Tempting Fate [Anthology]

TEMPTING FATE

an anthology of erotic romance by

Kara Fey Rena Marks Melissa Schroeder Kally Jo Surbeck

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Phaze 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222 This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. eBook ISBN 1-59426-599-2 Tempting Fate A Rogue Soul © 2006 by Kara Fey The Fate of Lachesis © 2006 by Rena Marks The Awakening © 2006 by Kally Jo Surbeck Chasing Luck © 2006 by Melissa Schroder All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover art © 2006 by Kathryn Lively Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

www.Phaze.com

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Foreword From time before time, there are magnificent tales that have reached throughout history, marking our past and illuminating our present. Since before there was written word, these stories have been lovingly passed down from one generation to the next. Then came the lost ages, when the symbols, the phrasings, and many of these stories lost their power. They fell from truth to myth to fable. Tragic. Yet, the truth of them remains like a haunting refrain from an old melody with which your mother and her mother's mother cradled the children to sleep. The fables of yesteryear are the reality of this universe. The binding agent that is and always will be what holds us together teaches us the paths we must take. Every myth that has ever been uttered has some grain of truth behind its inception. Now, at the culmination of a new age, we come to tell you a truth. Not all of them, for each man, woman, and child must seek the truth themselves. We—the bards, the scholars, the mystics—will tell you a little something about the sisters Fates. The Fates are real. The Fates have feelings, too. And if you, our friend, are wise, you will not tempt the sisters, for as you know it is never advisable to interfere with cornered women on a mission. "The threads which the Fates spin are so unchangeable, that, even if they decreed to someone a kingdom which at the moment belonged to another, and even if that other slew the man of destiny, to save himself from ever being deprived by him of his throne, nevertheless the dead man would come to life again in order to fulfill the decree of the Fates...He who is destined to become a carpenter, will become one even if his hands have been cut off: and he who has been destined to carry off the prize for running in the Olympic games, will not fail to win even if he broke his leg: and a man to whom the Fates have decreed that he shall be

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an eminent archer, will not miss the mark, even though he lost his eyesight." [Flavius Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana 8.7]

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Prologue What Really Happened All the gods were there, great and small, famous and infamous. They gathered around Zeus' lengthy marble table, laughing gaily at their own wit and beauty. Artemis, Athena, Ares, and Hermes lounged together in the bliss of inactivity, watching, judging, and waiting for a fault to be seen. Ambrosia was had by one and all. First fruits were in and the wine was sweet, flowing freely from skin to goblet. To many of the gods, it seemed a joyous occasion. However, as with all things in life, that was not the case for all, for Zeus was troubled. "What do we do about these people?" Hera pouted. Her smile was slow and beguiling. She gently trailed her hand along her husband's large, well-muscled thigh. "You are a wise ruler, my love. Of that, there is no doubt. Here, Olympus, resides in order, but those dreadful mortals…" Her voice trailed off as she looked into the distance with disgust marring her perfect features. "They need to be controlled." "And who would you have do this? We all have our areas." From the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. "Not all." He did not like it when his wife took that tone. It meant she had too much time on her hands and had found displeasure in one of his own. "Not all?" She lifted one shoulder in a dainty shrug. "No." "Who?" The question slipped from his lips like water from the melting northern glaciers before he stopped to think about the ramifications. Hera never instigated a conversation about mortals unless it was a scheme of destruction. "What of Ares? My precious son lives among them. They pray to him and he has been good to the people. He would rule them justly, fairly." "No one man can have all the power," Zeus began. She bit her bottom lip. Her even, white teeth gently tugged. Zeus' gaze lingered there, watching eagerly as she released her lips then wetted

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them. "Fine. Not Ares then. Still, he mortals need controlled." She walked behind him, trailing her fingertips across the bared flesh of his neck. "You are correct. One person alone would become too powerful. The mortals are your personal project. One I do not pretend to comprehend your fascination. You keep them about for your purposes. That, I do understand. Yet, there are so many and they create more every day." Her beautiful lips frowned and the perfectly smooth skin of her brow creased. "Their intelligence is lacking, however. In sheer numbers they could be a threat. As I said, they must be controlled." "And as I said, we are busy." A smile replaced her frown. "Your daughters, the Moirai. How about them? The four of them would do nicely. Four is a number of power. One would not have too much control. They are of your blood. They would seek to do your bidding for the greater good of all Olympus." "Hera," Zeus warned. His blue eyes narrowed. What was the woman up to? "Of course, they would have to live somewhere else, other than here. Somewhere they can keep an actual eye on their charges. They could not be swayed by the gods of Olympus, so they will have to be put from Olympus." He surged to his feet and lightning ran across the heavens. "Hera! Silence!" "I suppose we could send the Furies." She nodded, weighing the decision. She spoke as though he had not commanded her silence. "I believe they would take to the role of judging mortals and decreeing—" Zeus would not let her finish. He loved the mortals, at times too much. He would not leave their fate in the hands of the vengeful Furies. "My daughters will do just fine." Hera smiled. **** "It has been brought to my attention…" Zeus refused to look at his wife. She had manipulated him. Her arrogance and pride spoke too soon. He had bound his daughters without thought or consultation. Sadness filled him. Hera might believe she had gotten the better of him, but he would have the last word in this battle of wills.

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"It has been brought to my attention that discord runs rampant among the mortals. They need structure. A finite set of rules and goals." Many of the lesser gods nodded their approval, but Zeus noted his daughter Atropos' raised brow. She elbowed her sister Lachesis. The two women seemed to share a sigh. It was as if they knew he had betrayed them. The unease in his stomach churned. "I have selected who will master this charge." Murmurs drifted through the crowd. Zeus spoke calmly, firmly, loathing himself for allowing his pride to speak. Yet he remained unwilling to stop the chain of events that Hera had set in motion and he had decreed law. "Clothos. Lachesis. Atropos. Lucky. My four daughters. Rise." With a flurry of dark hair, Lucky shoved away from the table. She looked first to Hera, then to her father. She shook her head. "Never," she cried. "You and your pious peers will never control my gifts. Nor will you dictate whom I bless. Dear Hera, this is your manipulation, do not doubt we know. For this, no god will again have my blessing." With that, she vanished. Hera rose. She snapped her fingers and the Furies materialized at her side. "Let her go, Hera. She has my protection." Zeus raised his voice. "No one will touch Lucky. Am I clear?" He waited for all to acknowledge his decree. "No one will touch any of my daughters." Hera inclined her head. "As you wish." The Furies hissed. "My daughters." Zeus turned to the remaining three: all beautiful, all defiant, all brilliantly angry. "This means a heavier burden now rests upon your shoulders." "What if we too leave?" Lachesis asked. "You are protected from any god save me. If you choose to run from this mandate, I will destroy you," Zeus replied. "And if we stay?" Clothos asked. "I will give you my decree and be done with it. After I offer you your calling, not even I can interfere." Atropos was not looking at him, but rather staring straight at Hera. "And then what, Father? If we accept this decree what will happen to us?" "Lucky cannot be touched, but from this day forward she is cursed. She will never again set foot in these hallowed halls. The only luck she

