Heart of the Priestess

Chapter 5

Four drinks in and the buzz had settled into my bloodstream like a second heartbeat. The whiskey here wasn’t great, but it burned enough to quiet the voice in my head replaying Dio’s shouting and Alex swooping in like some white knight with perfect timing and an even more perfect face.

Julia and Shay’s texts kept lighting up my phone, little glowing bricks of worry:

Julia: Did Dio fire you?

Shay: We should talk strategy. Don’t shut us out.

Julia: Rosie?

I couldn’t answer. Not tonight.

Instead, I sat hunched over the sticky mahogany bar, staring into the amber swirl of drink number five, and tried to figure out when exactly I’d started feeling like a weak b***h. Maybe it was when Alex waltzed into Dio’s office and saved me like I couldn’t do it myself. Maybe it was knowing deep down we had done everything humanly possible in Macedonia and still got rug-pulled by someone faster.

And then my mind did what it always does when I feel cornered—it went backward.

High school. Sophomore year. A history project gone missing the night before presentations. My partner—a boy whose name I can still taste with bitterness—looked Dio’s level of angry when it vanished. He pointed a finger at me in front of everyone, said I destroyed.

There wasn’t a single shred of proof. I swore I hadn’t touched it. But teachers don’t care about proof when the popular kid does the accusing. I took the hit, got suspended, and spent a week grounded for something I didn’t do.

Same story, different decade. Back then, it was a cardboard trifold and a missing research binder. Now, it’s a priceless artifact and an empire of funding breathing down my neck.

And the worst part? I still didn’t fight back. Not then. Not now.

I tossed back the rest of my drink, wincing as the warmth hit my chest and spread down my arms. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if this is what defeat tastes like—cheap whiskey and old shame.

The door swung open behind me, a bell jingling cheerfully over the noise of clinking glasses and low music. I didn’t bother turning my head—too busy drowning myself in whiskey and old humiliation.

But then a voice ordered a drink, smooth and unmistakable.

Great.

He slid into the seat beside mine like he owned it, like he owned everything.

“Rosie,” Lex said, casual as you please.

I turned, squinting at him through the whiskey haze. “Alex Leandros,” I said flatly. “Is this where I buy you a thank-you drink? Put it on my tab.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a chuckle, lifting the glass the bartender slid toward him. He raised it slightly toward me before taking a long sip, like this was all perfectly normal.

“Look,” I said—or slurred—waving a hand in the air. “I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue.”

“Really?” he said, amused. “I figured you wouldn’t have needed it, but… you weren’t your usual self.”

My eyes narrowed. “The hell’s that supposed to mean? I met you, what, two days ago?” I tipped back my glass and shot it down like it was water.

Lex laughed, blinking at the sight of me knocking another drink back. “I mean this girl,” he said, motioning toward me with his drink. “The feisty one I met at the dig site. Seems like she waters down when my father starts yelling. Should I just yell at you? Is that it?”

I glared, trying to summon that feisty girl he was talking about, but all I could manage was a hiccup. “What are you even doing here? How’d you find me?”

I made a move to get up, probably to storm off and save what little dignity I had left, but gravity and whiskey teamed up against me. The bar stool wobbled, my knees buckled—

—and Alex’s hand shot out, grabbing the lapel of my coat, holding me upright like it was effortless.

“This is the only bar around here,” he said simply, steadying me. “And you definitely needed a drink.”

He stood, tossing a few bills on the counter. “Come on,” he said, voice calm but firm. “I can bring you back.”

I slumped against the passenger window of Lex’s stupidly expensive Audi R8, my breath fogging a little circle of glass. The low, smooth hum of the engine purred through the cabin as we pulled away from the pub, my head buzzing from whiskey and humiliation.

“Are you warm enough?” Lex asked, not looking at me as his hand slid across a panel of buttons on the center console.

My eyes drifted to the lights glowing soft blue and red, hypnotic enough that I reached out and tapped the screen like a kid pressing elevator buttons. “Ooooh… this thing’s like a spaceship. What do all these do?”

“It’s just a car,” Lex said, his voice steady and flat. He didn’t smile, didn’t chuckle—just gave this tiny shift of his jaw that hinted, barely, that my antics might’ve been amusing him.

“Just a car?” I scoffed, twisting toward him with an exaggerated frown. “This thing costs more than I’ll make in… I dunno… five lifetimes. Put some music on, golden boy. What do you even listen to?”

He reached over and flicked through a menu like it was second nature. A stately piece of music poured from the speakers—strings, harpsichord, something that belonged in the background of a royal ball.

I blinked, then squinted at him like I’d just caught him sprouting gray hairs. “God… how old are you?” I muttered, leaning forward and scrolling through stations myself.

He didn’t answer. Just kept his gaze on the road, though one brow arched slightly, which I was starting to think was his version of laughing.

