Immortal Dreams: A Mythological Romance

by Abbie Zanders

  Instead, she cleared her throat and said in an even tone, “I’m about to leave for the day, sir. Unless, of course, you need me for something.” That last part was an impulsive plea from deep inside, filtered by her implacable, sensible side.

  She held her breath while she waited an eternity for him to say something. Anything.

  “No, Mrs. Cavanaugh. You are free to go.”

  Free was the very last word she would use to describe how she felt at that moment.

  Chapter 11

  “I can’t believe you dragged me to this, Ellie,” Cal complained as he tugged at the tie around his neck. He looked out of place in the elegant ballroom, surrounded by wealthy, powerful men and women.

  She gave him a rare glance of irritation. “It’s my boss’s going away party and my new boss’s welcome. I had to come. You didn’t.”

  Taken aback by her uncharacteristic display of attitude, it took him a minute to respond. “The invitation was for both of us. Besides, it’s about time I met some of the people you work for, don’t you think?”

  “Mrs. Cavanaugh, so glad you could make it.” Nikolaos’s deep, golden voice poured over her. She had to close her eyes for a moment, pushing away the thought that, after tonight, she would probably never hear it again.

  “Mr. Deimos, sir,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She couldn’t help it; if she tried to speak any louder, her voice would break.

  Impeccably dressed in a black Armani suit that made his golden hair and eyes glow, Nikolaos Deimos was the picture of bronzed male perfection. It wasn’t simply his good looks that affected her, though. It was something far deeper, something powerful and primitive that called to her very soul.

  Something she had no business feeling for a man who wasn’t her husband.

  “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

  Inside, a part of her melted, remembering how he had said something similar to her their first night in Greece when she had worn that clearance-rack sundress down to the terrace. It felt like a lifetime ago. Now she was in one of the elegant sheaths he had picked out for her during their mandatory shopping trip, from the ones she had packed away in the back of her closet the day after she had come home.

  She had chosen to wear it tonight because he had said it was his favorite, that the aquamarine really brought out the uniqueness of her eyes. Perhaps it was wrong of her, but when he was gone, she wanted him to remember her in this dress.

  Ellie was vaguely aware of Cal shifting beside her.

  “Cal Cavanaugh,” he said roughly when Nik failed to acknowledge his presence.

  Nik held her gaze for a moment longer, then blinked and turned to accept the hand Cal held out to him. “Ah, yes, Mr. Cavanaugh. You are a fortunate man, indeed, to have won the hand of such a beautiful and intelligent woman.”

  Ellie shuttered her eyes and dropped her gaze.

  Cal said nothing.

  * * *

  Nik had never wanted to pummel a man more than he did in that moment. The idiot had absolutely no idea of the precious treasure he had. With a great deal of restraint, though, he forced himself to remain cool and in control.

  “Will you honor me with a dance, Mrs. Cavanaugh?”

  “Ellie doesn’t dance,” Cal answered for her.

  Ellie looked at him in surprise.

  Nik raised an eyebrow, remembering just how well she had danced on their trip. So light and graceful on her feet, so perfect in his arms.

  “Do you?” Cal asked when Ellie bit her lip and shifted her weight.

  “Yes,” she answered, almost apologetically. “I took ballet lessons for more than ten years.”

  Cal scowled.

  “Then come,” Nik said, taking her hand before he turned Cal Cavanaugh into the clueless invertebrate he was. “Please feel free to partake of the refreshments, Mr. Cavanaugh.” With that, he led Ellie out onto the floor.

  She felt so good in his arms, moving with him as if they had been dancing together forever. They didn’t speak; just danced. And in those moments, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them.

  “If I asked you to go with me,” he whispered against her ear as the song ended, “would you?”

  She looked at him then, and the pain he saw in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. She wanted to, he felt it to the depths of his immortal soul, but she wouldn’t. She would suffer her remaining days in a gray, opaque existence rather than renege on her vow. In a brilliant example of irony, it made him love her even more.