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will have is that which she can find on Earth living as one among the mortals. One of them, yet not." "And the word is law," came the resounding reply from the gods. "The mortals need you," Hera intoned. Zeus locked his hands behind his back. He was angry. Hera was a jealous woman and wanted his attentions focused on her alone. He knew that. At times he reveled in that knowledge. She cared not for the mortals. At any given turn, if it suited her whim, she plotted and schemed against them. Yet, the mortals had found a place in Zeus' heart. His daughters would protect them, they would watch out for them. His daughters would see that the mortals lived full lives, however long or short they be. "And?" Atropos pressed. "It has been decreed that mortals live out their existences on Earth. There they love, live, and die. To see that this is the guided route of their lives, I offer you, my three beloved daughters, as the Fates. You are renowned in the heavens for your unflinching dedication to loyalty and justice. Not mine, but beyond me." His daughters nodded. Oh, how he wished he did not have to do this, but he would protect his daughters lives with all he had. Once they were free of Olympus, Hera would do her best to destroy them and the mortals. He could not let that happen. "Lachesis, step forward." She did as she was told, looking neither to her right or to her left. "You have always shown wisdom in balance. You will choose which elements will enter into the mortal lives. You will pick the yarn that makes up a life. Good, bad, hostility, even love. You will pick." "And the word is law." "Clothos, step forward." The young woman did as she was bid. "You are a skillful weaver, the most talented in all the heavens. You see beauty in all. Where one choice alone may seem so wrong, it is you who sees where that choice will lead. I trust in you to weave the elements into the tapestry that is the mortal life." "And the word is law." "Atropos, step forward." She remained where she was, neither with her sisters nor apart. Just standing, staring straight ahead, and waiting.

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At her defiance, he took a deep breath. "Daughter, you will determine the lengths of these yarns. It will be your decision how much of each element is woven into the mortal life. With your shears, you will either extend or cut short the mortal experience. Individual and life span." "And the word—" Clothos interrupted, "Is our word final, Father?" "The word is law," responded Zeus. "Not even I can undo what the Fates decide." "And the word is law," came the resounding reply.

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The Rogue Soul Kara Fey

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To my best friend Kally Jo Surbeck for including me, believing in me, and kicking me in the pants until I got it done. XOXO.

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One The first time she saw it, Clothos convinced herself it was a product of her imagination. The second time, it vanished before she could summon a response. The third time, the rogue soul hovered before her, shimmering and beautiful in its challenge. Clothos reached for the dark soul's strand but her hand stopped, suspended in mid-air when the rogue proved elusive, and disappeared into the tapestry of souls before she could identify him. Clothos swayed in rhythm to a music only she could hear from looking upon the beauty spread before her—the Grand Tapestry. Her weaving danced in the air, sparkled and glowed with the ethereal power of the gods, of Clothos herself. She took the threads her sister, Chesis, chose for the lives of mortals and wove them with perfect symmetry into the great fabric of all existence. Clothos and her sisters answered to none, god nor mortal. Untouchable. Nothing mattered but the perfection of the weave, the balance of color, the harmony between birth and death, love and hate… Normally entranced by her work, Clothos tried to lose herself in the unearthly beauty, and found she could not. A frown tugged at her bottom lip for the first time in many years. That broken strand haunted her, prevented her total immersion in the piece and synchronization she usually experienced when working on the Tapestry. Her sister, Lachesis, chose the colors, the threads of life experience for each being to be woven into the great Tapestry. Joy and sorrow, love and heartbreak were hers to bestow. Clothos considered her sisters. Luck flitted around, denying responsibility and her duty. Dark and brooding, her other sister Atropos cut the threads of life. Attie chose when each spirit would leave earth behind. Lachesis determined its content. But Clothos was the one who gave each life balance. She wove the threads of all humanity together, linked lives and souls throughout existence in the Grand Tapestry. Darkness balanced light. Love existed in perfect harmony with hate. Everything Clothos wove was perfect. Perfect.

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Except that damn rogue. He was disrupting her weave. That soul defied her, free and flitting about, affecting the others. That could not be allowed to continue. And that meant she'd have to talk to Attie. Being untouchable made all of her sisters unrepentant and unreasonable. Clothos gave up trying to talk sense to any of them eons ago. She much preferred to spend all of her time absorbed in the splendor of her loom. Several earth years had passed since Clothos chose to leave the sanctuary of her rooms. Love and dread filled her at the idea of speaking to Attie. Mostly dread. With a thought, Clothos donned pristine white robes in the style of ancient Greece and wove her waist length, red-gold hair into tight braids arranged on her head like a crown. When facing the shadowy, gypsy-like beauty of Attie, her immunity to gods and mortals alike was insignificant beneath the fierce stare of her death-dealing sister. A graceful wave of her hand opened a portal of golden light in the thick, white rosebushes before her. Clothos stepped through into the summoning room. Light-hearted Lachesis preferred to call it a common room, but she and Attie shared one thing: neither entered this room unless called. And those summons were not welcome. Too bad. Attie could bitch all she wanted. Clothos had a problem, and it was her sister's duty to help her solve it. It was Attie's damn rogue. The fool was supposed to be dead, and he wasn't. Clothos pooled her power to shower herself in white god light and called to her sister. "Attie. I need to speak with you." "Enough theatrics, Chloe. You know I hate the light show." Attie's voice preceded her appearance. True to her nature, Attie lounged on a black settee, dressed in flowing black and gold, looking every bit the gypsy which Clothos suspected she'd spent several decades on Earth pretending to be. "I need your help, Attie." "Interesting." Attie's dark brown eyes studied her carefully. In their history together, Clothos had never asked anything of her sisters. Clothos was always prepared, always organized and in control. "What can death do for you, sister?" Clothos heart beat at a near panicked pace. This request for aid cost her much, and her sister knew it. "There's no need to gloat. It's probably your fault to begin with."

