In a world where mythical creatures walk among us, Rachel discovers she is no ordinary woman but the Aphrodite-a being of immense power. As she grapples with her newfound abilities, she finds love in the arms of Vlad, a creature like her but with hi...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
2015
Rachel jolted upright, her heart racing as the alarm blared. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead as she struggled to catch her breath. It was another one of those strange dreams - a vision of a menacing beast chasing her. But this time, she was trapped in a tight dress and a constricting corset that hindered her escape. In the dream, the beast had arrived with an army, and they had launched a brutal attack on the castle walls. Amid the unfolding chaos, Rachel scrambled up the stairs, her dress tangling at her legs, hindering her escape. Meanwhile, men adorned in kilts swiftly drew their weapons, prepared for battle. The air was filled with the echoes of explosions and the metallic ring of swords meeting in combat.
Rachel endeavoured to grasp the fleeting fragments of her dream before they dissipated. She yearned to decode its mystery, to uncover the reason it haunted her nights. The struggle to recall the dream's final moments was intense — the moment she had taken that daring leap from the castle's ancient walls to the jagged cliffs awaiting below.
Finally silencing the blaring alarm clock, Rachel welcomed the room's sudden silence. She inhaled deeply, attempting to dispel the dread lingering from her dream. Aware of the demanding day ahead, she resolved not to let the nightmare cloud her focus at work.
She tossed aside the blanket and prepared for another long day at work. "Shit, that felt so real," she muttered. For the third time this week, disturbing dreams had caused her to oversleep.
"Of all days to be late," she grumbled as she made her way to the bathroom.
Her hands trembled as she attempted to apply her eyeliner, prompting her to take a deep breath in an effort to soothe her frazzled nerves. She swept blush across her cheeks, her pallid complexion betraying the sleepless nights and absence of sunlight. Her lips, naturally vivid, appeared as though she had already applied lipstick. Tying her red hair into a messy bun, her phone chimed—a message from her manager. She was late, sparking his concern. The presentation, the crucial pitch, was scheduled first thing that morning.
Swiftly donning a white collared shirt and grey skirt, she checked her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze wandered to the small landscape painting she'd created, inspired by a particularly vivid dream. It depicted a group on horseback traversing lush, green hills, their faces obscured, black cloaks draping them, hoods drawn over their heads, with the hilts of swords just visible. She longed for the day her art could sustain her, freeing her from the corporate grind. Shaking off the thought, she dashed to the kitchen, snatched an apple, gathered her essentials, and sped out the door.
****
Seated at her desk, she attacked the keyboard with intensity, still rattled from the morning's events. The train's delay, exacerbated by the oppressive heat, had not only left her with embarrassing sweat marks but also made her late for the crucial client pitch. Despite her efforts to compose herself, her confidence wavered under the weight of her tardiness. The client, though understanding and accepting her apologies with a nod of grace, couldn't completely ease her discomfort. And Lindon's disapproving expression had spoken volumes.
