Blessed (6 page)

She glanced at her watch and decided to take a break. It was forty minutes until class started, and her muzzy brain didn't understand a word about the prehistoric earth goddesses. At least she had the yummy eye candy that was Professor Klemenson to distract her, though she didn’t know if that was a good thing. Just like every other female student on campus, she’d been nearly obsessed with him since she’d seen him yesterday. He’d been the last thing on her mind when she went to sleep and the first thing when she woke up. She was afraid she’d drool all over herself in class today and wondered what he’d be wearing. In a perfect world he’d be naked, but she didn’t think she’d be that lucky. She stared at the book in her lap, not seeing a single word as various very naughty images came to mind of all the ways she’d like to see Professor Klemenson naked.

Something tickled at her senses, a feeling of warmth from her right that made her look up. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed Professor Klemenson setting his laptop on a bench not too far from her tree. She blinked hard, wondering if she was hallucinating, but the image of him remained solid and her heart raced as she realized he was really here.

Well, there went any chance she had of studying. Her brain and body were once again totally focused on the breathtakingly handsome man no more than a dozen steps away from her. He looked even more amazing than she’d remembered, if that was even possible. The sun caught the red highlights in his brown hair and accented the angle of his sharp cheekbones. He removed his jacket and set it on the bench while her hormones went into overdrive. Underneath, he wore a form-fitting white shirt, which showed off the impressive muscles of his arms and the glint of a thick gold band on his wrist. He must work out because his body was big and tight all over. Dark glasses hid his eyes, and he didn't seem to notice her admiring him as he sat on the bench and began typing.

She adjusted the book on her lap, turning slightly to the side so she could peek at the professor from beneath her sunglasses. Gods, he was hot, and every once in a while, the wind shifted and brought the scent of his cologne to her. It made her want to rub her cheek against his chest like a cat and purr.

Good lord, girlie, keep your pants on. You need to worry more about passing this class and less about that yummy-amazing-too-old-for-you-and-doesn't-know-you-exist man.
She blew a strand of hair off her forehead with a sigh.

“That's right, woman-child, you should be brushing up on your Greek mythology rather than ogling a man like some drunken harlot,” said a sharp and high-pitched voice from above her head.

Eliana gasped and looked up in the direction that the voice came from. A quick scan of branches revealed a little gray owl. No one else. Had someone spiked her drink last night?

Looking around to make sure no one was watching her talk to a tree, she whispered, “Who's there?”

“I am here to see you, woman-child. You're looking at me right now. I'm a messenger of my goddess sent to evaluate you.” The owl turned its head to look at her and hopped down a branch.

She shrieked and scrambled back from the tree, falling on her butt. Two times falling on her ass in fewer than twenty-four hours must be a record. Her thoughts fled as she stared at the talking bird, a scream caught in her throat.

The owl managed to look confused as it turned its head toward her.
“What's the matter with you? Why are you creating such a public spectacle?”
Hopping onto another lower limb, the owl snapped its yellow beak in irritation.
“Come now. You're attracting attention.”
The owl ruffled its feathers and managed to appear annoyed.

Professor Klemenson was suddenly at her side, pulling her to her feet. She was momentarily distracted from her panic by being so close to him. When she turned to look, his gaze captured hers even as part of her mind was shrieking that a fucking bird was talking to her. She hadn’t been close enough to notice it before, but Professor Klemenson had small flecks of amber in his green eyes. Even the presence of the yapping owl couldn't distract her from the tingle that went through her hand and straight to juncture of her thighs at his touch.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Professor Klemenson asked in a low voice. Noticing the crowd watching them, he added loudly, “It's okay. She saw a rat in the tree, and it scared her.”

A few of the guys laughed and returned to their football game. The other students went back to their studying once they realized there wouldn't be any drama. Just a girl scared of a rat. Didn’t he hear the owl? Was she going crazy?”

With a shaking hand, she pointed to the tree. “Talking owl in the tree. Am I losing my mind? I swear an owl talked to me from that tree.”

She winced as she realized the words sounded a little, no a lot, insane when she said them aloud. “I'm so sorry, Professor. I must still be drunk from last night.”

