Legends and Myths of the Demigoddess 1 Read online

  Legends & Myths of the Demigoddess Book I

  Owen Oakley

  Copyright © 2020 Owen Oakley

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9798612033806

  DEDICATION

  For my Imagination.

  You out dreamed yourself.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  i

  1

  Sabine

  10

  2

  Sabine

  18

  3

  Sabine

  26

  4

  Sabine

  31

  5

  Roman

  36

  6

  Sabine

  39

  7

  Sabine

  45

  8

  Sabine

  52

  9

  Sabine

  61

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Aiden

  Sabine

  Demetri

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Demetri

  Roman

  Aiden

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Cairo

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Demetri

  Sabine

  Foxtrot

  Sabine

  Demetri

  Sabine

  Roman

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Sabine

  Demetri

  Sabine

  66

  74

  82

  88

  97

  105

  114

  118

  124

  136

  140

  142

  151

  154

  158

  166

  173

  180

  188

  197

  206

  213

  217

  220

  223

  226

  233

  240

  246

  250

  258

  265

  268

  276

  281

  286

  290

  299

  306

  310

  322

  333

  344

  350

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Foremost I thank God for blessing me with such a talent to share with others. I’ve always had an overactive imagination and I hope it will never leave me. To my wonderful family who always ride the journey with me through the highs and lows. Liana M Thank you for always doing a wonderful job on my covers. You are gifted and I look forward to working with you more. Now, to my readers who are the true rock stars. Thank you all for the love and support with each novel. Your feedback and reviews are such a huge help, and I appreciate it sincerely.

  1

  T he disarray of wildflowers is a chorus that enraptures wonderment. I can empathize with that statement. My life is a wonder, and by that, I mean I’m a complete enigma. The only thing that’s written in the book of facts is that I killed my mother and my father left me.

  I spent years bouncing from one foster care to the next. There were two types; Birth into it or placed in someone else’s responsibility.

  Somehow fate chose the former for me. The ninth ward in New Orleans isn’t for the faint at heart. I recall many days of verbal and physical abuse, but it only fueled me to be more than what my caretakers declared I’d be.

  The only family I have is Aiden, my college best friend of eight years. I could say I’ve never gotten close to anyone, but that’d be a lie. I’m different, and I learned to accept it, but in return, only to live a lonely and unexciting life because of it.

  Well almost boring, if I count not hooking up with guys and partying, then yeah dull for sure.

  My eyes fly open; sweat drenched my silk shirt, causing it to melt against my body. I awakened from another vivid dream of bad people plotting among the magical realms.

  I shake off the thought and sit up, accommodating my eyes to the clock on my nightstand. Only seven-thirty and still light out. I grab my pen and pad that I always keep in bed with me and jot down a few details from my dream.

  The only silver lining from these dreams and often nightmares is that they’ve made me into one of the top self-publishing author sensations of fantasy and fiction, their words not mine. My most popular fantasy book series The Key to the Magical Realms was making quite the buzz in the literary world.

  Publishers pressure me to sign with them after I’ve done the legwork building my brand and book promotions, um no thanks. Never a fan of the middleman. The type of girl who rather have all my coins to myself since I reinvest my money each time, I release a novel.

  As I continue jotting down a few words, a delicate breeze caress my skin, beckoning me to follow onto the platform that overlooks the French Quarter. Food aroma carried through the air along with the stagnant, reek of booze, forcing me to breathe in deep and cherish the moment.

  Summer was in full swing here. Days were longer with only a tinge of color that painted the skies. Heat mixed with a humid wind swept over me with a sandpaper touch.

  The sound of tourists unable to hold their liquor jolts my attention to the crowd below. I roll my eyes, and a small smile emerge on my lips. New Orleans can get the best of some if not careful. The charm of the city is the allure. I was born and raised here, and its beauty still keeps me in awe.

  Another breeze that’s few pass, lifting my waist long hair into an angle. There wasn’t much I could do with it. I catch it and bring it around my shoulder just as a guy chase a shrieking girl around, spilling alcohol over the cobblestone street.

  Even though this is a busy and most sought-after part of town, I love my setup here. A two-story home that I didn’t have to redecorate. The French style suited me. The apricot and white trim is both comforting and stylish.

  I only use the lower level to come and go whenever that was, to cook, and take care of the many plants I have and orchids. It resembles a wild jungle, but it’s my sanctuary — a place to revive and draw energy and vitality.

