Read Online The Immortals by Jordanna Max Brodsky - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jordanna Max Brodsky
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moon lighting our path. Even my hounds cannot keep pace, and dryads and naiads fall panting behind us. Only Orion and I remain, leaping over rivers and across hills, then crouching down to hide behind the sheltering trees, ready to spring forth once more when prey crosses our path, I with my golden bow and the Hunter with his bronze sword.
I marvel at my own unfettered joy, so unlike the wrathful vengeance of my hunts with Apollo. My twin and I chase those who insult us, those who do not pay proper homage. But with Orion, I am only the Huntress of Beasts, the Goddess of Wild Places, Mistress of the Moon. To be with him is freedom. It is ecstasy.
I kneel with my Hunter behind a fallen tree, watching a stag and its doe pace silently into a moonbeam’s path. I start to raise my bow, but Orion takes my hand in his instead. I might protest, but for the look in his eyes, both gentle and hungry. “I would do anything to be with you,” he whispers. His words are a flame, heating my skin. There, in the shadow of the trees where even my father the Sky God might not see, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me.
I taste a man’s lips for the first time. I run my hands through his dark curls. I feel his heart beat strong against my breast, and I suffer both heat and chill when his hand slips beneath my tunic to rest against the small of my back.
Heart pounding, Selene pulled herself from the memory. She replaced the love letters in their box. As Helen’s ex-boyfriend and sometimes secret lover, Schultz looked even more suspicious. But no visible fingerprints marked the dust covering the lid. The professor hadn’t opened it in months. If Helen had indeed been his prey, he likely would’ve sought the photos and letters often, reliving his humiliation and heartache, stoking the fires of vengeance. Shaking her head resignedly, she stowed the box back under the bed. She’d had thousands of years of experience with hunts like these, and she prided herself on knowing when a man was guilty. But now she just wasn’t sure.
As she stood up, her skin prickled as if sensing something just beneath the range of human hearing. She stayed still for a moment, listening closely. Her hearing hadn’t been supernatural in centuries, and yet—yes, a quick step on the stairs, the jingling of keys. She snatched up her backpack and dashed toward the window, hoping for a fire escape. No such luck. Still, there was a narrow stone ledge overlooking the alley. Once she would’ve hopped onto the ledge without a thought, but that was before she’d lost her uncanny balance and agility—not to mention her ability to quickly heal from a fifth-story fall. Still, hiding in the closet seemed even stupider.
She opened the sash and swung onto the sill. Balancing on the six inches of granite with one booted foot, she slid shut the window with the other, then sidled out of view along the ledge, her back pressed against the brick wall of the building. Gingerly, she pulled off her left glove with her teeth: Her bare fingers could better grip the masonry. When she took the glove out of her mouth to shove it into her pocket, it slipped from her grip. Instinctively, she reached after it, bending down as it fluttered past her fingertips.
Then she froze. With a gasp, she realized she hung suspended fifty feet in the air, her feet on the narrow ledge and all her weight hanging over the abyss, with only the fingers of one hand to hold her steady. Yet somehow, she didn’t fall. Slowly, she stood upright, willing her heart to stop its panicked gallop.
From the apartment behind her, she heard the sound of an opening door. Curious, she glanced down at the window. Double-paned, as she thought. She shouldn’t be able to hear through it so easily.
So I can hear through walls again,
she mused.
If only I could see through them, too.
She’d give anything to see what Schultz was up to.
Don’t do it, don’t even think about it,
she chided herself.
Just because you’re
I marvel at my own unfettered joy, so unlike the wrathful vengeance of my hunts with Apollo. My twin and I chase those who insult us, those who do not pay proper homage. But with Orion, I am only the Huntress of Beasts, the Goddess of Wild Places, Mistress of the Moon. To be with him is freedom. It is ecstasy.
I kneel with my Hunter behind a fallen tree, watching a stag and its doe pace silently into a moonbeam’s path. I start to raise my bow, but Orion takes my hand in his instead. I might protest, but for the look in his eyes, both gentle and hungry. “I would do anything to be with you,” he whispers. His words are a flame, heating my skin. There, in the shadow of the trees where even my father the Sky God might not see, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me.
I taste a man’s lips for the first time. I run my hands through his dark curls. I feel his heart beat strong against my breast, and I suffer both heat and chill when his hand slips beneath my tunic to rest against the small of my back.
Heart pounding, Selene pulled herself from the memory. She replaced the love letters in their box. As Helen’s ex-boyfriend and sometimes secret lover, Schultz looked even more suspicious. But no visible fingerprints marked the dust covering the lid. The professor hadn’t opened it in months. If Helen had indeed been his prey, he likely would’ve sought the photos and letters often, reliving his humiliation and heartache, stoking the fires of vengeance. Shaking her head resignedly, she stowed the box back under the bed. She’d had thousands of years of experience with hunts like these, and she prided herself on knowing when a man was guilty. But now she just wasn’t sure.
As she stood up, her skin prickled as if sensing something just beneath the range of human hearing. She stayed still for a moment, listening closely. Her hearing hadn’t been supernatural in centuries, and yet—yes, a quick step on the stairs, the jingling of keys. She snatched up her backpack and dashed toward the window, hoping for a fire escape. No such luck. Still, there was a narrow stone ledge overlooking the alley. Once she would’ve hopped onto the ledge without a thought, but that was before she’d lost her uncanny balance and agility—not to mention her ability to quickly heal from a fifth-story fall. Still, hiding in the closet seemed even stupider.
She opened the sash and swung onto the sill. Balancing on the six inches of granite with one booted foot, she slid shut the window with the other, then sidled out of view along the ledge, her back pressed against the brick wall of the building. Gingerly, she pulled off her left glove with her teeth: Her bare fingers could better grip the masonry. When she took the glove out of her mouth to shove it into her pocket, it slipped from her grip. Instinctively, she reached after it, bending down as it fluttered past her fingertips.
Then she froze. With a gasp, she realized she hung suspended fifty feet in the air, her feet on the narrow ledge and all her weight hanging over the abyss, with only the fingers of one hand to hold her steady. Yet somehow, she didn’t fall. Slowly, she stood upright, willing her heart to stop its panicked gallop.
From the apartment behind her, she heard the sound of an opening door. Curious, she glanced down at the window. Double-paned, as she thought. She shouldn’t be able to hear through it so easily.
So I can hear through walls again,
she mused.
If only I could see through them, too.
She’d give anything to see what Schultz was up to.
Don’t do it, don’t even think about it,
she chided herself.
Just because you’re
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