Goddess Rising by Alexi Lawless Read Free Book Online Page A

just like one of the boys. Besides which, when guys came knocking, Sam never really knew what they were interested in—her or her daddy’s money. So she steered clear most of the time, figuring she didn’t want to end up anybody’s notch. Not on their bed and definitely not on their bank account. Maybe that made her a hardass. But that’s how it was.
    “You should go out with that cute blonde bear,” Rita suggested blearily, still fixated on Chris. “Guy that big—I bet he’s hung like a—”
    “Okay, that’s enough of that,” Sam interrupted, turning over her Mustang.
    “Okaaay,” Rita sighed. “But you should listen to me, jaina . I know what I’m talking about.”
    “I know you do, Rita.” Sam steered them out of the parking space, careful to avoid the drunken coeds roaming the streets, either leaving the Sig party or looking to get into it.
    “Oh, and one more thing—” Rita held a hand up to her mouth. “You should also help unroll my window because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be sick.”

Chapter 4

    September—Monday, Early Morning
    The Viz Lab, Texas A&M
    W E S L E Y
    W es leaned over the light box, examining the negatives through a magnifier, in the cool quiet of the photography studio. At least a couple times a week, he woke up early to get in some time at the Viz Lab before the day became frenetic. He’d spend an hour or two looking for ways to draw out the subtleties in his work, before the lab got flooded with bodies and the subsequent noise.
    Wes loved photography with a passion—had since his mother gave him his first camera, an old Polaroid beater whose film had been more expensive than the actual camera itself. He loved looking at the world through the lens, coaxing things out, capturing distinct moments in time when everything seemed to fly right by him most days. In the quiet coolness of the lab, he loved losing himself in the varied perspectives, the light, and the angles.
    The door opened, startling him from his reverie. Wes glanced up as his adviser, Max Purcell, strolled in.
    “Professor Purcell,” he said, straightening. “What brings you in this early in the morning?” He watched his professor make a beeline for the coffee maker Wes had turned on when he’d arrived.
    “Figured you’d be here,” Purcell replied as he poured two cups of coffee.
    “You looking for me?” Wes asked, curious.
    Purcell smiled as he handed Wes a mug. “Why are you the first one in here most days, Elliott?” he asked.
    Wes accepted the drink with thanks. “I like the quiet, I guess. No need to tangle with anyone else over the equipment.”
    “Nah, that ain’t it,” Purcell replied with his thick Texan drawl. “You come in here because you have a passion for it, Wes. You’re in here first thing most mornings because photography is your religion, and you need your private time to worship.”
    Wes laughed softly into his mug.
    “What?” Purcell asked, peering at him over his horn-rimmed glasses.
    “Guess that makes you my preacher then.”
    “Aw, hell.” Purcell chuckled. “Don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of being holy.”
    “Want to look at some of the early negatives and tell me what you think?” Wes asked, gesturing toward the light box.
    “Sure,” Purcell replied, setting down his coffee as he leaned over the box. He remained silent as he examined Wes’s work, going through each frame carefully. Wes admired the man’s artistic eye and technical skills. Purcell’d been a freelance photojournalist for years before becoming a professor. He’d even had a couple shots make it into TIME magazine back in the day.
    “You got chops, kid,” Purcell murmured after a moment. “Got a natural eye, and your lighting technique is nearly there.” He straightened and looked Wes directly in the eye. “But you lack discipline. These shots are sound, but they’re not pushing the envelope.” And Purcell was honest—almost brutally so.
    Wes looked at him. “I