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At this, Attie raised her eyebrows in doubt and crossed her arms beneath the gold medallion dangling in her cleavage. "Careful, Clothos. I'm in no mood for games." Clothos paced. "There's a rogue soul in the Tapestry, Attie. I can summon him, but I can't catch him. He must be dead. If his life strand has been cut, how is it he wanders the world, taunting me?" Tempting me… "He's dead? Are you sure?" Attie frowned with obvious disbelief.. Attie was powerful beyond imagination. None survived her will. "I'm sure." "Let us summon the strand. I would see this rogue." Her gypsy sister rose to stand a couple of paces in front of her. Clothos closed her eyes and called out for the rogue with her will. Palms facing each other at the level of her heart, a small orb of light formed between her hands. She opened her eyes to study the shimmering silky thread, dark and mysterious floating within it. Masculine. The strand faded in and out of the sphere, fighting Clothos' pull on his existence. "Hold it, Chloe. I haven't read him yet." "He's fighting me." Attie's right hand entered the light, and the soul couldn't resist the pull of both sisters. The elusive, chocolate-colored thread danced around Attie's fingers like a snake seduced by music. Clothos bit back her unexpected jealousy and ground her teeth to keep from saying a single word. That life was hers to discover, to feel pulsing around her fingertips. She'd been the one watching him, hunting him. Wanting him. The realization made her frown. Attie smiled, and that delighted look made butterflies jump to life in Clothos' stomach. Clothos hadn't seen that grin in over five hundred years, and that event had spelled disaster. "What is it, Attie? You know I don't like secrets." Attie pulled her hand from the light and the man's soul immediately faded. "I already cut his thread, sister dear. He's your problem." "No." Clothos shook her head. "He's supposed to be dead. That's your department." Attie laughed and Clothos' blood chilled to ice in her veins. "I already did my job. I don't know how he did it, but he survived. If his existence disturbs your perfect little world, that's your problem, not mine."

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Clothos opened her mouth to protest, but Attie's form had already begun to fade. "Attie, please. At least tell me his name. How do I find him?" "Tony, or rather Anthony McLean." Attie disappeared and Clothos' sigh could have sent an entire stadium of people into deep depression. "Where, Attie?" "The one place humans still attempt to defy me." Attie's haunting laugh sent goosebumps rippling over her arms, but Clothos knew exactly where to begin her search and destroy mission. Anthony McLean needed to die. **** Someone was standing over him. The presence was female. Sweet and heavy, the smell of roses in sunshine hovered in the air around her. The scent infiltrated his lungs, his very blood until he was drowning in heat. Nothing in the hospital smelled that good, that clean and pure. That sexy. Tony knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was more than human. Fighting his way through the drug-induced haze of sleep, he welcomed the surge of adrenalin pumping through his system and prepared to fight. "Do not fear me, Anthony McLean." Tony opened his eyes and forgot to breathe. Huge eyes the deep blue of sapphires stared at him with open curiosity from a delicate face. Soft pink lips, full and ripe for kissing, were held in a slight frown. Her skin was creamy, and looked as silky smooth as a rose petal. Hanging to her waist, in red-gold waves of fire, her hair provided a perfect backdrop for her silk shirt and generous curves. Dressed all in white, she could be an angel. Or a demon sent by his grandfather. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?" Tony swung his legs off the bed and walked over to the tiny locker the hospital had in each room. Trying for a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he pulled out his street clothes. His beautiful visitor seemed confused by his actions, and stood mute as he shucked the hospital gown and pulled on his jeans. The car accident should've killed him. Instead, he was going home with a bump on the head and a couple bruises. The doc said he would be discharged today. Now looked like a damn good time to leave. "I just…" When she didn't finish the sentence, Tony paused in the action of pulling on his black button-down shirt and grinned at the hot flush in her cheeks. "What's the matter, angel? Never seen a naked man before?"

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"It's been a few hundred years." Ah. Suspicions confirmed. Definitely not human. But the blush coloring her face, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, said she had missed the sight. He hardened at the thought of reintroducing her to the world of carnal pleasure. What he'd love to do to that body. He allowed the thoughts to show in his eyes, and lazily inspected every inch of her, from her head to her white sandaled feet. "What's your name?" "Chloe." "I'm Tony. Who sent you, Chloe?" Gods help him, she couldn't be the one. The woman he'd bargained his soul to trap was hideous, evil, and heartless. She'd sentenced his mortal father to death without blinking an eye. This angelic face, those love-starved eyes, couldn't belong to a cold-blooded killer, couldn't belong to one of The Fates. "No one." Tony's shoulders eased down and he unclenched his jaw. "Then why are you here?" Sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs next to his bed, he pulled on his socks and black loafers, then studied her face, waiting for an answer. She moved with such grace she appeared to float across the floor. Stopping directly in front of him, one small feminine hand reached out to absently rub a strand of his nearly black hair between her fingers. Oh, yes. Her senses and her body were starving for touch. For heat. For more… "You're supposed to be dead." She whispered the words as if they were a confession. "Oh. That." Tony's answer was to rise before her and wrap his large hands around her waist. She was the one, all right. No one else could know but The Fates who'd sentenced him to death. He pulled Chloe's petite frame against his taller one, made sure the evidence of his arousal pressed into her soft body. Something about her drove him to animalistic need. Never had he reacted this strongly to any woman. He wanted her hot and naked. With deadly enemies, and death itself chasing him, he'd learned to live in the moment. "I've never been one to follow the rules. Why should I start now?" Tony swallowed her gasp of alarm with the heat of his kiss. Yes, he had to deliver her to the council by tomorrow at midnight to complete the ritual, or die in truth, but no godly or mortal law said he couldn't satisfy them both first.

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Chloe's body melted into his. Soft breasts crushed against his bare chest though the thin silk of her shirt. Her soft moan of surrender drove him to deepen the kiss, to grab her buttocks and lift her so she could wrap her legs around him. Fire pulsed through his body, heated his blood to near boiling in his cock. Energy tingled along his skin everywhere they touched—unearthly power, promises of ecstasy only the gods themselves could feel.

