Season's Change: Summer: A Goddess Legacy Companion Novel (Goddess Legacy 1.5) (16 page)

He shivered again and put one of his hands in my hair, holding my head to his ear. He moaned and shifted his weight, breaking the water around us.

"Yeah," he said, sounding strangled.

The ear. Definitely the ear. I giggled, and my hot breath against his skin was too much for him to bear. He started kissing my neck, and my playfulness vanished.

"Do I still taste like lotion?" I panted.

"No," he murmured as he kissed up my neck and to my ear. "You still taste like heaven," he breathed into my ear before kissing me there.

It felt so good that I wanted his lips back on mine. I weaved my fingers in his hair and pulled his face over, so I could kiss him again. He was more than willing.

It seemed like my life was getting better and better. I knew I had problems dealing with the news of my mother at first, but now, I was getting used to it. Honestly, I didn't care about what was going to happen to me at eighteen.

I felt like Don was my life, and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of it with him. No matter how short, or different, that life might be.

T
he remainder
of July went by way too fast. Whether we were going on dates or hanging out at one of our houses, Don and I spent every free moment we had together. And as summer progressed, the days just kept getting hotter and hotter, lack of rain causing burn bans all over the state.

I was also dreaming every night. My dreams were always variations of the same nightmares. I either saw the tornado or knew it was coming, but I was never scared of it; the little girl in my dreams was always scared enough for the both of us. Either I saw the snakes or the three snake holes. Every now and then, I'd dream of the bright vivid sky with the confetti of lightning bolts falling like rain.

Working became annoying because that was just less time I'd get to spend with Don. But I needed the money, so I went, grudgingly. Ms. Gorge stopped using excuses to keep Chrys from the store when I was there. Either she had accepted our friendship, or she was picking her battles more wisely. I figured it was the latter.

Chrys and I talked all the time at work, but he properly kept his feelings in check. If his mom wasn't around, Tracy was, so we always had an audience. As time went on, however, I was beginning to feel guilty about keeping my friendship with Chrys a secret from Don. I felt like I needed to tell him everything I knew. Not only did I want to be honest with him, but I wanted him to know about me. I knew he was only human and wouldn't understand this mythical life I was part of, but I wanted to be with him for the rest of his life, so I needed him to know . . . to understand.

I decided to tell him the night before he left to go to his dad's for the weekend, and we were alone at his mom's having dinner. If I told him now, that'd give him the weekend to deal, and I could get this out before I lost my nerve. If he got mad at me for getting

information from Chrys and keeping it from him, no one would be around to hear him yelling.

We ate out on one of his porches. It was hot, but breezy. Throughout the evening, I didn't talk much. I was going over my speech about Chrys and my mom and my dreams, trying to decide how best to start. I knew he wouldn't like any of this, and I hated thinking that he may be leaving the next day upset with me. By the time we finished eating, I couldn't stop obsessing about what I was going to say to him.

I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed Don clearing the table. I stayed outside on the porch while he put the dishes in the kitchen. When he returned, he took the seat right next to me, brushed his hand across my forehead, and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly.

I wasn't ready for this! How in the world was I going to get this all out without him getting mad? I didn't want him to be upset with me, even though he had every right to be. Everything had been so perfect, and I was going to ruin it.

I shook my head and my eyes moistened. I couldn't look at him. He saw the expression on my face and became alarmed. "Please, Season. Tell me what's wrong."

He stroked my face between his hands and gently turned my head toward him. I looked at him, briefly, and then shut my eyes, so he couldn't see them. Tears fell down my cheeks.

"Is this about me leaving? Don't worry. Please don't worry. My dad's not going to change my mind about school. You know I'm just going down there to help him unpack."

He'd jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I understood why. The last time he went to see his dad, I was upset then, too.

I shook my head without opening my eyes. "It's not that," I said, my voice thick with sadness.

I heard Don's breath catch, and he dropped his hands. I opened my eyes at the sudden change in his demeanor. He seemed as if he were bracing himself for an impact, but his face appeared
pained
.

I started crying and threw my hands up to cover my face. "I need . . . to talk to you . . . about something, and I—I don't know
how
to do it," I said through sobs.

