The Goddess (2 page)

Chapter Two

The prince didn’t respond to Helene’s question about enjoying life and taking risks.
He merely raised that regal chin before walking away up the long winding path to his
villa on the cliff.

She had heard that the prince exuded charm and grace as easily as the sun gave off
light and heat. Helene agreed. Darius Vasily wore his air of entitlement as easily
as night dressed in shadows or minutes carried time. Now that she was alone again,
she could barely believe they had met, had spoken, one on one.

After cleaning up the spilled paint as best she could, she disposed of the rags. She
rinsed the brushes and her hands with turpentine. Once inside the tack room, she gathered
her belongings and put them in her bag.

From the wooden table, she scooped up her cell phone. But the prince had been clear;
he would contact the appropriate people. She only had to wait.

Still, a brief text message to Alexio wouldn’t hurt.

Prince arrived early. I’m fine. Don’t worry. Talk soon. HM

When she put down the phone, the smell of turpentine seemed to grow and press in.
She could keep an eye out for her lift while she took a quick dip.

Stripped down to her swimsuit, she sprinted over pebbled sand and splashed into the
Aegean shallows. When she was thigh deep, she plunged in. She swam beneath the surface
until her lungs felt ready to burst. Spearing up, she broke free and gulped back air,
then dove again, and a third time, to clear the turpentine smell.

But nothing could wash away the image of Darius Vasily’s sexy lopsided smile or the
way his dark hooded gaze had searched hers, almost intimately.

She wasn’t a virgin, although she wasn’t all that experienced, either. Only a couple
of half-serious relationships. One day she hoped to surrender to a passion deeper
and stronger than any emotion she’d ever known.

How would it feel to enjoy that kind of rapture with a man like the prince?

Vasily…
Even his name was hot.

Back on shore, she wrapped a sarong around her hips and thought about returning to
the stables or simply sitting on a rock to wait. But the heavenly span of beach to
her right looked so appealing.

Sandals in hand, she set off with warm pebbles crunching under her feet and the Mediterranean
sun heating her back and bare shoulders. In no time, she’d reached the other side
of the cove where sand and pebbles gave way to an outcrop. Exposed rocks glistened
with sea-spray; the tide was out. Balancing, she carefully picked her way over the
stretch. When she came to a cliff wall that jutted out into the sea, she turned to
head back. Then, at her feet, she spotted a break in the rock.

As a kid she’d loved to climb and explore. She’d come home so grubby her parents would
say she should have been a boy. That same
let’s see how far I can go
feeling gripped her now. Lowering onto hands and knees, she poked her head and then
shoulders through the hole. Wiggling, she finally popped out the other side.

The sight greeting her took her breath away.

…

Back at the villa, Darius removed his stained shirt, changed into white drawstring
pants, and poured a glass of wine while pondering the call he needed to make.

If Helene Masters was indeed a reporter, here to play him with her young and innocent
act, she would have arrived under her own steam; hopefully she’d be smart enough to
shove off before his posse arrived and rode her out of town. The press had their place,
but their thirst for sensationalism, no matter the cost, left him cold.

Out on the balcony, Darius put a call through to Yanni Kostas, his Chief Aide and
relayed the details of the situation. After disconnecting, Darius sipped from his
glass as he imagined the computer searches already underway. Should this Alexio’s
name be found logged alongside the caretaker’s position, one of Yanni’s men in the
city would visit the registered address and learn the truth. Darius estimated ten
minutes, tops.

Down below, he saw Helene Masters strolling along the beach. Her hair was flying in
a sea breeze, and she was edging her way along a far outcrop. Sprayed with seawater,
the rocks would be slippery. Although she looked nimble—almost graceful—he braced
himself, concerned she would slip. But she reached the cliff wall without incident.
Now to see if she could make it back without breaking her neck.

The phone rang. As always, Yanni was composed.

“Helene Masters’s story has been verified—to a point,” the Chief Aide said. “She arrived
at Tierenias three weeks ago and has since worked in a casual capacity for Alexio
Moraitis, a taverna owner and long-standing primary caretaker of our smaller island.
I need the name of the educational institution to authenticate her claim of graduating
this year. Some journalists build covers over many months. Photographs of you on that
island now would fetch a lot of money and be worth the time.” A humble tone came into
his voice. “I’ll organize a boat to collect her. When she is here, I will deal with
the situation appropriately.”

“Fine,” Darius said. “Good.”

But then, watching Helene exploring in the distance, apparently innocent of any wrong-doing
and probably having worked hard all morning in the sun, he reconsidered. He eyed his
glass, pondered the villa’s ample supplies, then recalled the intriguing hue of her
eyes. The passion in her voice.