She gave her cheek a light slap and looked at the tree. Nope, the owl was still there, and it was glaring at her. Now that she looked closer she realized it wasn’t like any owl she’d ever seen. It was pure white and the gleam of its feathers had an almost iridescent sheen. And she was pretty sure owls didn’t have glowing purple eyes, at least not the owls where she came from.

“Drunk from last night? You're too young to be drinking.” Professor Klemenson appeared distracted.

“Priest of Odin, are you this woman's Mentor? Why have you been so slack in your duties? She knows nothing of me, or the Chosen.” The bird scolded him and ruffled its feathers. “How am I to evaluate her for my goddess when she's chattering like a scared monkey?”

She stared at him and to her surprise he gave the owl a small, differential bow before tugging her along with him so they returned to her spot beneath the tree. Bending to gather her books and sunglasses, he said softly, “My apologies. I haven't had the chance to approach her yet.”

What in the hell was going on? Was he talking to a bitchy owl, or was she having some kind of mental breakdown? She pinched her arm to see if she was still dreaming, but everything stayed the same.

Turning to look at Professor Klemenson, the owl said, “Get on with your training, Mentor. We cannot have her screaming every time I visit.” With a poof of amethyst light, the owl vanished.

Professor Klemenson handed her sunglasses back. “What's your cell phone number?”

“Huh?” was the most intelligent thing she could come up with. She stood staring at him with her sunglasses dangling in one hand. He smelled so good, warm and masculine. He was close enough to run her hands over his broad chest and down the flat surface of his stomach. Yep, she’d officially lost control of both her mind and her hormones.

“Your cell phone number. You do have a phone, don't you? I never see a girl these days who’s not talking or texting on one of those things.”

“Uh, cell phone. Yeah. I have one of those. My number is 555-1354.”

Professor Klemenson shot her a look as though he was unsure about her mental capacities, and she strived to appear normal.

“Good. Now sit down and go back to reading your book as though nothing happened. I'm going back to get my things, and I’ll call you before class starts.”

Professor Klemenson handed her the book she’d dropped, gave her a polite smile, then shook her hand for anyone watching to see. The rush of desire filled her body again as her fingers lingered in his after the handshake. He gave her another odd look as he turned to leave. Standing there in shock, she watched his perfect butt as he walked back toward his things.

She glanced up into the branches of the tree to make sure they were talking owl-, squirrel-, and grasshopper-free and leaned back on the trunk in a daze.
Okay, get a grip
.
You're not crazy unless Professor Klemenson is part of your delusion as well. He talked to the bird as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Yep, no big deal. I must have missed the part of the campus tour where they mentioned the rare talking owls as part of university life.

Her phone rang in the side bag of her backpack, and she dug it out. The display said,
Klemenson A
., followed by his number. Flipping open the phone, she glanced over at him as he gathered his things from the bench and held his cell phone in one hand.

“Hello?”

“Eliana, stop looking at me. I'm trying to keep the other students from paying any more attention to the situation. You staring at me while we both talk on the phone is not helping.”

“Oh, um, sorry.” She held the phone to her ear while she opened the book on her lap. Then she flipped it around when she realized it was upside down. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, thank you. I'm sure you're pretty confused about what's going on right now. I'll explain as much as I can before class starts, but I'm afraid we don't have much time. Can you meet me in the library after class?”

“Sure,” she said quickly and grimaced. “Um, no, actually I can't. I have another class after this, and I said I would meet some friends in the cafeteria for lunch. I can meet you after that, say around one o’clock?”

“That'll work. It's important you keep to your normal life as much as possible in public. Your friends and family must not think anything is out of the ordinary with you. The last thing you want is to have your owl friend pay a visit to your family to wipe their memory.” He paused and blew out a breath. “Things get strange when that happens, and it's hard to lead a double life. We try to keep the lies to a minimum.”

“Double life? Forgive me, Professor, but can you please tell me what the hell is going on here? I'm pretty sure I'm having a nervous breakdown.”

