Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(113)
look of disdain. “It may be correct, but that hasn’t happened in a very long time, we made sure of it.”
Before anyone else can respond, the door behind the group bursts open, distracting everyone as a
man in brown overalls comes running in with a piece of parchment waving around in his hands.
“I have it here, sir, I have it here,” he calls out through heavy breathing, cutting through the crowd
to get to Zellus, who wordlessly takes the sheet of paper from his grasp, hiding whatever it details
from the others.
Everyone looks at him expectantly as the guy quickly retreats, but the door doesn’t shut behind
him as Dante saunters into the room like a fucking rockstar. He looks around curiously, his eyes
immediately falling to mine as my name slips from his lips. “Rhea?”
One word and all eyes turn to me. Some even look like they had barely registered me there to
begin with. Assholes.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and Zellus gives a little chuckle. “Oh, I rendered
our little trouble maker silent for a while,” he says with a cluck of his tongue, before offering me his
back like I don’t exist, and turns to look at the group. All of whom keep their gazes fixed on Zellus.
“Get to the point, Zellus,” Zeus rumbles, the tension in his neck tightening as he works his jaw in
agitation, but instead of speaking, Zellus offers the paper to the God, who gapes in surprise and lets
the paper flutter to the floor.
With his slick backed hair and larger than life persona that drifts off him in waves, you could pass
him as Zellus’ sibling or something.
“It can’t be true. It can’t be.” His words are barely more than a whisper as the Almighty God’s
face pales, his brows knitting together as he turns a stern gaze my way.
“Can someone fucking explain to me what the hell is going on?” Mrs. Black barks, hands on her
hips as the man with blue hair huffs.
“You and I both know they have a flare for the dramatics,” a man says dismissively, his gaze
flicking back to me for a moment. “But I would like to know why you have my son held in another
room, Zellus.”
“Do you even know which one it is, Hades?” Zellus retorts with a quirk of his eyebrow and a
scoff, which Hades doesn’t even bother to respond to.
Hades, as in the Hades, as in Adonis’ father?
Shit.
Yeah, that would have something to do with me I think, but I can’t tell him that, not with my lead
tongue.
“She’s a God,” Zellus continues, moving away from Zeus as the others look at me in surprise, and
my heart about stops in my chest with my own shock.
“A God that was lost to the human world for twenty-two years?” Dante asks in disbelief, seeking
clarification for all of us, and Zellus simply shrugs in response.
“I mean, after reading that,” Zellus says, pointing at the discarded paper on the floor before
continuing, “I would say it all makes a lot of sense, wouldn’t you, Zeus?”
My heart rate kicks up, my body pulsing with every throb, but I’m left completely helpless as I’m
unable to say or do a single thing.
“It can’t be possible,” Zeus repeats, and even I want to strangle the pair of them now, and not for
my current situation, but because Hades was right; they love the fucking drama.
“We ran a sample of her blood while she was knocked out to determine her heritage without
triggering her magic. Not something usually appreciated, but desperate times call for desperate
measures,” Zellus explains, moving to stand in front of me now as he sweeps his arm out to draw
their attention to me. “Ladies and gentleman, fine leaders of the Hex, I give you…”
He pauses for dramatic effect, my eyes widening a fraction as I desperately wait to hear what he
has to say too. I’ve waited my whole life for this moment, to understand where I came from, who my
parents might be, before my magic was even known, and here this man is going to drop it like a gossip
bomb.
I still lap it up, every morsel, every word, like a greedy, starved child.
Until the words fall from his mouth.
Uncaring.
Emotionless.
World shattering.
I wish he could take them back.
I wish I had closed my ears somehow, squeezed my eyes shut, and continued to live in unknowing
bliss.
But there’s no going back from this.
No bright future.
Only darkness.
“The child of… Zeus… and Nyx.”
Afterword
Holy. Motherfucking. Shit. Balls.
How in the ever-loving fuck did I just write my first paranormal/fantasy book?
I’m obsessed with all of the guys, and Rhea herself.
She’s fire, a total badass with the love for peen that I’m here for.
Honestly, when I started plotting Featherstone way back when, I truly thought it was going to be
paranormal, but the story shifted into exactly what it was supposed to be. Then I stayed safe in the
contemporary world.