“Actually, no,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t send a crew just yet.” Helene balanced on an elevated rock now, face tilted
toward the sky, arms out like a bird, sarong and flaxen hair flying in the breeze.
“I’ll call again and let you know when.”

“You’re aware of tradition, Your Highness. This time is to be spent alone.”

“With that tradition already breached, another few hours won’t hurt.”

Setting his cell aside, he sipped again, waiting for his temporary guest to turn about.
Instead she crouched—to check out a rock pool or, perhaps, a cut from an oyster shell
on her foot. When she remained low, out of sight, his gaze narrowed. Finally he let
out a growl.

A freak wave hadn’t swept her out to sea. And she couldn’t have magically passed through
that rock wall. There was a way into the ravine that lay on the other side, but its
entrance was well-hidden.

He couldn’t take a chance on anyone finding out what was concealed beyond that point.
If Helene found it—
dropped
it the way she’d dropped that bucket—

Darius raced out the door.

…

Several minutes later, out of breath, he stood before the cliff wall where she’d disappeared.
At ground level on this particularly low tide, he discovered an area of the rock had
eroded through to the other side. While a man of his build could never struggle through,
someone of Helene’s petite stature would fit.

Darius strode inland until he came upon a particular groove in the rock. Using his
shoulder, he pushed with all his might. Finally a rock louver grated open barely wide
enough for Darius to squeeze through. On the other side, he sprinted down the pebble-filled
corridor until he came to the obscured entrance of a cave. He cupped his mouth and
called into the tunnel, “
Helene Masters!”
then threw a glance to his right. By design that path, too, was blocked by a cliff
wall. No one was meant to find this entrance, although dainty footprints marked in
wet sand confirmed Helene had somehow managed it.

Many years ago, he’d ventured inside this cave with his father. Later, together, they’d
pored over a map. This place was a maze, and meant to be. He only hoped Helene hadn’t
wandered in too far and gotten hopelessly lost.

The scent of moss and salt suffused his senses. All around, dank air pressed in. Farther
down, amid misty light, a craggy three-pronged intersection appeared. Following his
mental roadmap, he took the left path where domed walls seemed to shrink and crowd
in. His surroundings began to glow, the result of a mineral in the rock. The constant
eerie trickle of water down limestone echoed all around him.

He took three more turns and finally a svelte silhouette came into view. The shadow
was reaching for a waist-high ledge. Horrified, Darius let out a booming cry.

“
Nooooo!
”

Helene jumped back with a loud yelp. Although these walls, too, gave off a luminous
quality, the chamber was draped in near darkness. Now she leaned forward, squinting
to see.

“Your Highness, is that you?”

His bare feet slapping cold puddles, Darius strode forward. “Helene, what in the name
of Zeus are you doing here?”

“Exploring.”

He could make out the fall of her hair, the sweep of her curves. But this minute his
interest lay not in the feminine form. He glanced at the ledge—
or not the flesh and blood kind
.

“Isn’t it amazing?” she asked, indicating the stone figurine that sat on that ledge.
“I think she’s the real deal. I mean
thousands
of years old.”

When she reached out again, Darius lunged and his hand snapped around her wrist. As
soon as skin met skin, volts hurled up his arm. From the jump she gave, Helene felt
it, too. The sensation was intense. Electric. Obviously a by-product of adrenaline
overload.

Her expression was one of dawning understanding.

“You knew she was in here, didn’t you?” she said. “You knew about this figurine and
this cave.”

Releasing her, Darius turned to the ledge. Outwardly the figurine was a rudimentary
piece: its shape was embellished with heavy breasts and ample hips, thighs, and belly.
But she signified a great deal more than that.

“This figurine is integral to my time here,” he replied. “I’ll take her with me when
I leave.”

“Why?”

His annoyance spiked. “Ms. Masters… ”

“You called me Helene before.”

Groaning, he conceded. “Helene—this is not a game.”

Carefully, he reached for the figurine.

He expected the stone to feel cold against his palms and yet her surface was warm.
Some thermal activity in the rock, he supposed. He tried to lift her but the base
stuck. Gentle rocking didn’t help. Would he need to come back with a pick? His ancestors
would roll over in their graves.

“She’s your goddess, isn’t she?” Helene asked. “The one with all those powers to seduce
and hypnotize. A fertility statue. I studied history in college. Lots of people all
over the world still believe in these things. There’s a huge market for replicas on
eBay.”

He had less than no interest in forgeries.

