Apollo's Muse

Lykos (Discovery) XVII

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The tingle emanating from her skin sizzled up his arm as she removed her hand from his.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice shaking a little. The soft light of her bedside lamp illuminated her luminescent blue eyes, as she stared at him. He swallowed.

““You're saying you have the dreams, too?”

His voice sounded gravelly in his own ears.

She nodded, her face pursing into a frown.

“So many things have been happening… These weird dreams, and the things…” 

She paused and considered him a moment.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“Of course.”

He leaned forward, watching as she went to her dresser and slid one open. The quiet grating of the wooden drawer sliding in the slot sounded loud in the expectant silence. She drew something out, blushing crimson as she snatched a pair of lacy white panties from the object and stuffed them back in the drawer.

Lace? Hmmm…. 

He leaned back as she approached, holding out something dark and gleaming. He wrapped his fingers round the smooth wood, examining it carefully. He noted the silvery glow surrounding the strings, stretched between the arms of the instrument. He touched one, experimentally, and listened to the ghostly chime as it echoed around the room. 

“Wow. Where’d you get this?”

She looked him firmly in the eyes.

“I woke up with it in my bed. It was in one of my dreams, and a man gave it me. I think he was a god.”

Holy hell.

He stared at the lyre, narrowing his eyes a little.

It feels like it has a life of its own. A little electric current when I touch the strings.

“It’s magic, isn’t it?”

She paused, and he read the hesitation in her eyes before she replied, biting her lip.

“I think so. I think the man that gave it to me was a Greek god. Don’t judge,” she flushed, avoiding his gaze, “I did some research, and it seems like it was Apollo.”

He looked at the lyre with new appreciation. 

“So, how did you end up with it? Why did he give it to you?”

“I think…” She looked away. “I don’t know quite how to say this.”

“Start from the beginning,” he coaxed.

She’s so beautiful, he marveled, his eyes resting on the golden waves of her hair, the light on her pale skin, the curve of her eyelashes resting darkly against her cheekbones. 

“Well, the lyre isn’t the only thing.” 

She slowly pulled back her sleeve, and he stared at the silver bangle glowing on her wrist. A faint blue glow surrounded it, and as she touched it with a fingertip, ancient runes appeared, rising out of the metal.

Woah. 

His mind boggled a little.

“I woke up with this, soon after the lyre appeared,” she explained. “It’s moulded to my wrist. And that’s not all.”