  The top floor was my bedroom’s mini apartment. My bedroom is big enough to do at least ten cartwheels and another living area joined by double glass doo
rs I turned into my writing office, where I devote most of my time.

  At the thought of writing, I head to my desk and open my email from my laptop. My attention fall on my hands, and I wince. I’d need a new pair of gloves, mocha the same color as my skin is better because people won’t ask too many questions; a reason I don’t go out.

  Aiden picks up the things I need and the other few personal things I do for myself.

  I’ve worn gloves my entire life or ever since I can remember. They told me never to take them off. I didn’t except once, and it was the last time. Now I have a collection to match every outfit and not to mention a waterproof pair. Can never be too safe.

  Two hundred emails had emerged after sorting through and clearing them before going to sleep. I sighed, rolling the kinks out of my neck to get started again.

  Some are from aspiring writers looking for advice. A handful about photoshoots and a magazine feature, delete. After answering a few pieces of fan mail and sorting through other stuff that isn’t important, I come to an email that makes my heart stop.

  I clasp my hands to stop them from shaking and lean in closer to the screen.

  “Subj: Decision on your submission of The Key to the Magical Realms,” I read out loud swallowing hard with my heart pounding out of my chest.

  The flutter of my heart and swirling thoughts cause me to avert my eyes, not because of possible rejection, but because it’s the next level for my career. I’ve written books for the last five years, but screenwriting is another passion, and being in the world of filming means everything.

  Enough time had passed, and I didn’t think I’d hear from them. It had been well over nine months. The book I wrote kept my mind occupied from obsessing over the verdict.

  Without thinking, I click on it and scan the screen and lean back in my chair; I have to blink several times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. A huge smile spreads across my face.

  I got it.

  This is amazing, and regardless of the good things that happen in my life, I always have an empty void tugging at my heart. Nestled deep inside of me I wonder who I am?

  I never had parents, after I turned eighteen, I gained my record, but there wasn’t enough information on my birth parents to worry about. Names that led to dead ends until I met Aiden who made me see the cup as half full instead of empty. At the thought of my life saving best friend, I need to tell him the good news.

  I fumble for my phone. My fingers shake and hover over the screen when I hear a door open and shut. I fidget until I hit send. Aiden has a key, but he usually makes a lot of noise or complains about having to weave through my downstairs forest. But this time nothing stirred below me. The noise makes me descend the stairs, but I step on the one pesky, squeaky step and it betrays me.

  I frown and curse under my breath. Once I hit the bottom of the stairs; I round the corner smashing into a hard-muscular chest. When I stumble back, extending my arms to prepare for a fight; a whiff of expensive smell catch my nostrils, and I find myself in no danger.

  “Jesus! Don’t startle me like that. Why didn’t you announce yourself?” I suggest between rapid gasps. “I texted you.”

  He grinned down at me, cashing in on the opportunity to hug me. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”

  “Ha, ha, ha!” I mock and stick out my tongue.

  Aiden is the best thing in my life, a perpetual factor, and given my history, I needed him more than he’d ever know. He taught me how to care, love, and enjoy life even though I can’t touch.

  Just as he released me, he pulls me back into another hug this one tighter than before. “I think a congratulation is in order. If anyone deserves it, it’s you, Sabine.” Those words were enough to ebb the void.

  He always smelled so good, his Burberry cologne, intoxicating. He left his scent behind as a constant reminder of him. The privilege to be his best friend wasn’t easy. At over six feet tall, he towered over my five-foot three frame, and I melt right into his embrace.

  His smile was everything, stressing his deep dimples and slender face.

  He was all man but even a woman would pout and complain of his beautiful features, long thick lashes, and the way he dresses — not a blemish on his dark skin, smooth like rich chocolate.

  I pull back, noticing that he was smiling more than usual, and it worried me. “What?”

  He waggle his dark, thick brows, and I’ve experienced that face before. I’ve seen it too many times back when we attended Xavier University together. When he wanted me to do something outside my comfort zone, which included a lot of things.

  “No.” I reproach with my hip cock. Aiden’s shoulders slump, and I ignore it.

  “We go through this every time Sabine; people need to see you. Interact with your fans and readers.” I head to the kitchen, ignoring his words I hear more than enough these days.

  If we would have this conversation, I needed wine to stomach it.

  “What do you think having a movie deal means?” He was right on my heels. The heat of his presence near like a warm coat.

