Immortal Dreams

by Abbie Zanders

  “Did you have a good time?” he asked dutifully, but she knew he didn’t really want to hear the answer. He was still sulking that she had gone in the first place. He asked because it was expected, no more genuine than the obligatory “how are you?” that hollowly followed a “hi” or a “hello.”

  “It was a business trip,” she said quietly, her voice already losing some of the inflections it had acquired. “Lots of meetings.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  She shrugged. It had been anything but boring. Invigorating, eye-opening, wonderful, fun. Never boring. Cal wouldn’t understand that, though.

  “You obviously managed to find some time for yourself.” Cal’s even, almost monotone voice was laced with just a hint of something foreign. Resentment, maybe?

  Ellie self-consciously touched her hair. “I went to a spa.”

  “A spa, huh?” he grunted, placing his hand on his lower back and twisting, grimacing slightly. “Must be nice.”

  Definitely resentment, or as close to it as Cal got. He was, by nature, a relatively unemotional man. Ellie told herself that was a good thing. She never worried that Cal would lose his temper or grow violent. Passion was vastly overrated, anyway.

  She forced a smile. “It was.”

  “How much did that set me back?” he asked, as if he was the one bringing home the paycheck.

  “It was a gift from the company. A bonus.”

  Cal grunted. “A check would have been more practical.”

  They stood there awkwardly for a few minutes. After being apart for a while, they should have something to say to each other, but Cal wouldn’t want to hear about her trip. He would get quiet and sulky if she told him about how beautiful the island was, or the villa, or how nice and friendly the people were. She thought briefly about suggesting they go there together someday, but he would balk at the idea, at the expense. He was content right where he was, preferring to do his sightseeing in front of the television.

  Hating the silence, Ellie bit the bullet and asked the question she knew he was waiting for. “How did your follow-up with Dr. Anderson go?”

  “As expected.” He shrugged with an exhale. Yes, she had been right. Cal was sulking.

  “Did he say anything about how soon you might be able to start doing things again?” she asked carefully.

  A brief flicker of irritation crossed over his features. He was a reasonably good-looking man, Ellie thought. He kept himself in decent shape and still had all his hair. But in his eyes, Ellie would never see the devilish gleam she sometimes saw in Nikolaos Deimos’s eyes. Nor would she see that incredibly sexy half-smirk that dared any woman to tame the wildness that simmered just beneath the surface of that polished, perfect exterior.

  “Back injuries are tricky, Ellie,” Cal was saying. “I have to be careful. Overdoing it now could set me back months.”

  Ellie was too weary for her natural, brain-to-mouth filter to engage before the next words spilled out. “Is that what Dr. Anderson said?”

  When Cal shot her an annoyed glance, she knew the doctor hadn’t. Nevertheless, Cal always liked to err on the side of caution. After all, doctors had thousands of patients under their care and couldn’t be expected to research each case thoroughly. Cal spent untold hours on the internet, learning everything he could, though he was very diligent about getting up and changing positions often while he did so.

  With a well-concealed sigh, Ellie grabbed her suitcase and rolled it to the stairs where she hefted it up with one hand and carried it upstairs. Cal trailed along behind a few minutes later, turning off the lights and double-checking the doors and windows on his way. They didn’t live in a high-crime area, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Cal was extremely sensible that way.

  “Cal?” Ellie asked later when they were both in bed. The familiar scents of minty toothpaste, deodorant, and soap drifted over to her. They were so unlike the rich, spicy scents she had become accustomed to.

  She was on her side facing away from him. Cal was on his back, the orthopedic support pillow positioned beneath him.

  “What?”

  “Do you think we could, um, maybe make love tonight?” Ellie bit her lip, afraid to roll over and meet his eyes. “It’s been a long time, and I’ve missed you.”

  Cal’s subsequent silence was painful, but expected. She had never actually been bold enough to initiate sex before.

  After several interminably long seconds, he exhaled heavily. “El, you know what the doctor said about that.”

  Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears not to spill over her pillow. It took a couple heartbeats before she could answer him without her voice catching. “Yeah, I know.”

  “For crying out loud, Ellie, it’s not like I chose this, you know.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Cal.”

  The saddest part of all was, she really was sorry. It was she who had changed, not Cal. They hadn’t made love in the months since his accident, and before that, it had never been impulsive or without preparation and clear intent. Their intimacy, like everything else in their marriage, was an expected duty. Mow the lawn. Pay the bills. Have occasional sex. Passion and desire never entered it.

  Ellie’s heart ached, though it shouldn’t have. This was her life. She was Ellie Cavanaugh, dutiful wife, daughter, sister, and employee.

  Her reality was a two-bedroom, single family home in the long shadow of the big city, not a palatial home carved into the rocks in the shadow of Mount Olympus or along the shores of Crete. The expensive clothes, private jets, and gourmet cuisine weren’t a part of her life. Those things belonged to others, the ones far above her in power, wealth, and social standing. She had been offered a rare glimpse into their world, and that was all.

  Now it was over.

  She wouldn’t regret her time away. Ten days in Greece, paid for by her company, had been a once in a lifetime opportunity. She would have been a fool to pass it up.

