From Deities

By: Mary Ting

(Descendant Prophecies Book 2)




“Sky.”

“Dad?” I murmured, and swallowed nervously.

“Sky.” I heard Mason call my name soon after, but I couldn’t turn to him for even a split second, for fear the stranger would disappear. Instead, I placed my hand on Mason’s arm, letting him know I had heard him. As I waited to hear the answer from the stranger who was standing just a few yards away, my heart pounded out of control and I was frozen in place.

“Sky,” the stranger called softly again.

Though I recognized his voice this time, the voice that sang to me many times before I fell asleep, I had to be sure. “Is that you, Dad?” Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe, and unexpected tears pooled in my eyes from the possibilities after all these years. However, I needed to guard my heart just in case it wasn’t my dad. I didn’t want to be disappointed, but at the same time, I didn’t know what I would do or say if it was him. A part of me wondered if I was dreaming, because it seemed so surreal, but I knew for a fact that I wasn’t.

The stranger took off his black fedora and took a step toward me. It was dark, but the light post was just enough to highlight his body. “Sky, it’s me. Your dad.”

Before he could take another step, Mason stepped in front of me, tightly gripping my arm, preparing to bolt us out of there. I saw the little sparks on the tips of his fingers, but only I could see them since they were curled inward.

“It’s okay, Mason. It’s my father,” I said, but the words barely left my mouth. They got caught in my throat as tears threatened to fall, but I refused to cry. I would not let him know how much I’d missed him, how much I’d ached for him, how heartbroken I was when he left. And how all those nights I’d cried myself to sleep from his absence.

When Mason slowly took a step back, giving me a clear view, my father rushed to stand in front of me. He embraced me tightly and held me for what seemed like an eternity. I felt his body lightly shudder, and I didn’t know what to do.

Stunned by his affection and the familiarity of his scent, confirming he was my dad, my body stiffened with my arms dangling, unsure of how to respond. It should feel natural to wrap my arms around him, but I couldn’t. The last time I had hugged him was ten years ago, when I was eight. My empty heart had blocked the love for my dad to the extent that I felt stone cold toward him.

Backing away, he continued to keep his eyes on me. “I’m sorry for showing up like this, but I didn’t have a choice. We need to talk, but not here and not now. Someone might be watching us.”

He was sorry? After all these years, this was all he had to say to me? Although I was fuming with anger, I had to let it go, especially since there was a possibility that he might be right…someone might be watching us.

“When and where?” I asked, feeling like there was a lump in my throat.

Mason turned toward me with a questioning look, most likely wanting to be included when this happened; he was protective of me that way. It would have been polite to introduce Mason, but I didn’t want to. My father didn’t deserve to know anyone in my life, and Mason wasn’t just anyone.

“How about my place?” Mason intervened.

“Okay,” Dad agreed. “This Friday at eight. I’ll see you then.” Placing his hat back on his head, he gave a nervous smile and started to walk away.

“Wait,” I said out loud, stopping him in his tracks. “You don’t know where he lives.” A part of me wondered if he even intended to meet us at all. Knowing his past, I doubted he would.

Dad turned. “I know where he lives.”





“He’s been watching us, or just me,” I concluded, pacing in my bedroom, seething from anger and frustration. But for how long was the question. How could my dad expect me to wait a week when it had been ten long, dreadful years? What was another week to him?

“I understand why you’re upset. I’m sure he has a good explanation. Don’t let him get to you like this.” Mason was spread out on my bed with his arms tucked behind his head. Seeing the curve of his muscles flexed made him look so incredibly delicious that it stopped me from thinking about my dad for a second. Mason’s body took up the full length of my bed. Under the plain T-shirt, his ripped muscles took shape, and his wicked smile caused all sorts of sparks inside of me. “Come here and lay next to me. I’ll make you feel better.” His tone was sweet, yet playful, adding another level of excitement in me.

Top Books