Page 36 of Never Tamed
The wind stirs.
“That’s it.” I lift a hand. “I’ve officially lost my mind. I’m talking to a rock. A stupid, broken rock—”
Then, behind me, a familiar voice slices through the silence. “You know, I never did like that statue.”
Chapter 9
Ren
Istiffen at the voice, too close to my ear for comfort. A stiff breeze tickles the hair on the nape of my neck and goosebumps prickle along my skin. I definitely shouldn’t be surprised by it.
I’m not alone here and I think I knew it from the start.
But I force myself to turn around and stare at the woman slowly growing clearer against the darkness. Her body, an indistinct shape, sharpens and her features go hollow. Firm. Clear.
She is carved from the stone itself and ancient. She is old and young and timeless.
I’ve seen her before. I know her form even though I've never spoken to her face to face like this. She’s inside of me and all around me, the one who gave me life. The one who gave me until my twenty-fifth birthday before death claimed me again.
“Moon Goddess.”
Should I bow or something? We’ve met already, in a dream, but seeing her in front of her statue is next level strange for me. I nibble on my lip as unease skips my heartbeats. Not because of her. There’s reverence but not fear.
The unease comes from me and the reality that every step I took led to this moment, this encounter.
“Renee Wexler.”
My name is lyrical and fantastic in her long-dead language. Instead of strange or assaulting, the unfamiliar syllables are a song. This is like the dream but more, a richer experience, and although I don’t speak the same language she does, I understand everything.
She wants me to.
The edge of panic fades. “The statue looks like you,” I say. “You don’t like it?”
She stares at me for a long moment before a small, halting laugh pries her lips open. She shakes her head. “The carvers were struck by a vision of me. They got some of the features right but my chin is too prominent and my nose narrow. The eyes are smaller. I simply don’t care for it.”
She clucks her tongue like I’ve somehow managed to insult her in so few words. Her dark brows arch high.
I’m more prepared for her appearance this time around. Perhaps I’ve been through enough to make me more of a skeptic, or more open to things that should be fucking impossible.
My stomach is no longer shrinking, and neither am I. The icy tendrils of fear trickle away under the strength of the sweet and out of place breeze.
“You’re not here to talk about artist licensing, though,” the goddess adds. “I heard you. I brought you here, and I’ve come to you. As to what we do now—”
The wind increases and forces me back a step until my knees hit one of the toppled stones. I drop. This is not the fairy godmother goddess, no.
There is no wave of a magic wand and my happy ending suddenly presents itself on a platter. This is an ancient deity who shouldn’t exist and she wants to have a chat.
“I’ve worried you.” The goddess stalks toward me. “Maybe it’s this face you have difficulty addressing. I’m not as approachable this way.” A slither of shadow obscures her features. “Is this better?”
Her dark brows melt into gold and her hair grows longer, softer, falling around her heart shaped face. Her features round out and her eyes are much kinder when the goddess blinks them open this time.
Alarm splinters through me and a headache immediately deepens, because I’m not staring at the Moon Goddess anymore.
I’m looking at Anna.
The same Anna who pulled over to the side of the road in a random ass van to give me a ride when I needed it. The same Anna who sought me out at Rudy’s with a large tip I didn’t deserve and a cryptic message.
“I’ve tried visiting you multiple times,” Anna says with a tired smile. “This is the only figure you seem to respond to.”
