Page 19 of Lies Among Gods

He stood at his desk, not seated, but braced against its edge. A thick stack of papers clutched in his hand. His simple, tight black button-up shirt stretched taut across his broad chest, and his pants hugged the coiled power in his legs. His dark eyes, like polished obsidian, swept over her. They paused, catching the subtle smudge of dirt on her elbow; her hand darted to it to brush it off. A ghost of a smirk, a barely there twitch, played on the corner of his lips.

"Lyra Nymphaea. What disaster has brought you here this time?” His question hung in the air, the words laced with a bitter, metallic taste of sarcasm, a sharp edge that pricked at her.

For a fleeting moment, her skin prickled with indignation, a hot flush rising. Then, the defiant storm in her eyes softened, and the pent-up feelings spilled out in a rush of hurried words, a cascade tumbling from her lips. “Let’s see, I am being stalked by monsters with cameras and tons of questions. They post everything I say and everything I don’t say. I even saw one that speculated on what I eat to maintain my figure. I’ve spent my whole life being rejected by practically everyone, and now everyone wants a piece of me. Even my childhood boyfriend. My mom keeps telling me everything I need to change about myself so I can be presentable. Then—”

“Slow down and take a breath,” he laughed softly.

“You think this is a joke?” she growled.

“No, I think you are speaking so fast that I can’t keep up with you.”

“I have this constant feeling that I am being watched,” she said, taking a deep breath. “The paparazzi are constantly outsidethe house. Even when they aren’t there, I feel like I am being watched.”

"There is always going to be eyes on you from here on out,” he stated. “There are very few places that we aren’t monitored. My office is one of the few places I can hide from the world and not be scrutinized."

“Do you get used to the feeling?”

He shrugged, his eyes surveying her. “It bothers you less over time. You just get… used to it.”

“I feel like I am going to disappoint everyone,” she whispered, looking down at her sneakers. “That I will fail.”

Alaios pushed off the desk and took a step toward her, the floor creaking faintly beneath his feet as he closed the distance. The air between them seemed to sharpen. Her eyes, wide like saucers, darted up toward his face. The intense, icy chill of his gaze was back, a familiar, unsettling sensation, but now it held a subtle, almost imperceptible flicker of something she couldn’t quite name—a spark of interest, or perhaps even a hint of concern, like a warm ember briefly glowing in a cold fireplace.

"The Sun God is afraid of what you will be,” he stated simply. “And the God of Lust only cares for what he can take from you now. The other gods are watching to see if you’ll conform or shake up the status quo. As for your parents... they are just mortals, trying to make sense of a world that is spinning out of their control. The media wants to answer all the questions the world has just to get views.”

“What do you want?” she whispered.

His lips curved into a smile, a fleeting warmth blooming in his eyes, chasing away their usual frosty chill. “Nothing.”

Her gaze locked onto his, a visible current of warmth blooming within her core. Her mind raced as she tried to form a coherent thought. “What should I do?”

His hands were a blur of motion as they reached over. The hoodie slid off her head, a fleeting brush against her skin. “What you should do, Lyra, is what you have always done. Fight. You fight the expectations, you fight the lies, you fight the speculation, and you fight the fear inside you.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she scoffed.

“The trials… life itself isn’t designed to test your obedience; it’s designed to test your will. And you, little storm, have nothing but will.”

The confidence in his words was a solid, comforting weight. She felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude, a desire to anchor herself to his unyielding reality. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in the warmth of his chest.

"Thank you,” she mumbled against his chest, the words thick with relief. “I just... needed to hear that. I think with my mother’s constant poise and my lack thereof, it just makes me feel so much more… less."

His body stiffened, then a large, calloused hand landed with a comforting weight on the back of her head. His thick fingers gently wove through the strands of her hair. The other hand rested on the small of her back, the heat from his skin seeped through her sweatshirt, a radiating warmth.

"Did you see the video of me in the diner with my ex?” Lyra muttered, her face still buried in his chest.

He hesitated before replying, “Yes."

Lyra listened to his chest, the steady, resonant thump-thump of his heart. She wondered if he’d cyber-stalked her or if the video was simply playing on blast so much no one could miss it.

"Did I make a fool of myself?” she asked.

"No, he made a fool of himself,” Alaios responded, his voice low and firm. “Lyra, you need to watch out for those that will use you, try to be a part of your circle just so they can be friends ormore with a future goddess. You will need to be careful who you let in."

“Nothing in life could just be easy,” she grumbled.

“If everything were easy, it would hold no merit.”

Exhaling deeply, she thought about all the changes in her life. The knowledge that she would never know for sure if someone wanted to know her or wanted the attention knowing her brought.