Then, as if the universe decided to throw me a bone, a familiar Beatles riff filled the cabin. I squealed and cranked the volume, throwing my hands up like we’d just hit the jackpot.

“Yes! This is my jam!” I shouted over the music, bobbing my head and half-singing the lyrics. “This is real music—not that royal funeral march you had on before.”

Lex stayed quiet. Didn’t even turn his head fully toward me. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught his fingers tapping once against the steering wheel. Barely visible.

If I weren’t half-drunk, I might’ve also caught the corner of his mouth twitch—just slightly—as if he were silently, privately entertained.

What the hell was I doing in this guy’s car?

One second, he just walks into the bar like he owns the place, and now here I am, slumped in the passenger seat of his ridiculously expensive ride while he’s chauffeuring me home. I was way too drunk to notice if he even knew where I lived. Too sleepy to actually care.

“I need to make a stop briefly, wait here,” I think he said. The words blurred somewhere between my ears and the foggy mess of whiskey in my blood. The door shut, the car locked, and I just melted deeper into the seat. The leather was warm, and with the drink humming in my veins, it felt almost cozy.

Hey… didn’t I technically keep my job today? I should’ve been celebrating. Dio didn’t fire me, and I even scored a couple of days off. The team’s gonna love that.

Somewhere between relief and exhaustion, my brain wandered. I saw something—no, I was somewhere.

The stone beneath my feet made no sound as I walked across pale floors washed in golden light. The sky stretched forever, blue and untouched by clouds. A single bird crossed the sun’s path, briefly casting a shadow over my face.

The sun. The radiant sun. The one he had conquered.

“Conqueror,” I said out loud. The word felt foreign on my tongue, like a language I used to know. I tried again, pulling the sound from somewhere deep in me. “Conqueror.”

It was like tossing a line into a lake and feeling something enormous tug back. “Conqueror,” I whispered one more time, chasing that strange, heavy familiarity.

And then—

“Rosanna,” a voice murmured in my ear. Hands slid around me from behind, warmer than anything I’d ever felt. My breath hitched.

“Rosie,” the voice said again, closer this time, sweeter than honey, softer than silk.

“Rosie,” it echoed—and my eyes snapped open to the dark interior of the car.

“You’re home,” Lex said.

He was leaned back against his side of the window, watching me with those unreadable eyes as I blinked, finally realizing where we were.

“Oh,” I croaked, fumbling for the door handle. My feet hit the pavement and promptly betrayed me, my ankles folding as I lurched forward.

That’s right. I’m wasted.

Lex was already there, circling around the car fast enough to catch me before I hit the ground. He bent low, strong hands slipping under my arms.

“I gotcha,” he muttered, voice low as he slung my arm around his waist, steadying me like I weighed nothing. “Just hold on. Point me to where your apartment is.”

We shuffled forward, slow and awkward, my legs useless and my head spinning. The warmth of his body pressed into mine, bringing me in and out of that dream again.

Is this the drink?

“Did you drug me?” I blurted.

Oh, for f**k’s sake. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Thankfully, Lex just let out a deep, rolling laugh that vibrated against my side. “What a compliment,” he said, steering me toward the steps. “I can make do without, thank you.”

We made it up the stairs to the second floor—well, Lex made it up the stairs. I was basically luggage slung against his side while he fished my keys out of my bag with one hand. He leaned me into him as he unlocked the door, his scent wrapping around me. God, he smelled good—clean, sharp, like cedar and something darker underneath.

My eyes wandered before my brain could stop them, tracing the line of his broad shoulders, following up the strong column of his neck to his jaw, clenched tight like he was holding something back. A bead of sweat rolled from his temple. Without thinking, I reached up and swiped it with my finger.

“Working hard there,” I murmured, words slurring softly as he swung the door open with his leg, practically carrying me inside.

He hauled me straight to the couch and dropped me into it with a huff. I giggled as I looked around my tiny apartment and then back at him. He didn’t look right in my space. He looked like he’d been carved from another world entirely, one where men didn’t just fit into places like this.

He raised an eyebrow at me, probably thinking the same thing. When he straightened, ready to leave, something in me panicked. My hands shot out, grasping the lapels of his coat, tugging him down toward me.

“R-Rosie,” he whispered, and that voice… God, that f*****g voice.

I pulled myself up and pressed my lips to his.

It was like branding myself in fire. The heat spread instantly, burning from my lips through my veins, curling into my stomach like the first shot of whiskey on an empty night. My heart hammered, desperate to keep up with the pace of it.

And when his hands finally moved—gripping me, pulling me closer—I swore I could feel the sun itself bleeding through his touch. Radiant. Endless. Consuming.

Then, just as sudden, his grip tightened and shoved me back.

“I can’t—” he said, voice hoarse, torn.

The separation ripped through me like anguish. I fell back into the couch, chest hollow and burning as I watched him step away, every nerve screaming for him not to leave.