to create the high school catchall subject we now call Scientia.
On paper, it's described as a course of study that comprehensively encompasses quantifiable elements, objects, and processes with divine aspects. But if you want the CliffsNotes version, you just need to employ a two-rule litmus test. Does it involve the gods? Can you use a formula to explain it?
If you answer 'yes' to both questions, then congratulations: you've just stumbled upon your first foray into the ever-shifting world of Scientia, and—-holy Greek shit, did I just hear the professor say what I thought he said?
Professor Hondros is normally the assign-em-and-leave-them type, but he's obviously in the mood for change since he's just asked us to find a lab partner each...which is not good at all. New Halyna is a lone she-wolf, and playing nice is no longer in the cards. Maybe I can just—-
"Sup, Mariposa. Let's be partners?"
A guy slides into the seat in front of me, and I recognize him right away. "Thanks, but no thanks." Cad is one of Rosethorne's most popular and longed-for Year 12 boys, and some of the girls even have printed photos of the lacrosse athlete taped to their locker doors. Him spending even just five seconds in my company can easily translate to fifty more girls adding me to their hate lists, and—-why is he filling out the sign-up form with both our names?
"I just said we can't be partners," I protest.
"Yes, we can," he counters, and my jaw drops when he just ups and leaves to submit the sign-up form to the professor. Cad is all smiles when he saunters back, but I only scowl back in return.
"Come on, give me a chance. I'm on your side, remember?"
He's on my what?
I gape at him from across the lab table we're now officially sharing for the duration of the semester. We've never talked before this, so what's there for me to remember?
Cad starts to frown as the silence between us lengthens. "You really don't know?"
"Are you high?" I ask finally. It's the only reason I can think of that would explain him suddenly acting like we're bosom buddies.
Cad's frown gradually gives way to a look of glee. "Hot damn." He starts shaking his head as if he's just discovered the password to the Olympians' treasure room. "I can't believe it—-" He momentarily stops speaking when Professor Hondros calls for everyone's attention, but as soon as the professor's done relaying the rest of his instructions for our seatwork, Cad immediately turns my way and slowly uncurls his fingers.
Hot damn indeed.
I grab his hand, intending to furiously rub my hand over the mark, but the moment my fingers come into contact with the shimmering outline on his palm, a jolt of energy zaps through me, and Cad and I jerk apart as we quickly let go of each other's hands.
It's real then, I realize in surprise.
The insignia on Cad's palm is an intricate rose-colored border surrounding a four-headed creature, and even someone like me doesn’t have any trouble recognizing it. The shiny, shimmery thing that nearly electrocuted my senses is the mark of the Ancient Order of Sub Rosa, a fabled secret society that most people scorn to be as false and fanciful as the supposedly underwater kingdom of Atlantis.
There's plenty of fascinating stuff about the order actually, but...
"What does that have to do with me?"
"That—-" Cad shakes his marked hand for emphasis. "—-is how we all found out about you."
I only stare at him, even more convinced that he's under the influence of something.
Cad releases an exasperated sound. "This mark is a direct connection between us and our god."
I start in my seat. God? What god? Surely he can't be talking about my god...or can he?
"We'll feel it tingle when we're about to receive a message, and the god's message earlier was pretty straightforward. Just your regular caveman beating his chest to let us know you're his woman, ergo the woman we're all supposed to worship and—-" Cad breaks off mid-speech with a frown. "Hey, are you okay?"
Nope.
"You look like you're about to throw up," Cad says nervously.
Because that's exactly what I'm feeling.
I can't believe my god also happens to be Cad's god...as well as everyone else's in their damn order.
I've always had this idea that my god is the solitary type, but I obviously can't be more wrong about it, and now that the shock is starting to wear off—-
Aha!
Our last conversation replays in my mind, and the things that used to confuse me suddenly start making sense. When the god mentioned about having other people around...he was
obviously talking about the members of his order. Members who are immediately recognizable because of...wait a minute.
Cad jerks in his seat when my gaze suddenly flies back in his direction.
"You mentioned earlier that my - I mean, the god contacted you through your mark."
Cad's gaze turns wary. "Yeah."
"What about me then? You say you were told I'm..."
"Our god's woman," Cad supplies helpfully.
"Uh..." I quickly cover my cheeks in case they start heating up. "Yes, that. How am I going to get messages when I don't have my own mark—-"
Cad releases a sound that appears to be a marriage between stunned laughter and incredulous choking. "You're joking, aren't you?"
I shake my head.
"But...your mark is right there!" Cad looks pointedly at my neck as he speaks, and I open my mouth, intending to tell him he's crazy, except...
I suddenly remember the first time the god started kissing my neck, and how the skin under his lips seemed to burst into flames.
But more than that, I now also distinctly remember...the fact that it's been ages since I last looked at my reflection.
"Do you have a mirror?" I ask him impulsively.
"Do I look like I'd carry a mirror with me?"
"You strike me as the vain, narcissistic type, so...do you have one or not?"
Cad mutters something under his breath, but before I can ask him to grow a pair and tell it to me straight, I see him unzipping his backpack, and he actually has a mirror?
"Not a word," Cad warns.
Is he kidding? He keeps a mirror in his backpack! Of course I have to say more than a word, and—-
"Aaaah!"
A little shriek escapes me as Cad suddenly turns the mirror my way, and I find myself abruptly confronted with two things:
My face, which remains annoyingly nice as ever—-
(yuck!)
And secondly, there's the side of my neck, which just as Cad says...bears the same damn mark he has on his palm.
Chapter Twenty
So...secret societies. It's another one of those things we humans didn't see coming until it was too late.
Once the dust after the war settled, two kinds of secret societies eventually came into being. The gross one was basically a front for a sex cult, with orgies taking place in honor of lustful deities. Man themselves have founded these so-called societies, and the police, with the backing of virgin goddesses like Diana and Athena, have started cracking down on those that have started incorporating human trafficking in their worship.