With his gaze adjusted to the shadows now, he scanned the ancient stone curves and
a sense of destiny overcame him. Helene needed to appreciate the gravity of her find.
She needed to understand that this place must remain secret.

“The eldest Vasily child enters this cave three times in his life,” he explained.
“Once as a boy, later to retrieve the figurine in manhood, and a third time when his
bloodline is assured, to show his oldest son the route and return the goddess to her
home until she is needed again. If the figurine were to be broken, it is said the
Vasily line would be broken, too. To restore and retain her powers she must return
again and again here to this cave. Only kings, their eldest sons, and the most senior
palace aide in each generation know of her hiding place and whether, in fact, she
is merely myth or truly exists.”

“Except now
I
know.”

His focus darted back to his awed companion.

“You must tell no one. She doesn’t belong on the black market or in a museum.”

Helene looked appalled. “Of course not. I won’t tell a soul.”

In the trickling quiet, they both studied the goddess for a long solemn moment while
the statue’s sightless eyes gazed back.

“When you return to the main island,” Helene said, “where will you put her?”

“A special vault. The villa here has one, too.”

She blinked at him. “Oh.”

He frowned back. “What?”

“Nothing… Except, well, it doesn’t seem fair. She finally gets out of this cold dark
cave only to be locked up again?”

He was about to state the obvious; this piece was made of stone and wouldn’t know
the difference. Instead he stopped. Listened. The sound of water running down limestone
had suddenly grown louder.

Beneath the bare soles of his feet, the ground seemed to shift and the echoing trickle
swelled more. At the same time as his muscles locked and his gaze flew toward the
tunnel entrance, the walls began to shake. When the ancient ceiling rumbled, Helene
Masters jumped and threw her arms around his middle.

A heartbeat later, the first boulder fell less than a foot away. With a final agonized
glance at the goddess, he swept Helene into his arms and bolted toward the exit. At
that same instant, the roof buckled and caved in.

Chapter Three

With boulders dropping and barely missing their heads, Helene held on as the prince
bundled her in the sling of his arms and shuffled away from the chamber’s exit. When
an almighty crack ripped out overhead and an even heavier rain of rock fell, dust
plumed and all light was snuffed out. They were trapped in the dark, cut off.

Alone.

After what seemed like an eternity—but which was more likely a few seconds—the sky
stopped falling, and deafening silence crept in. Helene felt numb. Hands. Heart. Brain.
She tried to scan the scene but the world had turned black. The air was clogged with
dust and stirred-up moss that stuck in her nose and throat. She hacked and coughed.
When she’d settled, Vasily set her down.

Neither one spoke. Helene guessed he was listening for creaking—noises that might
lead to another cave-in. But the only sounds were the echoing trickle of water and
her own ragged breathing.

His deep steady voice drifted over. “Are you all right?”

When his big hand found hers and squeezed, she exhaled and squeezed back. “This is
bad, isn’t it?”

He grunted and his fingers slipped away from hers.

A few feet away, she heard a sizzle, and then a flash went off. The scent of sulfur
permeated the air and swirls of yellow-blue flame appeared before Darius Vasily’s
face. His brow, cheeks, and what she could see of his bare chest were smudged with
sweat and grime. She studied the yard-long torch he held. He could have plucked it
out of the middle ages.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked.

“Torches line this chamber’s walls. Matches are always kept on the ledge.” Slipping
the box into a pocket, he stopped to study the figurine from head to toe, back and
front, until his shoulders rolled back.

“She’s unharmed.”

Helene slumped. With all due respect, she felt that was the least of their worries.

“A person can survive without food for a time,” she said, “but what about water?”
Then she remembered. “When Alexio gets here and can’t find anyone, he’ll send out
the alert.”

In the flickering light, she read his bleak look. If they could be dug out at all,
it could take days. Or weeks.

Finding her hand again, he led her between chunks of rock to the far wall. He gave
a simple instruction.

“Sit.”

He meant on the cold rocky floor? “Thanks. I’ll stand for a while.”

In a halo of torchlight, she watched him find a seat and get settled.

“It’s soft,” he said, “if that makes a difference.”

She made out some cushions fringed with gold brocade. “This cave is
furnished
?”

“Just this ledge.” He leaned back. “A small comfort during times of meditation.”

She joined him.

After setting her sandals down beside her and brushing away pebbles from under her
thighs, Helene’s jangled nerves settled a little, and clenched muscles began to relax.
She squinted at the figurine, but, from this distance, even an outline wasn’t visible.
It was a miracle that no one, including the goddess, had been harmed—
yet
.

When an icy ball settled in the pit of her belly, Helene couldn’t contain a shiver.

The prince asked, “Are you cold?”