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Two Chloe shuddered in surrender. She needed serious help. At first sight of his muscled body, his dark hair and haunted brown eyes, she'd been drawn to him. Then he'd bared his flesh to her, showed every inch of skin she now craved to touch. That need tightened her hands into fists in his shirt collar, in his hair, and was unnatural. This was not the first time she'd battled physical hungers. But, always in the past she'd been the victor. Tony had swept away every thought with the heat of his body and the sensual dance of his tongue in her mouth. Tearing her mouth from his, she pushed at his chest. "Enough." She was here to ensure his death, not spread her legs and ride him, plead like a love-starved human. "I disagree," Tony whispered the words against her throat and continued to nibble his way from her jaw to her shoulder. The soft glide of his lips and his hot breath trailing along her collarbone made her sag against him. Bending her backward, Tony offered up her braless nipples to his mouth. He bit lightly and kissed away the ache. "I want you naked and wet. I want to ride you until you beg for release. But I don't force myself on women, especially if they want me dead." Gods, she was hopeless. Now she remembered why she didn't come to the mortal world with its wicked temptations. Chloe closed her eyes and fought the unexpected sting of tears behind her eyelids. Passion. Emotion. Need. All things she hadn't felt in centuries. All imperfect, and painful. "I don't want you dead. I don't want you to do or be anything. I don't know you, Anthony McLean. I only know that if you don't die, if you defy your destiny, the entire Grand Tapestry could unravel. All things will end. Chaos will reign on earth." Tony stiffened and pushed her away. The loss of his touch tore an unguarded cry of protest from her lips. "Liar. I'm simply a thorn in your side, Clothos of the Fates. An imperfection that doesn't fit into your machinations, your coldly calculated little world. I'm free now, Chloe. Free. And I'm not going back under your dominion, or anyone else's, no

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matter how good of a lay you might be. You and your death-dealing sisters can kiss my immortal ass." With that, he stormed past her and slammed the door on his way out. Chloe shuddered and let the tears slide down her face. She'd learned the hard way that holding them in only made it worse, more painful when the dam finally burst. In silence, she stood. Her breasts tingled. Her lips throbbed from the intensity of his kiss. Deep within, her feminine core clenched with aching desire. Rage flooded her bloodstream, magnifying it all to an almost unbearable pitch until she was afraid her small frame would explode with the power. Wrapping her arms around her roiling stomach, she sank down on the bed. How dare he say that to her? And how dare he risk the entire mortal world for his pitiful, insignificant little life? How dare he touch her? Kiss her? Inflame her and leave her feeling like a weak whore who couldn't resist a mortal's touch? Immortal ass? Why claim to be immortal now? There was only one way that could be possible, and she refused to believe a demi-god had given up immortality for him. The air around her pulsed with life, then shimmered as her power grew in response to her thoughts. A white glow chased the shadows from every corner of the strange room. Monitors beeped, strange gadgets went on and off, and the lights flickered. She acknowledged none of it, simply plotted an end to Anthony McLean, an end that he couldn't escape this time. No one had the right to unravel the perfection of her weave, to destroy the harmony and balance of all life on earth. From far away she heard her sisters' voices responding to her call of power. Lu laughed that annoying, 'I told you so' cackle and flitted away. Attie calmly instructed her to kill him. And Lachesis, the serene and compassionate sister, gently reminded her that she had just told the man she wanted him dead. Wasn't it reasonable to expect him to respond in any other way? Probably not. But did she care? With a growl of frustration she cut them all off. That was a tougher question, and she was more than halfafraid of the answer. She'd seen pain in his dark brown eyes, sadness and resignation that she ached to sooth. Tony held the despair of the doomed, of the hunted in his soul, and his pain affected her more deeply than any other's ever had. She didn't know why, she couldn't explain it, or give reason to her reaction. And in the end, none of it mattered. Anthony McLean had to die, or the mortal world would unravel.

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Resigned, Chloe ignored the vice squeezing her long dormant heart and rose from the bed to follow him. **** Tony cussed and shoved his hands deeply into his pants pockets. Darting across the street, he didn't bother looking for traffic. He couldn't die now. Chloe didn't know why he was still alive. Her eyes had sparkled with disbelief when he'd claimed that he was now immortal. Half-god. His mother had tricked him into giving his own mortality to her. Now she lay dying. He'd raged at his mother, commanded her to reverse the act, but it was done. His mother hated the Fates with a passion unchanged in three decades. Now, with vengeance for his father's death so close, how could he deny her for a woman he'd just met? But Tony had made his own bargain. Once he delivered Clothos to Hera and completed the ritual, his mother's immortal life would be restored. They both would live forever. Hell. Hades himself had appeared to mark him as untouchable by the minions of the underworld. It was the first time he'd ever met his grandfather, and he had no desire to ever repeat the experience. Hades was one scary bastard, all flame and power with swirling, dead souls circling him, crying out to him. But neither his mother nor his grandfather had mentioned the mortal world unraveling. They both hated the Fates. Both had laughed and celebrated when they'd filled his veins with immortal blood. But was his mother's death the only price to be paid? Would all humans suffer because of his mother's unrelenting hatred? Damn that beautiful woman and her petal soft skin, her lips that spoke lies, and those guileless eyes that made him want to believe her. Chloe. His body still ached. His cock remained rigid and unforgiving despite the fact he'd walked away from her. Yes, he'd lost control of his body and his mind in the span of a few minutes in her presence. Even now he felt as if the blue of her eyes burned into the back of his head, marking him like a laser sight on a sniper's rifle. "There's a bus. You could simply step in front of it." Chloe materialized beside him and pointed to a huge mass transit vehicle pulling to the curb. "It wouldn't hurt overly much." She smiled as if to reassure him and gave him a sisterly pat on the arm. "If you go head first, you'll lose consciousness almost instantly." Tony balled his hands into fists to keep them in his pockets, to resist the temptation of running the pads of his fingers over her delicate skin.

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Or slapping her for being so damn…what? He couldn't even think of a word to describe her. A small frown creased her brow, and he wanted to kiss it away. Suddenly, her grip on his arm tightened to a vice and she yanked him away from the curb. "No, Tony. No. That wouldn't work at all. What if the driver of that bus does not have that death in his weave? That would just make this fiasco worse." Chloe paced in front of him like a caged lynx, her hands twisting around each other in obvious agitation. "This is horrible. I hate this place. The sounds. The smells. The disorder." Chloe waved her arms in the air to encompass all the life, the activity, around them on the streets. "The Tapestry is so magnificent. I've never understood how humans could turn such perfection into this…chaos." Cars sped by. People of all races and ages hurried to wherever they might be going. The air hung heavy around them, gathering its weight for the next sprinkling of rain. To him it felt perfect. Alive. "Everything has its own rhythm, its own beauty." Tony turned in a complete circle and couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from tilting up. It was good to be among the living. "Nothing's perfect." "Oh, yes it is. My weaving was perfect, until you. The Grand Tapestry was perfectly balanced. But if you use anyone else as an instrument in your death, you could alter his path and further unravel my work. This is a nightmare." His answer was a shrug, which clearly meant she'd just proven his point. "Tony." Chloe grabbed his hand and held it lightly. The touch sent electric shocks through his whole system, and a jolt of renewed need straight to his already aching groin. The solemn look in her eyes warned him before she even opened her mouth. "You're going to have to do it yourself." "Suicide?" It was like he'd just been dipped in a frozen pond. "You're fucking crazy if you think I'm going to kill myself." "And no one can find your body." There was such apology and sympathy in her eyes it made his stomach roil. "No." He wrenched his hand from hers and increased his pace until she was nearly jogging to keep up with him. How the hell was he going to get home? His car was totaled, sitting in some junkyard after being sandwiched between a semi and a guardrail. The car had flipped several

