Page 13 of Guided by the Stars (Creating Destiny #1)

Nora

When Dropped into Olympus

“Adriane?” My voice is raspy, scratching against my dry throat.

I swing my hands up, wrapping them around my neck as I pray for the panic to loosen the grip it holds me by. Instead it builds, my throat constricting, blocking the air from my lungs and making it feel almost impossible to breathe.

No! I can’t lose her.

I’m drowning in the pits of despair, choking on dread as my heart drums hard against my chest. It picks up speed as unwanted memories from the past flash before my eyes. Fear is winning, holding on, squeezing my muscles tightly, and its strength is knocking me to the floor.

I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing my mind only on the darkness to help guide me. My body rocks, comforting itself, trying to regain control.

1...2…3...

I count to five and back again, tapping my fingers to match the rhythm, like the therapist assigned to me taught me. Each time, I take a deep breath in, filling my chest full of air, then slowly release it along with my fear.

I’m in control. This anxiety attack will end.

Minutes pass before the heavy pressure on my chest decreases and the hot sweat against my skin grows cold as my breath evens out. I’m on the floor, knees digging into the cream wool carpet beneath me. My arms wrap around my torso, holding on to what little dignity I might have left.

I heard them even over my yelling that kept them away. Gods, Zeus, Mortal World, Aegean Waters, it all makes no sense. Yet here I find myself, in a house they tell me is in Olympus. In a room surrounded by eerie silence, with two pairs of eyes focused in my direction.

I need to get a handle on this. Five things, that’s all I need.

I open my eyes, keeping my head steady, and peer around the room.

Straight ahead, there’s a couch. It’s an older, mid-century type with two large, beige cushions scrunched together and encased by an armrest on either side.

To its left is a wooden rocking chair with a matching pillow.

Both sit behind a dark cherry wood coffee table.

It’s the same table I ran to grab the books I threw at the assholes earlier.

A sigh leaves me and I force my head towards the left.

The guy who peeled the knife away from me leans his toned body against the doorframe, probably keeping me away from the kitchen.

He’s relaxed, with tatted arms hanging loose by his side and a small reassuring smile plastered on his annoyingly good-looking face.

I twist my head toward the freak who grabbed me.

His large powerful frame blocks what looks like the front door.

He’s a little taller than the other one, yet both are a lot taller than I am.

He stands at least a head above me, with sandy brown hair hanging in his face.

It’s shorter than the other guy’s, allowing me to see his narrowed eyes that are staring at me with such an intensity that my body trembles.

Pins and needles shoot across my skin in reaction to the big, angry beast looking right at me.

I stand, turn, and back my way towards the coffee table.

I’m smart enough to keep both guys in my line of vision.

The beast straightens himself and takes one tiny step forward, while the other tilts his head to the side, almost as if he’s inspecting me closer.

This situation is beyond belief, but could their bullshit gods story be true?

I felt the knife sink deep into his flesh.

Blood splattered out, leaving my hands stained with red specks. Yet he’s healed.

I catch my breath, refocusing myself. Panic will get me nowhere, I’ve learned that lesson.

“I’ll play along. Gods exist, and I was about to wake Zeus up. But that doesn’t tell me where A’s at,” I say, focusing my attention on the less intimidating, more tatted one.

He’s in position, his squinted eyes tracking my every move and, just like his friend, he looks ready to strike if I go too fast. Still, he doesn’t make me as nervous.

He seems softer than the hulking beast on the opposite side.

Maybe even a little younger. Kind eyes. A golden Californian tan.

He reminds me of the boys my brother used to play basketball with.

A leaner body to match the big boys on the team.

Trim and in perfect shape, at least judging by the muscle in his arms.

“Zeus would sense you. He’s not dead and waiting for your kiss to wake him up,” he chuckles to himself, but it dies down when he picks up that I’m not playing his game. “Okay, once you two separated, we—” he starts, tilting his head towards his friend. “Well, we went in to protect you.”

A manic laugh escapes me and my voice grows shrill, “I was on Earth, and you brought me to Olympus. The very place the god, who you say is after me, lives. You call this protection?” Is this some sick joke? A dream? There is no way I won’t wake up from this, laughing, with Adriane.