“Not really.” She pulled up her legs to hug her knees. “Just edging a little toward
terrified.”

He held the torch and its light a foot above his head. “Watch the flame. It sucks
back. Oxygen isn’t cut off completely. If air can get in, there’s a way out. Even
rock wears away over time. Your doorway into that ravine is proof enough of that.”

She dropped her feet to the cold uneven ground. “Well, let’s get started.”

“We’ll gather ourselves first. Catch our breath.”

That would have been fine, except she hadn’t felt this claustrophobic since she was
a kid when she’d been grounded an entire month for sneaking out to see an R-rated
movie. Back then, being cooped up had seemed like the end of the world.
Talk about gaining perspective.

Her focus shifted to Darius. His brow furrowed in concentration; he, too, was surveying
the chamber and calculating their chances.
Which were good? Slim? Non-existent?

A low-pitched creak sounded overhead, and both their gazes shot up.

After an interminable time with her fingers gripping the seat’s lip, she summoned
the courage to ask, “Have there been other cave-ins?”

“None I’m aware of. Soon as I get back, I’ll have the structure reinforced.”

She arched a brow. “I thought this cave was meant to be a big secret.”

“I’ll need to cut out the tongues of all workers involved, of course.” When her jaw
dropped, his dark eyes glittered, reflecting the torchlight as he grinned. “Don’t
lose your sense of humor, Helene. We’re going to need it.”

After a time, when the constant trickle of water began driving her mad, she asked,
“Do you think the rock’s settled yet?”

“No way to be sure.” He went to say more but cut himself off.

In the torchlight’s relief, she studied his profile—that proud hawkish nose, a muscle
pulsing high on his smudged cheek, the tight line of his mouth. What was he hiding?

“If you have something to share, go ahead. I won’t fall apart.” At least she’d try
not to.

“If we poke around,” he finally said, “the rock might be disturbed again.”

“If we don’t, we’ll dehydrate and…” She didn’t need to spell it out.

“We’ll wait. Let more edges settle into place.”

She wanted to argue and get this show on the road, but she couldn’t explore on her
own. Irrespective of going nuts simply sitting here, wondering how this might end,
what choice did she have?

Passing minutes cobbled together, dragging by like weeks. Gradually Helene’s vision
adjusted. Across the way, she made out the figurine’s shape while her companion’s
steely presence grew clearer too. She took comfort in his regular breathing and in
the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad bare chest with its sheen of sweat. He held
the torch with two sure hands and the stem between his opened thighs. Despite it all,
she couldn’t help but imagine how hard those thighs might feel beneath her fingertips
or the slow steady slide of her palm.

If they’d lived in another time, the man sitting beside her would have led armies.

She shivered again. The torchlight gave off some heat but not nearly enough to stave
multiple goose bumps. Raising her legs, she hugged her knees again. When her teeth
began to chatter, air crackled as the torchlight arced over to one side and a strong
arm looped around her.

Helene’s eyes widened and her cheeks flashed hot. She hadn’t expected the contact.
But she was a thousand times grateful for the immediate comfort…for this incredible
skin-on-skin heat.

She eased her breath out and settled her cheek against the perfect plateau of the
prince’s naked chest. Her ear picked up the beating of his heart while the vibration
thrummed through her body and her blood. Her drawn-up legs gradually moved to rest
lightly against his lap. Fisting a hand under her chin, aware of his palm stroking
her arm to generate warmth, she snuggled in.

After a time, he asked, “Is that better?”

Her eyes had drifted shut. “Way better.”

“Your skin is like ice.”

“Yours is like fire.”

“The perfect complement then.”

Perfect is how she’d describe it.

As his palm slid up and down and his scratchy chin lowered to lightly rest upon her
crown, she began to thaw quite a bit and rather quickly now. Minutes ticked on and
Darius continued to warm and stroke her. Reality faded away, time seemed to turn in
on itself, and Helene swore she felt another presence here, waiting right along with
them.

The goddess?

As much as she enjoyed the stories, she didn’t believe in witches and goblins and
magical powers. But weren’t legends in some way connected to fact?

“Tell me more about your goddess,” she said.

“She isn’t
my
goddess. She belongs to our history. And our future.”

Helene’s lips curved against his gorgeous hard chest. “You really believe in her,
don’t you?”

“I believe in her the same way I believe in the blood that flows through my veins.”

“So you think her powers are real?”

“We give power to a belief through our faith. You must have things you believe in,
Helene.”

Her stomach swooped—he wondered if she had faith. Cloaked in this darkness, why not
be honest? “After my dad died, I stopped believing in a whole lot of things.”