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times, a roller coaster ride on steroids, and he'd suddenly realized just how badly he wanted to live. Suicide? Not in this fucking lifetime. A bright yellow taxi flashed by on its way to downtown Portland. "How about doing something really dangerous?" Tony wrapped his fingers around her elbow and pulled her to the street as he whistled and flagged down the cab. "What?" Chloe stumbled into him as he yanked her along across the street. The sweet scent of roses drifted to him from her hair and he inhaled deeply before he thought better of it. "Ever go for a cab ride, your highness?" Tony opened the back door of the taxi for her and held out an arm in invitation. "Or is this too far below your exalted station?" Chloe's eyes glowed for a second with white fire, then dimmed. Oh, yes, he'd struck a nerve. Good. "I'm going home. If you intend to stay by my side and plead your case, I suggest you get in." He wanted her to come with him, but was careful not to let it show in his eyes. They had nearly twenty-four hours until he had to hand her over to Hera, and he needed answers. Guilt filled him that he even suspected his mother of lying to him. But, he also knew she'd stop at nothing to destroy Chloe and her sisters. Nothing. Including sacrificing her only son…or lying to him. Tony stepped into the cab and settled back against the seat. Holding out a hand to her through the still open door frame, he simply waited. Slow as a snail, and shaky as a leaf in the wind, she stepped into the cab and sat beside him. He'd deliberately not left her enough room to sit without touching him. Now he was both rewarded and tortured anew by the heat of her thigh pressed to him, hip to knee. "You gonna close the door, lady?" The driver's gravelly voice suggested a minimum two-pack a day cigarette habit. Chloe jumped as if stung by a bee in her round little ass. "Lean back." Tony reached around her, his lips hovering a hairsbreadth in front of hers, to close the door. "You really haven't been to visit us mere mortals in a while, have you?" The trapped look in her eyes surprised him as the door clicked shut. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He leaned in and whispered his next question with his lips brushing hers. "How do you make life and death decisions if you don't know what living is all about?"

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"I don't make those decisions." Sinfully long eyelashes drifted down as she closed her eyes. He couldn't get the taste of her out of his mind. Couldn't resist sliding his tongue over the pink softness of her mouth. A soft whimper of air escaped her, and reality faded from his mind until nothing remained but her lips and that small sound of capitulation. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted to strip her naked and take her. That knowledge drove him closer to the edge of his control. He forced her head back into the palm of his hand and held her still so he could plunder the sweet heaven she offered. Their tongues dueled, tasted, and retreated. Her nipples swelled to hard peaks against his chest, drew a playful growl from him as he rubbed his chest up and down to tease the sensitive peaks. "You two need a room?" The cab driver lurched them away from the curb and into traffic, effectively breaking the spell. "Where to, already? There's a hotel about two blocks up." Tony pulled back and gave the cabbie his address. When he turned back to Chloe her eyes held his gaze until he felt like a drowning man in quicksand. Chloe was still shaking. Her breath left her lungs in short spurts, as if she struggled for air. Sinfully tempting, her tongue traced her lower lip as if to taste his essence, should it linger there. Entranced, he couldn't stop staring, didn't even realize he'd succumbed until the jolt of her mouth pressed to his shocked him from his stupor. With his last ounce of sense, and of self-preservation, he flipped around and pressed back into the seat. What about this woman snarled his mind and made his body respond like a horny teenager on a first date? Yes, she was beautiful. But he'd seen plenty of gorgeous women and never had a perpetual hard-on before. She was clinical, cold and calculating if he was to believe his mother. And she had suggested he throw himself, head first, in front of a bus. But, there was a soft innocence in her eyes that beguiled him. Wise in so many ways, she'd been deciding mortals fates for eons, but never really lived herself. Never ridden in a taxi. Never suffered the staggering loss of a loved one. Had she ever been in love? She was naïve and all knowing, logical and inexperienced, powerful beyond his imaginings, but wide-eyed as a small child. The duality of her mind intrigued him. Her passionate nature called to the same wildness in him. He just knew she'd be untamed in bed, uninhibited and fiery. And he wanted a taste of it, needed it like he needed the air to breathe.

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The second she'd entered his hospital room, she'd sealed their fates. He would have her hot and willing in his arms, no matter the cost.

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Three Chloe held in a scream as Tony guided her into a large elevator. Two doors slid across her line of vision, sealing them in a moving casket. Any second now they would hang suspended, hundreds of feet in the air in a heavy box held up by a few metal cables that could snap at any moment. First the taxi, and now this! Hera had tricked her once, and she'd spent several earth years trapped in a dark cave about the size of this elevator. Gods, how she hated closed-in places. "Mortals are insane." "What's wrong?" Tony studied her face, but she'd be damned if she'd show one more sign of weakness to this man. He'd already taken everything, her very existence, and he didn't even know it. If she couldn't do her job, if she no longer had purpose, then she had nothing left. To make matters worse, he'd pulled away from her kiss in the taxi, rejected her. It hurt. Nothing had hurt her in centuries, and this man had made her vulnerable almost instantly. She wouldn't be here with him if she still didn't need him dead. Whether or not that's what she wanted couldn't matter. "Everything is fine." Curt. Calm. In control. She sounded good. Still, when Tony's hand slipped into hers and squeezed, she couldn't force herself to let go. Just as she couldn't bring herself to murder him, despite what was at stake. Attie would be so disgusted with her. What was one mortal life worth? What was Tony's life worth? Mind and heart couldn't agree on that answer. "I'm pathetic." "What?" Tony reached over and pushed a little round button with the number seven on it. It lit up and the box lurched beneath her feet. She swayed in alarm and immediately a strong arm wrapped around her waist to steady her. "Never ridden in an elevator either, I take it?" "I feel like a rat in a cage." A shudder ran through her and she focused on the corded band of muscles around her that somehow made her feel safe again. The numbers were lighting up in order above the sliding doors…2…3…4… Come on, lucky seven. "How do you stand it?"