He sat there quietly while I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. He wasn't talking or trying to console me, but I could clearly hear his fast breathing.

I finally dropped my hands and looked at him. His mouth was open, eyes wide, face gravely pale, his body still braced for the impact.

"What?" he asked, barely a whisper.

"Please, please . . . don't be mad at me," I begged, shaking my head, watching his

eyes.

He just sat there, his expression unchanged. "I've been talking to Chrys . . . about my mom."

Don's brow furrowed briefly, then his whole body relaxed and hunched over. He

slowly put his hands on my wrists, moving his hands up my arms as if he were struggling to climb a mountain. He reached the tops of my shoulders, put his arms loosely around my neck, and leaned his head on my shoulder. It felt like he could barely hold himself up.

"Oh," he breathed into my neck.

That wasn't quite the response I was planning on. I sat there for a minute, waiting for Don's jagged breathing to return to normal.

It didn't. But he found his strength again, and his loose arms tightened around me. One hand slid to my back to press me to him while the other twisted into my hair, clutching my head.

I put my arms around him, but I wasn't sure what was going on.

"Um, this wasn't a reaction I considered. I thought you were going to be furious with me."

"I just need a minute."

He was still obviously disturbed, but at least he was seeking solace in me, rather than screaming at me.

"I thought you were breaking up with me," he whispered into my ear. My body tensed up, and I grabbed him tighter. "
No
. Never."

I felt him nod his head; he couldn't talk.

We held each other for a long while. Then he lifted his head and kissed me. This kiss felt urgent, and because I was already so emotional, more tears spilled over. I was upset for needlessly causing him this pain.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Shhh." Don shook his head and crushed his lips to mine again.

When we finished kissing, we held each other for several more minutes before he finally pulled away and stared at me. His eyes were a little red, like he'd been fighting tears. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching my wet, swollen eyes.

"So you talked to Chrys about your mom?" Great. He felt better, but I still felt horrible. "Yes." I looked down.

"You can tell me," he said sincerely. "I won't get mad."

At least he wouldn't yell at me, not after thinking he was losing me. "Do you remember talking about the whole Greek Mythology thing?"

"Yes, Chrys told you something about descending from the mythical gods." "Right. Well, he thinks I'm descended from them, too."

Don's lips pursed. He nodded, but he didn't say anything.

"We talked a lot about his family and mine. He explained to me how the godly lineages work, and had some ideas about mine. He didn't want to talk to me about his theories, but he did mention a goddess named Demeter after noting the similarity of Mom's name. I did some research on Greek Mythology and looked her up specifically. She's like Mother Nature, I guess, and there were stories about how she created and watched over the seasons."

Don sighed and shook his head.

"Besides the similarity with my first name, I also found out that Zeus was born in Crete, which is my last name, so I researched the offspring that Zeus and Demeter created. There was one named Persephone. Demeter hid her from several gods who wanted her, but then she was abducted by Hades and taken to the underworld. I confronted Chrys about what I'd learned, and he finally told me his theories."

Don's expression hardened, but he stayed calm. "What did he say?"

"Either Demeter created Dem who created me, or the original Demeter is my mother. He thinks I'm either actually Persephone or a likeness of her."

"How is that even possible?"

I explained to him how gods descend and create new gods, the importance of new gods with pure abilities, and everything I learned about gods and Greek Mythology, but he still looked perplexed. And a little irritated.

"What aren't you telling me?" "Just don't get mad, please."

Don looked at me calmly. "Season, I won't get mad at you, I promise."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Chrys said the night Melissa told me about my mom, she set all this into motion. That was the same night Chrys found out about a prophecy, and it's the same night you showed up at my birthday party."

"Me?" Don looked confused.

"Chrys said the three of us are bonded together through a prophecy. The prophecy was that
I
would end up with Chrys as long as
you
were alive. He thinks that's why you finally asked me out after being friends all these years . . . because Melissa triggered it the night of my birthday party."

"That's absurd! Asking you out had nothing to do with a prophecy. He probably just likes you and wants to be with you."

