Blood of Zeus (Blood of Zeus #1) - Meredith Wild Page 0,68

ever made me this free?

That answer is already clear. I won’t tell her.

“At least you’ve been aware enough to be watchful,” she goes on. “There’ll be bloody hell to pay if your mother finds out about this.”

I rear back. “My mother? Why would she care about—”

“And then there’s Veronica,” she interrupts and facepalms herself. “Oh, heaven help us, Nancy’s fit will be dust in the wind if Veronica catches a sniff of this mess.”

This mess.

Reg’s assessment isn’t technically wrong—because there are a lot of messy parts about how hard, far, and fast I’ve tumbled for Kara—but the inference that we’re like a couple of kids who don’t realize it…is just wrong. Neither of us asked for this, but neither of us is ignoring its impact. On everything. Sometimes, accepting fate’s whiplash is the first step to recovering from it.

That’s no help for my onslaught of feelings now.

My perplexity spirals into protective rage. My hand crushes into a fist, demolishing the ceramic mug from which I just drank. Thank fuck I was done with the contents. I’m not as grateful for everything I’m still feeling.

She steps over and reaches out—around the chunks of my shattered mug—for my hand. Her fingers are freezing talons. Her grip is shockingly brutal. “I assure you, if you take this any further with that woman’s daughter, there will be consequences.”

The ice in her clench is now a chill through my blood and fissures through my mind. Through those cracks, there’s comprehension I don’t want to see. Unfeeling light. A dawn of dread.

Still, I force myself to question her. “Consequences? Reg? What the fuck are you implying?”

“Maybe you already know.” Her voice is suddenly soft and sad.

But I’m not sad. I’m damn near redlined with anger now, pegged-out to the point of sarcasm. “Sure. Right. Because I’ve totally loved getting hit with nothing but half-truths and symbolism for the last two weeks.” I pull my hand free and drag it, nicked and bloody, through my hair. “Christ. Medieval poetry is clearer than you and Kara put together.”

“No matter what this is between you two…no matter what you are both feeling… Maximus…you can never be with her.”

I thought the conversation was excruciating before. This isn’t like the woman scolding me for unfinished homework or not eating all my vegetables. This isn’t an admonishment I can tune out. I have to hear it. I have to comprehend it. Yesterday, I promised Kara no less. My vow hasn’t changed since then.

A high-pitched squeal pierces the tension between us.

The next second, Sarah rushes out from her office doorway wearing a Coldplay T-shirt and the biggest grin. “Oh, now, this is brilliant,” she exclaims. “The king of the day, in the flesh. When were you planning on filling us in?”

I glance backward, ascertaining she isn’t referring to someone other than me. “Okay. What did I miss?” I ask warily. There’s something about that mischief on her face, illuminated a little more by the glow from her phone, which she now swings over to show to Reg.

In return, Reg is painfully quiet. She looks ready to vomit on everything she’s just cleaned. Instead, she wrests the phone from her wife, flips the screen toward me, and spits a single word.

“Discreet?”

Only then do I get my first horrified view of a photo at the top of Star Passion, a popular gossip blog.

Well…shit.

“Enlighten me, Professor. The definition of ‘discreet’ seems to have changed since the last time I checked.”

Inwardly I echo my profanity, but the word never makes it to my lips. I take the device from Reg and scroll down the page. Nothing gets any easier to take in, including the salacious “breaking news” beneath the dim but clear photo of Kara and me, hands clasped and stares locked, from the tech booth at the back of the lecture hall. Farther down, there’s another shot. Her hand is on my shoulder. I’m leaning down as if getting ready to kiss her.

Though I used Herculean effort and held back, not a soul who sees that picture will think that. The visits counter at the bottom of the page tallies the views at six digits—and climbing fast.

“Shit.” I slide the phone back across the counter toward Sarah.

The woman barely notices. She’s still ping-ponging a dumbfounded look between Reg and me.

“Anyone care to enlighten the girl who just dropped a clanger here?” she finally demands. “Reg? Aren’t we happy for our boy? Maximus? This is a good thing, right? This girl… I mean, look at how she