“I know it’s a lot,” he says with a gentle, yet smokey voice as he pushes himself off the wall, taking a few steps forward.

Despite that the words coming out of his mouth are ridiculous, I’m grateful that he at least seems sympathetic.

He’s careful, gauging my reaction as he inches closer.

“Like we said, we weren’t the only one’s following you. You’re safer here.”

“Why didn’t you help her?” I snap, jerking my head towards the beast at the door. My blood is boiling with enough voracity to rip his head off. “Where is she?” I demand with venom in my voice, imitating the asshole as he crosses his arms. Screw him and his smugness.

A warm hand lands on my shoulder. A sense of ease washes over me, softening my nerves while my skin prickles under his touch. “Baby Girl, she was taken by—”

“By another god. She was too close and we couldn’t grab her,” the Beast’s deep voice cuts him off, and my eyes grow wide as the freak lowers his arms to his side. He clenches his hands into fists. His brow creases, tightening his face, and he takes a small step forward.

“No, you stay there!” I yell. The tatted guy is smart, listening to my warning and retreating further away towards the wall. His friend though, something tells me he is made to demand others to cower. I won’t. Instead, I square my shoulders and remain standing strong, daring him to continue.

He stands, rubbing his long fingers over the short hair on his chin. The small stubble goes from one side of his tight jaw toward the other and circles around his mouth. It’s alluring, grabbing your attention and distracting you from the real threat behind his fierce eyes .

“Well,” he pauses, darting his tongue out to lick his lips, and my eyes betray me. They follow the movement like a hawk as he moistens his lips before he continues, “I had to do something.” He lifts a corner of his mouth upwards, forming it into a sinister smirk and stalks straight towards me.

I attempt to move, but it’s no use. He’s quick, invading my space.

“One little step and your world would have turned into things nightmares are made of.” His breath hits my face as his voice deepens with each word, making a shiver run down my spine.

His proximity is heating my skin, threatening me, and I keep backing up as he follows, until my lower leg collides with the coffee table, trapping me yet again.

Not happening. I reach down in a swift move, pull a mug up from the table and thrust it into the air.

Sticky yellow liquid splashes all over us and I don’t care, I’m ready to strike.

The vein in his throat pulses; anger boiling deep in those stormy blue eyes. “Be my guest woman, throw shit at me. If a knife couldn’t stop me, do you think that will?” His eyebrow lifts, almost challenging me. He’s making a huge mistake thinking I’ll back down without a fight.

I’m ready to crash the cup against his head, but the other guy’s voice brings me to a halt. “Alexius. Come on. It’s been a long day,” he urges, standing in front of the rocking chair where he had faded into the background of the room.

Alexius nods, listening to him, and takes two steps back, holding his hands up in surrender. “I kept Zeus away. So give us both a break and sit your ass down.”

He’s dead serious. Zeus, gods, all of this. Both of them are. I can’t help the desperate laugh bubbling out of me. “Alright, let’s say I believe you. Why would he want us? We’re just two girls, scraping by,” I attempt to ask with a straight face .

Tired and exhausted, I find myself actually listening to this asshole, planting myself down onto the coffee table.

“I haven’t figured it out. My senses aren’t detecting anything special about you so far.

Daemyn here assures me the two of you carry an ancient gene.

An important one. But over time, your blood has become diluted—” he pauses, looking my body up and down, and heat rushes into my cheeks under the scrutiny of his stare.

“You can’t be pure,” he finishes giving me a wink.

My mouth opens and closes a few times as I twist the mug around in my lap. I’m speechless and offended. What the hell does that mean? Not pure?

I catch Daemyn moving from the corner of my eye. He makes his way around to stand in front of me, kneeling in slow motion. “I know this is hard to believe. We won’t hurt you, and we will figure this out,” he declares, turning his head back towards Alexius, who at least nods in agreement.

I’m startled as his hand comes down over mine and the sincerity in his gaze reminds me of Adriane.

It’s in the eyes. Two mirrors into our soul.

His are golden brown and lacking any sign of deceit.

No smoke and mirrors, not even a flash of hostility.

There is a sincerity in them, easy to get lost into.

A depth so strong it’s compelling my instincts to want to trust him.

They’ve never failed me before, I hope they aren’t now.