The Oracle at Mythic: Mythic Series, Book 3 by Zanders Abbie

Author:Zanders,Abbie [Zanders,Abbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abbie Zanders
Published: 2016-10-15T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8 – Misery Loves Company

For the second day in a row, Tedi woke up warm and snuggled amongst blankets at the cabin, without a clear memory of how she got there. But unlike yesterday, she woke not with an optimistic sense of the day’s potential, but with a heavy, empty feeling deep in the pit of her stomach.

She yawned and stretched out the kinks, checking the time on the old-fashioned mantle clock over the hearth. For nearly eight blissful hours, she hadn’t tossed. She hadn’t turned. And she hadn’t dreamed. That was probably a good thing, because for the past week or so, her nights had been plagued with images and sensations she no longer wanted.

Upon waking, however, her temporary reprieve came to an end, and thoughts of Kristoff invaded mercilessly once more.

It didn’t really make sense that she should be so bothered by what she’d seen. She was a grown woman, one who had been studying ancient myths and legends for most of her life. Things like nudity and consensual sex among any number of adults were prevalent, recurring themes. Dionysus thrived on that sort of thing. Then again, studying and witnessing with one’s own eyes were two vastly different things.

And really, it wasn’t the open, blatantly sexual display that had affected her so deeply. It was the fact that it was Kristoff amid all those writhing females that had stolen the breath from her lungs and paralyzed her ability to function.

Again, it made no sense. She had no claim on him. She barely even knew him. So what if the first time she saw him, she felt like her whole world had shifted? So what if she heard his voice every night in her dreams, felt his hands touching the most intimate parts of her? So what if, in those dreams, they had made mad, passionate love?

They were just dreams. Silly visions created by a woman who was obviously manifesting unfulfilled sexual fantasies through her subconscious (she’d read a psych book or twelve). Kristoff was simply the man unlucky enough to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, appearing when she’d needed someone.

First the flat tire. What woman wouldn’t be feeling a little needy when her car was broken down on an unfamiliar road in the middle of the night? Or be attracted to a gorgeous, mysterious dark stranger who had not only swapped the defective tire for another with singular skill and efficiency, but who had also tended so carefully to the minor scrapes and cuts she’d obtained when trying to figure out how to fix it herself?

Of course her mind would conjure him up as a modern day knight in shining armor, prompting the first of her perfectly reasonable nocturnal fantasies.

Then the storm. Once again, he had appeared when she had been feeling particularly alone, scared, and vulnerable (she was now convinced that his visit had, in fact, been real).

And really, he hadn’t done anything to encourage her inappropriate thoughts. He’d changed her tire, not declared his undying love and asked her to have his babies.

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