Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

A gust of wind stirred the air about them, setting his wheaten curls dancing in the wind. Her fingers were intrigued by them. She wondered what they would feel like, slipping between her fingers...

She clenched her hand, trembling where she stood. “There is nothing to forgive. It is my fault – my doing.”

He stood straight, staring at the ground between them. “Allow me to gather my weapons, mistress, so that I may carry out my duty.”

Her heart pounded on. “I will wait for you,” her voice wavered.

He ran without a backward glance, tearing into the guards’ house. He returned quickly, carrying his spear, shield and a tangle of nets.

She smiled. He would fish for the Goddess in offering.

They made their way to the shore in silence. She used the time to calm herself, a greater challenge than she expected. But the peaceful sounds of the morning helped ease her strain. Birdsong, the whistle of the wind through the olive trees and the whisper of the waves bid them good morning. As they neared the shoreline the hill dropped, falling away to soft sand and rolling white-tipped surf.

She dropped her cloak and parcel onto the beach and ran to the water’s edge. Wriggling her toes into the warm sand, she relaxed. The muted waves roared, washing against the beach to froth around her ankles.

Pleasure erased all else. She loved the sea, and the peace it afforded her.

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Ariston watched her sprint into the shallow water, her glorious hair moving with the ocean breeze, the smile on her lips pulling one from his own. He walked slowly, desperately trying to rein his wayward thoughts.

Why must this woman wreak havoc on him, when there was no hope for them? He dropped his things with hers before coming to stand at her side.

Having viewed her beauty through the veils, he explored the features of her face in the rising sun. Her skin was alabaster, without freckles or imperfections. Her eyes, he knew all too well. Her nose was slight and straight. Her cheeks were high and soft, making his hand itch to touch her.

He could do nothing but stare, memorizing her as she was.

She seemed unaware of his fascination, lost in the pleasures of the morning. Her brilliant blue gaze was trained on the sun breaking over the water, watching its gilded fingers streak across the water to reach them. She smiled and closed her eyes, tilting her face towards the sun’s light.

If there had been any hesitation about his feelings, they vanished. He’d vowed to serve as her protector, he’d promised to look upon her as a handmaid for their Goddess.

But now he loved her, as a woman.

He stared out at the sun, Apollo’s orb, grappling with this realization.

He would not deny the truth of it; he could not. Nor could he ignore the dread that filled his chest.

The Persians offered no threat, for his body was prepared for the challenge they brought with them.

But his heart… His heart offered him his most daunting battle.

He would fight against his love. He must. If he was found out, the wrath of Athena and Olympus would fall heavily upon him – and likely Medusa too.

He took a steadying breath, willing such thoughts from his mind. It would not come to that. He would make certain of it.

Two fish jumped from the water’s depths. Medusa laughed, pulling his gaze back to her.

She glanced at him, grinning. “Are you hungry, soldier?”

He nodded, rendered speechless by her beauty.

She ran back to their things, left on the edge of the rocky shore. She sat gracefully on the soft sand and waved him to her. Within her bundle she’d packed a fine breakfast for them – cheese, fruit and crusty bread that she ripped into equal portions with nimble white fingers.

He watched her fingers, her hands… He took a steadying breath.

“You should have a larger share. You need your strength more than I.” She held a larger piece of bread to him.

He took it, carefully avoiding her fingers. “I need no more than you, lady.”