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That telltale shrug was his answer. His eyes bored into her, assessing and too intense. He was staring straight into her soul. "You really don't like anything you can't control, do you?" Now it was her turn to shrug. Tony turned her in his arms to face him and pulled her close. "Haven't you ever done anything crazy, Chloe? Haven't you ever just let it all go? Taken a chance? Gone for the wild ride?" An answer wouldn't come. Feeling helpless as a babe against his questioning, all she could do was stare mutely at him and struggle for words. Had she? Even once? Yes, she had. And the results of that one encounter had haunted her for centuries. Hera had set her up. And she'd fallen for the bait. She wasn't about to risk her heart, or her sanity, like that again. The elevator slowed to a halt, saving her. Chloe did the only thing she could think of to salvage her pride, she bolted. The doors were barely open, wide enough for her to glide through, and she was in the hallway waiting for him. "I'll take that as a no." He followed her and took the lead down the hallway, lined with diamond-patterned carpet, past a sea of identical doors with golden numbers on them. Broad and strong, his shoulders held her attention as effectively as her weaving ever had. "You know nothing about me, Tony. Nothing." Had that deep sigh really escaped her throat? When had she begun to feel this tired? This beaten? This apathetic? For eons she'd done her duty to humanity and found what joy she could in the beauty of the Grand Tapestry. But, she'd also been isolated and alone, banished from home and feared by all. When dealing with her sisters, solitude was more a blessing than curse. Her sister, Attie, had actually lived, really lived among the mortals. Lived. Laughed. Danced and cried. Chloe had always believed Attie's obsession to be a weakness, a sign of fallibility. But was it? Or did it make her sister stronger? He stopped in front of a green door numbered seven hundred and eight and punched some numbers into a key pad before opening the door and holding it for her. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't this. Floor to ceiling windows covered one wall and gave a perfect bird's eye view of the tall buildings clustered together like giant stone monoliths in the city center. Beyond them, she could see a snow covered volcano rising proudly up to kiss the sky. A sense of peace filled her as the mountain

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offered up its current name to her with a sweet whisper in her ear, Mt. Hood. She did not control the mountains or the sky. Those realms were left to the other gods, and she was grateful for it. The mortals she had been cursed to weave the Tapestry for took all she had to give, and more. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back in a few minutes." He nodded toward the fluffy black couches covered in animal hide and pillows. Then he walked down a long hallway and disappeared into another room. "Where are you going?" Chloe hesitated, feeling swallowed up by the unfamiliar surroundings. She followed him and stopped dead in her tracks in the open doorway to what was obviously his sleeping chamber. Muscular and drenched in half shadows from the closed curtains, he was naked, his clothing in a forgotten pile on the floor. And his desire for her hadn't cooled one bit. His cock rose hard and full before her greedy eyes. Suddenly her clothes felt hot, and too tight. Her feet burned to close the distance between them and run her fingers along every inch of bare flesh. A sweet ache spread through her as she remembered the taste of him. "I need a shower." The sound of water spraying floated through the room from somewhere behind him. His smile was wicked, and filled with blatant invitation. "I need to wash off the stench of death." "Oh." How brilliant! Here she stood, an utterly powerful being, wet and needy and totally incoherent. Like a hunter scenting easy prey, Tony stalked to the doorway and pulled her into his arms. "You said I don't know anything about you, Chloe." He nuzzled her ear and drew her near. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to leave her arms limp at her sides. "Maybe I don't. But you can teach me. Let me in, let me know you." Sinfully soft, his lips trailed along her cheekbone, then down to the corner of her mouth. "Take a chance, Chloe. Kiss me. Live." Seduction incarnate hovered, his lips so close she could feel the heat from them penetrating her defenses. Whisper quiet and filled with warmth, his breath caressed her mouth, yet he didn't allow contact. The message was clear. She had to choose. Existence faded, her world stopped on its axis and held her suspended in time. Every molecule in her body responded to his enticing offer. Every cell she possessed strained forward to reach him, to melt into his embrace and damn the consequences. She wanted to strip the clothes from her body and lie on his navy down comforter, offer herself up to him as if he were the pagan god. It

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was quite possible that she'd never desired anything more. But did she dare? And what then? He still had to die. The Grand Tapestry unraveled a little more with every passing day. When would it be beyond her ability to fix? A month? A year? The life of every single mortal was at stake, and all she could think about was devouring his mouth, rubbing her face across his chest like a purring cat, nibbling, suckling, and riding her way to mind-numbing pleasure. Sex. Great. How had this man become the only thing she wanted? Fear of another staggering loss and betrayal filled her. Pain. Stark raving terror held her back, paralyzed her like a rabbit frozen in front of a hungry fox. Patiently, he waited. And for every second that passed, awareness spiraled tighter inside her until the tension made her arch her head back and moan softly to the gods, to anyone who could hear her, "I'm cursed, Tony. I can't." Despite her words, it was as if her body had a mind of its own. Her arms were unexpectedly locked behind him, exploring the solid planes of his shoulders, pressing his chest to the heavy fullness of her breasts. "Then let me go." Tony held her captive with his gaze. His dark brown eyes blazed to the color of rich coffee, hard and unforgiving in his passion. "I can't." Chloe gave up the battle and crushed her lips to his. Truth was truth. She, above all, knew it couldn't be changed. She'd been entranced by him, couldn't stop thinking of him since the first glimmer of his life-force in her weaving. Now she held him, touched him, as a lover would. She couldn't kill her rogue for daring to live. And she couldn't walk away without dying a little herself. Gods were not supposed to fall in love with mortals. To love a mortal could only end in pain. She devoured him with her mouth, pushed her tongue deep to taste him, claim him, and knew it was too late.

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Four Tony staggered beneath the onslaught of her sensual attack. Determined to fulfill his newest fantasy, he scooped her small frame into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. A hot shower awaited, water already running in steamy lines to splatter all over the Spanish tile. The shower was huge, with double glass doors already fogged by moisture, and a seat built in the far end. Without breaking contact, he plunged them both under the spray and fisted his hands in her long hair as the water soaked through it. Soft, yet demanding, her lips never left his. She kissed him as though he were her life, feasted on his mouth as if she were starving for the taste of him. Like small steel traps, her fingers wound their way into his hair and locked him to her, held him still to be explored. He set her down to stand before him, her back to the spray of water. Still clothed, she pressed her welcoming pelvis right into his rock hard cock and moaned in pleasure. All traces of insecurity gone, she slowly teased him with her small hands, allowed them to wander leisurely down his back to grip his buttocks, urging him on. A hot stream of water sluiced through his hair, over both their faces, and flowed down his body in rivers, washing away the stench of the hospital and the airbag. The powder from that device smelled so odd, so unforgettable, he would forever associate it with death. With Chloe in his arms, he didn't want to think about death, or curses. He didn't want to worry about his mother's bargain with the gods, or immortality. He just wanted to feel, to bury himself to the hilt. Chloe let her head fall back so her hair was directly in the spray. Round, pink nipples stood at attention, clearly visible through the wet white silk she wore. The arch in her back offered them up once more, and he couldn't resist the temptation. He bent his head and took what he wanted. He caught one nipple through her shirt, gently tugged then released first one, then the other. With one urgent yank, he pulled the offending material over her head and let it fall to the wet tile at their feet.