  “No.” It was a whisper, little more than a puff of breath against his neck, holding more pain and sorrow than he could bear.

  Even expecting it as he was, her response cut him to the bone.

  “Take care of yourself, Raven Elena,” he said quietly so that only she could hear. I will come for you one day, when it is time. He imprinted the last message directly into her soul, beyond conscious comprehension.

  Then he was gone, and Ellie was left standing alone.

  * * *

  Feeling self-conscious, Ellie rejoined Cal, who had found his way over to the buffet table. He seemed unaware of the curious glances people were casting his way. Of course, that might have been because of the inordinate amount of food he had managed to pile on a single plate.

  “Ellie, right?”

  Ellie turned to look at the stunningly beautiful woman who had spoken. “Yes.”

  “I’m Nik’s sister, Harmony.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Ellie said. “You came into the office a few weeks ago.”

  “Good memory.” She smiled, and her eyes, golden like her brother’s, seemed to glow with an inner light. “Nik has nothing but praise for you. He says you’ve spoiled him, and holds little hope of finding another PA as capable.” Her gaze flicked to Cal as she said this, as if she was expecting some sort of reaction from him. If she was, she was disappointed.

  “That’s very kind of you to say so,” Ellie said softly, her heart both touched that Nikolaos had said something so kind, and aching at the thought of someone else taking her place. “But I’m sure he’ll have no trouble in finding someone. I was very fortunate to work for him.”

  Harmony laughed, the sound holding both amusement and affection. “I can see why he is so fond of you. I think you might be the only person to ever utter those words.”

  Off to the right, three older women burst into cackling laughter. Ellie didn’t know who they were, but they looked vaguely familiar. One of them looked like a woman she had recently bumped carts with in the grocery store. Another, like a woman who was fond of sitting on a bench at the park where she fed the pigeons. The third bore a remarkable resemblance to a woman who had demonstrated how to spin thread from a sheep’s fleece during one of Ellie’s junior high field trips.

  “Ms. Cavanaugh.”

  Ellie turned to face the man who had appeared before her. He was extremely tall and broad. Her gaze went up ... and up ... to find him looking down at her. The chandelier behind him created a nimbus around his golden hair, giving the impression of a fiery crown of light. Like most of the men present, he was so handsome that it almost hurt to look at him.

  “Yes?”

  “A. Paul O’Malley.”

  “I’m sorry. Have we met?” The name, as well as the man, seemed vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite place him.

  He inclined his head slightly, his eyes searching. Finally, he said, “Yes, once. It is a shame that Deimos found you first. I should have liked you for myself.”

  The words struck a chord in her memory. She blinked, and in that moment, brilliant images flashed in her mind. Images of her recurring dreams, of Kalliope and the garden of the Muses, of a man who often came to visit. A man who looked very much like Mr. O’Malley.

  In her dreams, though, he hadn’t been cloaked in designer menswear, and his stylishly short golden hair hung below his shoulders in a mane of golden curls.

  “I should like that one,” the man said, speaking to Kalliope but
looking at her.

  Her heart leapt in response. Soft mewls of disappointment came from the other handmaidens gathered for Apollo’s visit.

  “She is my favorite,” Kalliope said somewhat sadly. “She will make a fine consort. Coronis,” Kalliope summoned. “Come.”

  Ellie—Coronis—obediently shuffled forward, head bowed, and dropped to her knees. She felt Kalliope’s hand settle affectionately on top of her head.

  “Apollo has selected you to accompany him back to Olympus.”

  Ellie—Coronis—began to shake uncontrollably in the god’s presence. He was so big, so powerful, and she was nothing, a mere handmaiden who spent her days transcribing epic poems.

  She remained on the ground, not filled with joy at being chosen, but dread. She liked it here; she was safe and well-cared for, provided with everything she needed. The thought of leaving terrified her.

  There was a long pause of silence before Kalliope spoke again, surprise evident in her tone. “Coronis, do you not want to go?”