  After retrieving the opened bottle from the fridge; I slide his glass over to him as I think about his question and pour myself one. “It means I write and nothing else. I post pictures on Instagram and Facebook. I tweet. Use Pinterest, all the basics,” I reply with a shrug.

  He shakes his head, that’s not what he meant. I sigh, giving in to his handsome face and I think he wore fitted dress pants and a polo shirt that hugged his biceps showing off his symbols to weaken me. And I’m reluctant to declare it work.

  “What do you suggest?” I ask, hoping it’s something within in reason because with Aiden anything was possible. He shoots me one of those cocky smiles that I’ve hated since our freshman year.

  “A party. Invite all of New Orleans.” He types away on his phone, biting his lip with intense concentration.

  See what I mean? I try to catch a glimpse at his phone, but he held it higher out of my reach. My stomach lurched at the thought of what he could be doing. I worry away at my glass, having turned it around so many times, my wine was now a liquid swirl.

  It doesn’t take long to figure out. Seconds later, my phone chirp, that’s my Twitter notification, later a bing, then a bark, okay that’s Facebook and Instagram. I snatch my phone from the table.

  My Twitter and Facebook was blowing up. Retweets and re-posts. See this is what I get for letting my best friend have access to my accounts. No doubt how he found out about the movie deal.

  “Aiden?” He shrugs, sipping his wine. Like there was nothing to it.

  “I thought it would boost morale to keep your three hundred thousand plus followers in the loop.”

  I glare at him before glancing back down at the tweet from my account. My eyes bulge out of my head at the information in the tweet. “You already booked a venue?” After further scrutiny. “And it’s this weekend?” This is crazy. I twirl my hair between my fingers. A distraction so I wouldn’t ball them into a fist and strike Aiden.

  He nods, amused by it all. Aiden was the IT at Xavier University, all the girls wanted to be with him, and all the guys wanted to be him.

  And because he made it known early on that I was his best friend everyone lined up to kiss my ass, the girls, they all thought I would put in a good word for them.

  I’ve never wanted the spotlight; the background wasn’t such a bad place to occupy the time. As a bonus, no one made fun of me for always wearing gloves or being distant, at least they didn’t to my face. I was glad I had Aiden but living how I lived taught me how to be a tough and a spunky cookie.

  “Why can’t it be a small and intimate gathering?” My frown deepens as he suppresses an eye roll at my pleading attempt.

  “Oh, so you want intimacy now,” he teases me.

  “You know what I mean. Check this out.” I scoot closer so he could see my phone. “People are buying plane tickets and booking hotels. As amazing as the place, you booked is, it won’t hold thousands upon thousands of p
eople. The city of New Orleans is crazy enough. You add out-of-town crazy, and you get a disaster.”

  He spits out his wine laughing. I lean back on the kitchen isle with my arms cross and eyes narrowed at him.

  His hands fly up, as he gathers his composure. “I just want the best for you,” his voice was like silk, and with that, how can I stay mad at him?

  He looks me over. “Don’t you dare think about wearing anything from that wardrobe of yours?” I huff, drumming my fingers on the side of my glass.

  “What’s amiss with my attire?” His eyes examine me from head to toe again in my yoga pants and silk bodice, which makes me self-consciously inspect myself. “It’s nighttime, and I was asleep.”

  Jeez, give me a break.

  “I’ll take you shopping and style you from head to toe and do something with that hair of yours,” he says cringing.

  I swing my head back and forth, making my hair sway from side to side just to get under his skin even more.

  He’s only complaining because he has to wash, dry, and style it for me, a task that takes all day. He knows his stuff. A straight man with taste and I reap the benefit.

  2

  W hy Aiden chose the day of the book signing and party to go shopping and do my hair is beyond me. Aiden and shopping was horrible. I had to try on at least fifteen outfits before he chose the one that would be “perfect” for tonight’s event. I still didn’t know what to think about it. Too much skin for my taste, sure it stressed my curves and made me look professional, but it was outside my scope of comfort.

  The fashion horror didn’t end there; it took us another two hours to find full-length gloves to match my outfit and then he had the nerve to rush me. We decided on a black silk pair with rhinestones going up the outer sides of them; they melded with my skin and were soft.

  His groans and sighs were constant, but it wasn’t my fault he spent the entire night before hosting a party and came to my house at three in the morning drunk. Which caused us to get a late start.

  After he finished my hair in record time, I’m left with an hour and a half to shower, get dressed, and head to La Louisiane.