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Tony couldn't tear his eyes from the soft perfection of her skin. The steam rising from her flesh smelled of roses and he buried his face in her cleavage, lifted both breasts for his attention. She tasted sweeter than he'd ever imagined a woman could, like sun-warmed honey and rose petals. She lifted her chest to allow him better access and pulled his cock tightly against her abdomen where her hips undulated, teasing them both. "You have too many clothes on." Tony fumbled with her white belt, and grumbled when it wouldn't budge. There was no buckle. "Take it off." Chloe actually laughed at him, but her clothes simply vanished. "Better?" "God, yes." Her legs were perfect, long and shapely. Her hips were a woman's, curvy and full, not the model thin bodies he saw too much of these days. And red-gold curls beckoned him, enticed him. Was she ready for him? Was she as hot, as near the edge of control? He'd had a hard on since the moment he saw her. He wasn't sure he could wait. Like a man possessed, he pressed against the tile wall and pinned her with his mouth on hers. His tongue dove into her mouth as he inserted two fingers into her core, both invaders demanding a response. Chloe whimpered and pushed back with tongue and hips, both urgent and hungry. Tony tore his mouth from hers and buried his face in her hair. "Chloe?" She was driving him mad with little bites all over his chest and shoulder. "Yes, yes, yes." Chloe lifted one leg over his hip and rubbed her clit against his cock, spread her welcoming cream over his hypersensitive tip. His cock jumped at the urgency in her voice and a red haze settled over his mind, a primitive need he'd never indulged, to claim his mate. He lifted her other leg and held her suspended in his arms, her open folds centered over his jutting flesh. Like a man possessed, he shoved her back against the tile and rammed deep, filled her until she writhed with pleasure and locked her ankles behind him. Her cunt clamped down around him like a fist, bathed him in wet heat, and she cried out against his neck. They were both beyond gentle lovemaking. He pumped into her like a piston, and she moaned her pleasures in his ear, begged him to go harder, faster.

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Chloe pushed against his shoulders, raising herself up that mere fraction more, to slam down that much harder onto his cock. She rocked her pelvis forward, rubbing her clit against him with quick, insistent demands he couldn't deny. He held on by his fingernails, holding back his release. Water slid over their stomachs, down over hips so they glided across each other. Seeking her mouth with his, Tony staked his claim, kissing her until she couldn't breathe, then stealing her breath and giving her his own. He cupped one breast in his hand, the soft weight heaven in the flesh. He flicked and pulled the nipple with thumb and forefinger, playing her body like a virtuoso mastered a violin. The heady feeling of domination, of her total surrender, filled him, satisfied him in a way he'd never realized he needed. But it shattered to helplessness when her inner muscles squeezed his cock, massaged him with rhythmic pulses he was powerless to resist. His legs refused to hold their combined weights any longer and he went to his knees, her back gliding down the wet tile until she sat in his lap, thighs spread wide, riding him like a demon possessed. "Chloe." Her name fell from his lips in supplication. She was a goddess, wild and untamed, and she could have him, body and soul. Nothing on mortal Earth could stand before her beauty, her courage in taking him with such wildness. She didn't answer, just drug his mouth to her nipple and ground against him, shifting her pelvis until his cock rammed deep, hitting the tip of her womb. The tension inside of him spiral tighter, higher, until he was beyond all thought. His awareness narrowed to her body, the sweet smell of roses and honey intensifying as she, too, neared her peak. Then she sobbed and buried her fingernails in his shoulders as her orgasm claimed her. Tiny pulses ran along his cock, then intensified to toe curling waves as she milked him, crying out in his ear, bucking over him like a wild horse. Chloe threw her head back, unable to control her own cries of pleasure. He toppled over the edge with her. The soft strands of her hair absorbed his own cries as his cock bucked again and again, poured his seed into her as his heart surrendered the battered remnants of his soul.

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Five Chloe smiled shyly and wrapped the fuzzy blue cotton robe more tightly around her to chase the chill of the kitchen away. Cold beige tile teased her bare toes into curling in protest, and she hurried after Tony. His black hair still dripped from their leisurely shower, the droplets sliding invitingly down his bare back to be absorbed in the thick, cream colored towel wrapped around his hips. A towel she wanted to tear off that perfect ass. "Behave." The whispered reprimand was meant for her ears alone, but Tony stopped in his tracks and grinned at her over his shoulder. "Please, don't." He held out his hand to her, and she slipped her smaller one into his without hesitation. "Tony, we have to talk." As much as she hated it, the stakes were huge, and nothing was settled. Deep inside in her soul, she could feel the Grand Tapestry sliding further away from her. Could all that chaos truly be from the loss of control of one mortal life? Or had she made love to more than just a man? "In a few minutes. I'm starving." Tony pulled her along to open his refrigerator and stood with her tucked snuggly beneath his shoulder, perusing the contents. "Hungry?" "When we made love…" Chloe trailed off, thinking. Tony just smiled down at her, then warmed her down to her cold little toes with a heart-stopping kiss. He pulled a bowl full of sugarcovered strawberries from the top shelf and put them on the granite countertop. "How about some chocolate milk and butter-pecan cookies?" A large squeeze-bottle of chocolate syrup and a gallon of milk joined the strawberries on the counter. "Tony…" "Hush." Tony placed his finger over her lips to silence her. His eyes burned into her, made her heart skip a beat. "Just a little while longer, Chloe. Let's steal just a little more time for ourselves before we try to save the world."