  “No, Kalliope,” she breathed. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prepared for the bolt certain to incinerate her for daring to refuse the invitation of a god. “I am not worthy. I wish to remain here, with you. To continue to serve the Muses to the best of my ability.”

  Gasps of disbelief rent the silence.

  The air thickened as they awaited Apollo’s response. No one refused a god.

  “A pity,” Apollo finally said. “She may remain. I have no use for a trembling mouse.”

  Ellie—Coronis—remained on her knees, sobbing in relief after the god had gone.

  Once again, she felt Kalliope’s soft touch.

  “Coronis, you honor us,” the Muse said. “No one has ever refused a god’s request to remain with the Mousai. Apollo would have treated you well.”

  “Will I be punished?”

  “No, sweet child. Such faithfulness and loyalty will be rewarded when it is time.”

  Ellie blinked again, suddenly back in the hotel ballroom with Cal by her side. Mr. O’Malley smiled knowingly and winked, then stepped away to speak to someone else.

  Ellie didn’t speak with Nikolaos again. Several familiar faces stopped by to say hello to her, however; some of whom she had met in Greece. They were polite and friendly, but there was no mistaking the disappointment in their eyes, as if she had let them down somehow.

  Cal grew weary of Ellie speaking to people he didn’t know, tired of people who seemed to make it a point to ignore him, and managed to find his way over to the open bar. It was a relief, in a way. Having him hovering beside her, visibly sulking, embarrassed her.

  “Cal, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Ellie suggested quietly some time later.

  Her husband lifted the small glass of cloudy, blue-tinged liquid to his lips, ice cubes clinking lightly as he did. When he put the glass back down, he scowled. “No.”

  Several men surrounding Cal smirked.

  “Uh-oh. Your woman does not look happy, Cal,” one of them taunted.

  Ellie slightly narrowed her eyes at him. “Mr. Bacchalakis,” she said in a firm, even tone.

  “Mrs. Cavanaugh, how lovely to see you again. I am flattered you remember me.” He grinned wickedly, patting Cal on the back, a bit more forcefully than necessary in her opinion.

  Cal barely noticed. Remembering the effect ouzo had had on her, he probably hadn’t even felt it.

  “Yes, sir, I do.” Ellie remembered him quite clearly. At the closing of the seminar in Greece, she had seen the man toss back more alcohol than she thought physically possible and never once did he sway on his feet. Now he had a wicked gleam in his eye, and she had the distinct impression he was trying to get her husband drunk.

  While Cal enjoyed the occasional beer, he was not a seasoned drinker, and certainly not prepared for the effects of the high-quality ouzo he was tossing back. Given the ease with which he was doing so, she was quite sure it wasn’t his first.

  “Cal, I think we should leave now.”

  “Go? Why? This party is just starting to get fun.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Your husband here was just explaining to us how the Irish are known for being able to hold their drink.” He winked. “Almost as well as the Greeks.”

  It was a taunt, a challenge, offered beneath the guise of a smile and playfully mischievous eyes that dared Cal to refute the claim. And Cal was falling for it, hook, line, and sinker. Ellie had worked around these men long enough to know that, no matter what, they made sure they always won, regardless of the game. Cal, however, was completely oblivious.

  “I’m sure you are a great source of pride to your people, Mr. Bacchalakis,” she said evenly. “But I’m afraid it’s getting late and we must be going. Cal has a doctor’s appointment early in the morning.”

  Bacchalakis’s grin widened, showing perfect, gleaming white teeth. Eyes as dark as night sparkled back at her, filled with amusement.

  Beside him, Cal sighed heavily, unaware of the silent challenge.

  “She’s right. I do.”

  “Another time then,” Bacchalakis said with a sympathetic hand on Cal’s shoulder and a nod of concession to Ellie. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

  “Was that really necessary?” Cal asked grumpily as she led him toward the exit.

  “I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.”

  “At first, yeah. But you know what, Ellie? They’re all right. Not at all like that stuffed-shirt you work for. Uh, worked for.”