"He
does
like me and already feels attached to me. That's why he's told me all this. He said he wasn't supposed to, and he's fought with his mom over it. But he couldn't deny me anything, so he gave me what I wanted," I whispered.

"I—I don't know what to say." He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands on his head.

"I asked Chrys what his part was in this. He wasn't sure, but he thinks he was created out of the likeness of one of the gods that originally pursued Persephone before she was abducted. He's that god's attempt at a real chance with her . . . with me."

Don shook his head. He probably couldn't trust himself to open his mouth without yelling.

"Chrys said he thinks you're the link in the prophecy, since whether you live or die will determine if he and I will be together. His mom doesn't like me, so Chrys thinks she may come after you. Killing you would keep me from being with him. Plus it would destroy me emotionally before she could destroy me physically. He wanted me to warn you . . . somehow."

"Do you believe any of this?"

"I believe parts of it. I think Chrys is trying to help me. He's the only one giving me any answers. When I asked Melissa about this, she didn't deny any of it. In fact, Demeter also had priestesses who were titled 'Melissa'. I came right out and asked her if that's what she was." I looked at Don. "You even mentioned it was odd that she didn't go out with my mom the night of her supposed death if they were such great friends."

"What did Melissa say?" he asked cautiously.

"She didn't confirm or deny anything. She tried to get me to tell her everything I knew because she was worried that someone may be tampering with my change. When she refused to tell me what she knew, I refused to tell her what I knew, so we haven't talked about it since."

"So what parts do you believe, specifically?"

"I think I am like Persephone. I think my mom left me here in Melissa's care to keep Hades, or his likeness, from coming after me, so I could have a better destiny than Persephone did. I think my dreams are trying to warn me or help me; I'm not sure which one yet. I think Ms. Gorge is going to try to kill me, and I think Chrys is in love with me," I whispered.

Don's eyes turned sad. "How do you feel about Chrys?"

"I think he's nice, and I consider him a friend." I looked down at the table. "I feel like I can talk to him without being judged, and I feel like I need to protect him from people who'd want to hurt him for being open with me." I looked back at Don, and he seemed confused. "I don't feel about him the way he feels about me. He knows how I feel about you, and it hurts him. But he knows I want to be with you, so he's okay with just being friends."

"It doesn't work that way, Season," Don said gently. "If he feels only half as strongly as I do for you, I know he wouldn't stop until he found a way into your heart. I know this because that's what I'd do. That's what any man in that position would do."

"I told him if he couldn't keep his feelings in line, then we couldn't even be friends. He couldn't stand the thought of not being friends, so he agreed. I think it was hard for him at first, but since I've been back from Florida, he's been doing pretty well. I think, for him, the prophecy doesn't necessarily mean
now
. I think he believes we'll be together someday, and until then he's okay staying friends."

"What do you think about the prophecy?"

"I don't know what to think. I can understand if his family was responsible for your death, how I would despise him and not want to be his friend at all, much less anything more. But I don't understand how I could not be with you if you were alive." I looked down at my hands on the table. "I already feel like we were meant to be together. Forever."

Don lifted up my head to meet his gaze and stroked my cheek. "I feel that way, too. And I felt that way long before the night of your birthday party."

I smiled at him, but it wasn't a happy one. "I don't understand how everything else can make so much sense, but I can't accept what he said about the prophecy. I mean, I know you care about me, and I know Chrys does, too. So I can see how Chrys thinks we're all bonded. He feels bonded to me, and I feel bonded to you—"

"We are bonded to each other," Don corrected. "Chrys isn't part of that." "I know. But he's still my friend."

Don took my hands into his and glanced down at them. "I don't want you to be friends with him."

"Why?"

"Season, I don't trust him. I know you think he's helping you with your mom, and he might be. But his intentions are not appropriate. Whether or not he's telling you the truth, he's telling you this to gain your trust. Once he has that, there's no telling what he would do. He could turn on you and help his mother, and you wouldn't see it coming. Or—" Don paused— "he could use that trust to get into your heart. I'll be in college while he's there with you every day at school."

"I wouldn't let that happen, and I don't think he'd purposely try to take me from you. He knows that would hurt me, and he doesn't want to do that. Besides, why would he want me to warn you about his mother?"