  She did regret how she had momentarily forgotten who and what she was. That she had allowed herself to be seduced—figuratively, not literally—by those among whom she could never truly belong.

  One thing she had been right about, though, was that her inner self could never survive in this reality. Raven Elena had risen too close to the surface, and it was she who now felt the loss so acutely. Inside the deepest recesses of her mind and heart, Raven Elena cried in torment, then locked herself away.

  This time, forever.

  Chapter 10

  Nik’s smile faded the moment he stepped into the office. Ellie’s hair was once again pulled back severely into that gods-awful bun behind her head, the kind better suited to old crones than beautiful, vibrant women. Her glasses were perched on that pert little nose, her gods-gifted eyes once again concealed behind muddy brown lenses. The ill-fitting, clearance-rack clothes did nothing for what he now knew were generous, lovely curves.

  What really hit him was the complete and utter lack of expression on her face. He had become so accustomed to her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, and the musical sound of her laugh that seeing her emotionless, unreadable mask made his chest ache.

  “Ellie?”

  When she turned toward him, he wanted to roar out in rage and frustration. His Raven was gone, and Mrs. Cavanaugh was back.

  “Mr. Deimos, sir?”

  He leaned against her desk, searching her face for what he knew he would never again find. “What happened?” he asked softly.

  She cast her eyes downward, reminding him of a dog who had been beaten. Yet there were no physical bruises or marks that he could sense. If he had, he would have said to hell with all the rules and provided her husband with a personal escort into Tartarus.

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  Seconds stretched into minutes, the silence of the sound-proofed suite broken only by the soft hum of her computer.

  “So, we’re back to this again, are we?”

  She hesitated, then said very quietly, “Yes, sir.”
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br />   He wanted to howl in frustration. To lift his head and call his power to him, obliterating everything within a ten-mile radius. To do something, anything to break through that thick shell she had encased herself in once again, locking away that beautiful, warm, witty, passionate woman in a cell so impenetrable that even his Ares-born rage might not be able to crack it.

  Instead, he turned on his heel and went into his office, slamming the door behind him in the process.

  He looked at the steaming cup of coffee on his desk, at the tray of fresh fruit and pastries. Still standing by the door, he waved his hand and it all flew against the window. The mug shattered into a thousand shards. Hazlenut-coconut coffee seeped into the thick pile. Colorful fruit, now puree, slowly dripped down the tinted glass.

  Nik took several deep breaths to calm himself. He never should have brought Ellie back here. While they were in Greece, he should have called upon his aunts and asked for their help. There was no messing with free will, not even one of the Fates would do that, but Lachesis could influence a person’s destiny, and it would only take a quick snip of Atropos’ scissors to take away Ellie’s only possible reason for returning—her worthless excuse for a husband.

  However, he hadn’t. He had naively believed Ellie was coming into her own. That the magic of Hellas would be enough to crack that damnable façade and allow her to grow into the extraordinary creature he now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she could be.

  Restless after dropping Ellie off the night before, Nik had taken it upon himself to do some research. Perhaps if he understood more about the situation and the people involved, he could deal more effectively with them.

  What he had found reinforced what he had already suspected.

  Calvin Theodore Cavanaugh did not deserve a woman like Raven Elena.

  Though he had never actually met him, Nik hated the man with a passion strong enough to make the moisture in his office evaporate into steam. Nik would have no problem giving the moronic mortal a swift shove into the afterlife; indeed, his world would be markedly better if he did.

  However, he couldn’t do that to Ellie. He wouldn’t. For whatever reason, she had chosen to bind herself to the man. A poor decision on her part, he thought, but she hadn’t believed she was worthy of more. It was so ironic that she, marked by the gods as a worthy mate even before birth and with a soul that might even be older than his, could possibly think that. Then again, their very history was rife with irony. One had only to look at the Oracles to know that.

  If only he had met her earlier, things would have been vastly different. But they weren’t, and he would have to work with what he had. The Fates had already defined her path, and it would be revealed when appropriate and not a minute before. Since his path clearly intersected with hers, not even his status as a favorite nephew would sway them into sharing their grand plans.

  Of course, he could just kill Cal Cavanaugh himself and be done with it, but there were always consequences for such actions. Knowing how his people frowned upon taking matters into their own hands in an attempt to control their own destiny, it would probably be Ellie that ultimately suffered, not him. He was immortal. She wasn’t. Besides, they already knew hurting her would be a more effective punishment than anything they could do to him directly.

  It was maddening. Hours stretched into days. Days turned into weeks. Weeks became months. Nik tried repeatedly to reach inside the perfectly poised, competent PA to find some hint of the confident, passionate woman he knew hid in there, the one whose eyes sparkled and widened in wonder, who laughed and smiled and lived, to no avail.

  The walls she had surrounded herself with were even thicker than they had been before. Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of longing on her features, or feel the ripples of despair when she inadvertently let her guard down, but she was incredibly strong-willed.