Professor Klemenson strode across the small footbridge leading to the religious studies hall as he talked. “No, you're not having a nervous breakdown. You're part of a small and elite group of people known as the Chosen.”

“The what?”

“Chosen, as in Chosen by the gods and goddesses to serve as their warriors on earth.” Professor Klemenson cut her off as she began to speak. “Listen. I'm going to be inside soon, and I don't have much time. I'm also a Chosen, and I'll be your mentor and help guide you through all of this. I'll answer your questions and explain things the best I can, but we do not have the time right now. I wish this had happened differently, but I'm afraid Athena forced my hand on this.”

Professor Klemenson paused outside the doors and she watched as he rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, you're the first person I’ve ever had to mentor, so please bear with me. I need you to get through the rest of the morning as normally as possible and to meet me at the library after lunch. Can you do that?”

The unreality of the situation made her want to break into hysterical giggles. Here she sat, talking with the man of her dreams about gods and goddesses she wasn’t even totally sure were even real. She swallowed a hysterical giggle. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He laughed and her nipples hardened at the husky sound. Shit, even his laugh was sexy. “Okay you believe me, okay you don't think you're crazy, or okay you're going to run off and try to tell someone about talking owls and psychotic professors?”

His teasing made her feel better, and she managed to relax a little bit and think. “Okay I'll keep my cool and wait to talk to you. But you have to promise to explain everything please. And what do you mean Athena forced your hand? Is that the name of the owl?”

Professor Klemenson chuckled. “No. I need to get to class now, and so do you. Remember, keep it as ordinary as you can, and I'll see you at the library, second floor. If anyone asks why, say you needed the extra credit and you're helping me with some of my fellowship research.”

The seconds dragged by as Eliana’s mind raced, turning over thoughts of the strange afternoon she’d just experienced. She accepted the idea that she wasn't going crazy as the class wore on, but she still wasn’t sure exactly what the fuck was going on. Trying to keep Professor Klemenson's words in mind, she chatted with Rachel and compared notes on the upcoming test while trying to act normal. The only time she had faltered was when the two professors came into the room.

She wondered if Professor Ventan, in his purple velvet smoking jacket, was a Chosen, too. Trying to imagine the portly old professor as a magical warrior just didn't work. He certainly didn't have the same presence Professor Klemenson did. Every person in the room turned to look at him when he entered the room, and it echoed with the now-familiar sighs of the female students. Even with her mind going through a mini-meltdown he was still the hottest man she’d ever seen.

Her eyes locked on his butt as he wrote on the dry erase board, and his lecture faded to a drone. She gave herself a mental shake and tried to focus.
This is pathetic.
Her gaze dropped to her laptop.
I have to get my hormones under control around this man. As if I don't have enough going on right now without adding a mountain-sized crush on my professor, who is possibly delusional.

The lights dimmed as Professor Ventan set up the projector. In the near dark, she chewed on the end of her pen and stared at Professor Klemenson. Even though he faced her, she couldn’t see his face clearly. She began to imagine what it would be like to sit across from him in the library. Close enough to touch, but just out of reach. She fought back a yawn as her lack of sleep and hangover caught up with her.

Chewing harder on the edge of her pen, her breath came out in a soft hiss as the phantom touch from yesterday returned. Warm, soft fingers traced themselves over her lips and down the edge of her jaw. Shifting, she clenched her thighs tight when she noticed Professor Klemenson watching her intently. For a moment she swore she saw a beautiful deep green glow around him, but it faded as her body warmed further beneath the phantom touch. She had no idea what was going on, but she was certain it had something to do with Professor Klemenson. Was he somehow touching her with magic? The idea wasn’t as preposterous as it would have been before she had her little chat with the talking owl. And if he was touching her, why was he doing it? Was he trying to turn her on? He’d given no indication of being attracted to her in any way, yet the feeling of being touched was one of the most sensual experiences of her life. Maybe she was losing her mind, but gods did it feel amazing. The touch went lower now, tracing a descending circle over her breast toward her nipples. It was unreal how amazingly good it felt. Rich and decadent, the scent of Professor Klemenson's cologne washed over her and she drew in a shuddering breath.