  Ellie clenched her teeth and reached out, steadying Cal as he stumbled on their way out to the elevator. “Cal, how much did you drink?”

  “Not much. A couple tiny glasses of that ozone stuff.”

  “You mean ouzo?”

  He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Whatever.”

  “Cal, ouzo is pretty powerful. Maybe I should drive.”

  “Jesus, Ellie. Isn’t it enough you embarrassed me in front of your bosses? You have to question my manhood, too?”

  “What?” Ellie gasped. She had never heard Cal talk like that before.

  He held out his hand. “Give me the damn keys, Ellie, and quit treating me like a child.”

  Stunned, because Cal never cursed, and against her better judgment, she did.

  “Cal, you’re driving too fast.” Ellie gripped the dashboard with one hand, the passenger door with the other as he barely negotiated a curve on the highway.

  Cal looked away from the road to glare at her. It wasn’t the first time she had said something critical about his driving since they had left the party.

  “Cal!” she screamed, her face a mask of terror as the car veered into oncoming traffic.

  When Cal hesitated, she reached over and jerked the wheel hard. They only just managed to make it back into their own lane amidst the blaring of multiple horns, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

  “Cal, please! Pull over. Let me drive.”

  Perspiration covered his face. The glare of the headlights made his skin look ghostly and pale. “You know what, Ellie? I think that ozone packed a stronger punch than I thought.”

  “Okay, Cal,” she said, trying to stem the rising panic as they weaved dangerously on and off the shoulder. She kept her words simple and soothing. “Just ease off the road here. We’ll stop and get some fresh air.”

  “Yeah, yeah, fresh air. I don’t feel so good, Ellie ...”

  Cal turned the wheel and slowed down, veering toward the wide shoulder. Ellie started to breathe a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived when she realized he wasn’t slowing down nearly enough.

  She looked over at him, saw his eyes closing even as he slumped over the wheel. The front tires left the shoulder with a solid bump. The car crashed through the minimal guardrail and down the embankment. Ellie tried to scream, but the sound was stuck in her throat ...

  Chapter 12

  Ellie had always wondered what clouds felt like. Now she knew. She was surrounded by them, buoyed by them. They
were soft and cool and fluffy, so light against her skin.

  Remarkably, she felt curiously dry. And naked.

  “Raven Elena,” a voice sounded from everywhere at once, all-encompassing and impossible to ignore. It was unlike any voice she had ever heard. It was so pure, so beautiful that she wanted to cry tears of joy simply from hearing it.

  Instinctively, she went down onto her knees and bowed her head.

  “It is time for you to choose, daughter.”

  “Choose?” she whispered.

  “Your mortal life is over, Raven Elena. You may proceed into the afterlife, where you will await rebirth, or you may remain on earth indefinitely, bound eternally to he who seeks to claim you as his soulmate.”

  “Cal?” she asked in confusion. She looked around, but saw no one else. Where was Cal?

  “No, child. Your vow to him has been fulfilled.”

  “Then who?”

  Another figure stepped through the clouds. A figure with radiant golden hair and eyes, his body framed in wings of brilliant white and edged in gold.

  “Me.”

  “Mr. Deimos?”

  As he smiled at her, she was filled with incredible warmth from the inside out while her brain tried to process what her eyes were seeing.

  “You are ... an angel?”

  “Sort of. It depends on what religion you subscribe to. To Christians, yes. But to ancient Greeks and Romans, we are considered gods. That’s with a lowercase g,” he added with a half-grin. “It all comes down to the same thing in the end. We are servants of a higher power.”

  Thunder rolled ominously in the distance, and his face grew serious. “When you make your choice, it will all become clear, but there is very little time, Raven. Atropos hesitates at Kronos’ command, but she cannot wait much longer. Will you come with me and serve beside me as my mate, Raven?”

  She bit her lip. “What about Cal?”

  Nikolaos frowned slightly. “He survived the accident, but your time as a mortal is over, Raven. You must choose. Will you trust me? Trust your heart?”