  Others tried, too. As more of his friends and family came for meetings, presentations, and planning strategies, they would attempt to elicit a smile, a chuckle, or try to coax her to speak of her time in Greece. While she was always polite, their efforts had proven fruitless, as well.

  “She is meant to be one of us,” his sister Harmonia murmured one day, drawn forth from her private retreat high in the peaks of the Adirondacks by her brother’s inner torment. Harmonia was the goddess of harmony, attuned to the universal love that linked all beings and made life possible.

  “Yes,” he sighed. “I believe she is my intended mate.” It was the only thing that made sense to him. In all his many years, he had never once met a female who had affected him as she had, and she had repeatedly proven herself to be the only woman capable of putting up with him no matter what he did.

  And along the way, he realized, he had fallen in love with her.

  Harmonia’s eyes glistened brightly. “Yet you do not claim her?”

  “No. I cannot. She has bound herself to a mortal. To a man who sees not the gift he has been given.”

  His sister closed her eyes and concentrated on Ellie, who was sitting quietly at her desk. When she opened them again, they held a reflection of the grief he felt in his heart.

  “Her soul cries for yours, yet she feels she has no other option. Obeisance, honor, and fidelity are huge parts of who she is. Her very nature will not allow her to break her vow.”

  “I feared as much,” he said on an exhale.

  “What will you do, Deimos?”

  “I will wait for her,” he said quietly. “Until her mortal bonds are no more.”

  After six months of watching her suffer alone and in silence, Nik realized he couldn’t do it any longer. He couldn’t bear it, not when every fiber of his being wanted only to make her happy. Even worse, he suspected his very presence was making things just as difficult for her.

  * * *

  Ellie watched the latest in a series of executives exit her boss’s private office. Over the past week, VPs from their company locations all over the world had paraded past her desk. Most of them offered a coolly polite greeting and eyed her curiously. Otherwise, they said little to her.

  One of them, however, now paused beside her until she lifted her gaze and gave him her full attention. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared into her eyes as if he was trying to see into her thoughts. Then he turned toward her boss’s office and nodded.

  Ellie looked over her shoulder to find Nikolaos Deimos standing there, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

  “Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he said finally, his tone oddly flat, “this is Jason Andonios. Jason, Mrs. Raven Elena Cavanaugh.”

  Jason Andonios inclined his head slightly.

  In classic Ellie fashion, she allowed none of the absolute confusion she felt show on her features, and responded to the man’s nod with one of her own. “Sir.”

  “Is she always so ... controlled?” Jason asked with the hint of a curve to his lips.

  “Yes,” Nikolaos replied flatly.

  “Good. We will work well together, then.”

  Just that quickly, Jason Andonios turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, leaving Ellie with the distinct feeling she had just missed something important.

  Nikolaos had been close-mouthed about the meetings he had been having all week, which she found rather strange. As his PA, she was usually privy to everything he did. But ever since they had returned from Greece, he had been growing increasingly remote, making arrangements and setting up meetings without her involvement.

  She got that he didn’t understand. She saw the questions, and yes, even the hurt in his eyes when she had gone back to being his cool, emotionless PA.

  She had since reversed her position on her decision to accompany him to Greece. She should have refused, come up with some excuse, instead of using her job as an excuse to do something she had always wanted to do. Now she knew that achieving her dreams might have been possible if she had only had the patience and courage to pursue them.

  But she hadn’t. Ellie had taken the safe path, th
e one without risk. And now, the bleak reality of her life and the choices she had made were more painful than ever.

  Ellie had no choice; it was self-preservation at its most basic level. The woman she had temporarily become during those magical ten days in Greece would die a slow and painful death here. Locking her away, sending her to sleep, was the only way she could survive.

  “Mr. Deimos, sir?” she asked, the unspoken question obvious.

  He looked at her for a long minute, his jaw clenching and unclenching several times, before he spoke. “Mr. Andonios will be assuming my position when I return to Greece permanently next month. You will be his personal assistant.” Without another word, Nikolaos went back into his office and shut the door.

  Ellie was floored. Devastated. Feeling as if she couldn’t breathe, she grabbed her purse and headed straight for the ladies’ room.

  Surely, he didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that.

  He wasn’t transferring to another office. She would have known. She would have seen the paperwork. There had to be paperwork. There was always paperwork.

  As she pressed her palms against the cold, marbled vanity, she remembered that several of the other personal assistants had stopped by with sealed confidential envelopes for Nik, and Nik alone. She even remembered a few brief looks of sympathy they had cast her way.

  It all became clear. Nik was having someone else handle the transfer.

  Because he hadn’t wanted her to know.

  Ellie would not allow herself to cry, yet she had never felt more like doing so. Outside, she remained cool, professional, and unaffected. Inside, Raven Elena was screaming, clawing in outrage and disbelief and rage, begging to be released.

  Nikolaos didn’t come out of his office for the rest of the day. By five o’clock, Ellie gathered up enough courage to knock on his door.

  “Yes, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” he answered from within, sounding weary.

  She wanted to pound on the door and insist he let her in. She wanted to look him in the eye and demand he tell her why he was doing this. But mostly, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg him to take her with him.