The stroking on her arm slowed before starting up again. “It’s difficult to lose a
parent, I know.”

“He’d just gotten back from overseas,” Helene explained. “He got sick all of a sudden.
Weakness. Fever. That was ten years ago.”

After feeling lost and hurt and angry for so long, she’d accepted that her dad would
have wanted her to live her life rather than blame the world. She began planning a
future. Started dreaming again of the adventures the two of them had once talked so
much about—adventures her mother would say were foolish. Filled with unnecessary risks.
She couldn’t imagine the reaction when her mother heard about this escapade.
If
she lived to tell the tale.

“My father died last year,” Darius said. “A stroke. My mother died six months later.
They said it was of a broken heart.”

Helene’s own heart rolled over. Her mother might drive her crazy but she couldn’t
bear to think of losing her. Her mom was all the family she had.

“You have siblings, don’t you?” she asked. “I always wanted a sister.”

“One younger brother, Nikos. A bright, strong man. I’m very proud of him. And, yes,
I have a sister, too.”

She grinned to herself. “Do you lord it over them like big brothers do?”

“Not if they do as they’re told.”

She smiled and imagined that Vasily was smiling too.

“My brother’s finishing a medical degree in the UK,” he said.

“And your sister?”

“A teenager who can be a handful at times, to say the least.”

So his sister was a bit rebellious like Helene had been at that age. “Does she look
like you?”

“It’s said we both look like our mother.”

“She must have been beautiful.”

As soon as the words were out, Helene wanted to take them back. But seriously, Darius
must know he was a good looking man. Compliments would be thrown at him all over the
place.

The stroking on her arm continued, lulling her more.

“You’ve stopped shaking,” he said.

She almost sighed. She was positively toasty now. But when he moved to release her,
she snatched his big hand back and held on.

“I’m still a little shaky on the inside,” she said.

So he brought her close again, pressing her in until wiry hair on his chest tickled
her nose. Glorious warmth seeped back in, flooding her to her core. Her palm gingerly
splayed over a male abdomen rung with muscles.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she murmured, smiling.

“I only hope I’m good enough to get us out of here.”

As his palm slid higher up her arm, over her bare shoulder, that heat grew warmer
and deeper, and Helene reminded herself to keep their physical contact in perspective.
Trapped in a cave, they were utilizing body heat. Best not analyze the syrupy sensations
sluicing through her system. She wouldn’t dwell on whether his lips had brushed her
hair just now. Or if—her ear against his chest—she felt his heart beating harder than
it had a moment ago.

Still, curious, she peered up. Darius was staring straight ahead with his focus turned
inward.

Then he suddenly stiffened and abruptly set her aside. Bringing herself back with
a start, Helene looked skyward.

“Is the roof caving again?”

His voice rumbled out from the shadows. “Did you feel that draft?”

Helene blinked around. Where the torchlight had seemed so bright a moment ago, now
their space was dark again. Curled up against his chest, she hadn’t felt a draft but
obviously it had been strong enough to snuff out the torch.

His box of matches rattled. A scratch and a flash, and that eerie glow of light was
restored. Finding his feet, Darius handed over the torch.

“Hold it high,” he said. “Time to move.”

He picked his way over fallen rock into the deeper shadows and stopped at the far
side of the chamber. His back expanded as he took a fortifying breath then reached
for the figurine. He’d had trouble trying to shift her earlier. If she refused to
budge now, he’d have to leave her behind. And if more rocks fell, she might not be
so lucky next time.

In the flickering light, the muscles in Darius’s back twisted and bulged. Finally
the sound of stone grazing against grit filtered back. Then he turned, beaming, with
the goddess free and safe in his hands. When they stood side by side again, he locked
the figurine against his ribs and reclaimed the torch.

“Follow me,” he said. “Be careful. Some rocks are sharp.”

After she’d slipped on her sandals, they headed farther into the chamber and eventually
found a narrow tunnel. Somewhere ahead was the source of that draft And, hopefully,
their door to escape.

Progress was slow, but the longer they traveled in the cave the less debris they encountered
and the more the torchlight flickered as oxygen fed the flame. Regularly, Darius glanced
behind to be certain Helene was coping. Each time, she put on a brave face.

They came to a fork. Darius hesitated then took the right hand bend. When they came
to a second branch, however, he glanced behind as if wondering whether they should
retrace their steps.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “How about you?” Carrying that monster of a torch as well as the goddess,
he must be flagging. “I can carry her for a while, if you like.”

But when she put out her arms, his dark brows fell together, and he pulled away. “Helene,
please
.”

“I only wanted to help.”