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She couldn't deny him, or herself, a few more moments of stolen pleasure. For centuries now she'd hidden in her hole and done her duty to gods and mortals alike. Could any of them truly refuse her a few short hours of respite, of simple happiness? With a slight nod, she sucked his finger into her mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip. His eyes darkened to that deep brown she recognized, and she opened her lips to take his finger deeper. She was familiar with his body now. They'd soaped each other down, when they could move, and she knew he liked his back rubbed lightly, his chest gently scratched, and… He moaned and threw his head back when her fingers slid inside the opening of his towel to cup his balls in her hand. Chloe sucked and nibbled his finger, and played with his length, running her hand lightly along his the velvet soft tip, then back to the base. His cock swelled to fill her palm, then pushed against the towel, begging for freedom. "You little vixen." A smile was in his voice, and happiness. Joy filled her at the knowledge that she was the cause. She released his finger and bent her head to one hard nipple. Still caressing his tip, she pulled first one, then the other into the wet heat of her mouth. He'd nearly killed her with pleasure earlier. It was her turn to rule his body, to make him lose control. To beg. Tony backed up against the counter for balance and Chloe hid her smile of satisfaction at his show of weakness. He buried one hand in her hair, holding her mouth firmly to his chest in a silent demand that she continue. Her free hand yanked at his towel until it came loose, and she dropped it on the floor at her feet. Still distracting him with her mouth and hands, she reached behind him and grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup from the counter. "I decided I'm hungry after all." She smiled into a kiss, then popped the cap open and poured chocolate syrup into her hand until it pooled, then dripped, over the edges of her palm onto the floor. Tony didn't move, didn't speak, just stared at her like a man dying of thirst who had finally found an oasis in the desert. Feeling wanton and wicked, she spread the chocolate over his chest, then slid her hands around his cock, coating it like a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. Like a cat licking cream, she cleaned his chest first, paying particular attention to his nipples. The sculpted planes of his stomach were next, each ripple of muscle and the hollow of his hips hers to claim.

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When she finally closed her lips around his bulging tip, his hands clutched at the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing was ragged and shallow, his body trembled, and his voice was hoarse as he whispered her name. She gave no quarter as she pulled on him strongly, taking him deep into the wet cavern of her mouth. Swirling her tongue around him, she licked, suckled, and teased him until his hips bucked away from the counter and he lost control. Tony's hand was suddenly in her hair, holding her close as he shoved wildly into her mouth. Such control she held over him. The thought sent chills down her spine and made her dizzy with power. He was powerful, all male, and she could break him. She wanted to rule him with her mouth and hands, not because she was a god, but because she was a woman. "Enough." He pulled out of her mouth and lifted her from where she knelt on the towel. A protest left her lips, but he silenced her with a kiss so ruthless, so unforgiving, that she was instantly lost. Time lost all meaning. One moment she was kneeling before him, feasting on chocolate and man, and the next he was laying her back on his black leather couch. He ravished her mouth, then moved on to her breasts, nibbling and suckling them until she was the one holding his head in silent demand. But he ignored her pleas, lips moving down her ribcage. He traced the line of her hips with his tongue, explored the bend of her thigh, and flicked once, twice, over her clit. The jolt of electricity arched her back off the couch. "Hold still." It was a command, nothing less, and she felt herself grow even wetter at the indomitable note in his voice. Elbows under her knees, hands locked at the curve of her spine, he spread her thighs wide and lifted her hips from the couch. She was spread open before him, wet and delirious with need. But he waited, looked his fill, and smiled that wicked way she loved. "Who needs chocolate, when I've got honey?" For a split second she wondered what he meant, then his mouth clamped down on her mercilessly. There was no foreplay, no teasing, light strokes. He stabbed deep with his tongue and relentlessly worked the sensitive spot inside her, that instantly sent her over the edge. She moved. She couldn't help it. Her body no longer belonged to her, it was his. She sobbed his name as she climaxed again and again. Limp and helpless, her body was nothing but a liquid pool of desire. He withdrew then, and moved up a little to suckle at her clit. Tony pulled his

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hands out from behind her and settled them over her hips, holding her absolutely still, a prisoner to his mouth. Each pull on the sensitive nub sent aftershocks through her, made her shiver and beg him not to stop. Desire spiraled inside her, rising higher and higher until she was riding the edge of another orgasm. His mouth left her and her head thrashed from side to side in protest until she felt the hard tip of him poised to enter her. This time there was no hard push, no rush. An unforgiving steel grip held her still as took his sweet time burying himself to the hilt. Completely filling her, he didn't move, didn't bring either of them release, just tipped his head back and let need fill them to the boiling point. "Please." Was that throaty voice really hers? It didn't matter. He heard, and his iron control loosened. One slow thrust of his hips. Two. Then he was on top of her, covering her like an avenging angel, and they both went a little crazy. He plunged hard and deep, filling her, too fierce and fast for her to resist. She surrendered to the pleasure and gave her body into his keeping. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, thrust her hips up to meet him stroke for stroke. Hot and strong, she felt one hand slide across her stomach to dive down between their bodies and caress her clit. One touch and an orgasm rocked her small body, then transferred to his. Drenched in sticky chocolate and sweat, he pulled her on top of his chest and they collapsed together onto the couch. Chloe was shaking like a leaf, exhausted and defenseless as a babe against him. Emotionally and physically, she was in way over her head this time. Gods help her, she was in love with a mortal. "Chloe?" His voice rumbled at her, vibrating her cheek through his muscular chest. "Yes?" She knew he would feel her smile. "We need another shower." A giggle escaped her and she snuggled closer, wedging one of her legs between his. "It'll have to wait until I can walk." "Agreed." Tony wrapped his arms around her and pulled down a blanket to envelope them in a few more minutes of paradise.

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Six "Tony. In the hospital, you claimed you were immortal, but I wove your life into the Grand Tapestry myself. Attie cut the thread. You were supposed to die two days ago." She waited for him to deny the claim, to lie to her. She kept her fists buried deeply in the oversized pockets of his black leather jacket and studied the trees that surrounded this park where he'd taken her. It would've been easy to simply create what she wanted, but it was somehow comforting to wrap his coat around her. Walking beside him while holding hands, with her hair still wet in its braid and the overly long sleeves of his coat folded up twice, she felt like a defenseless little girl. "Please." She placed her right palm on his cheek and turned him to face her. "The Grand Tapestry is unraveling, Tony. I have to fix it. I wasn't lying to you before. If I can't figure out what's happening, the mortal world will descend into chaos." "And the demi-gods will rule on earth." "Yes. Balance will be lost. Mortals will live and die by the whim of the bastard children of the gods." She willed him to understand. "Most of them are bitter. They have power, but no home." "I know." And he did. It was there in his eyes: the pain of being banished, forgotten, both hated and feared. She knew that hurt well. In fact, she'd rebuffed every summons from her father, refused to set foot on Olympus since she and her sisters had been exiled. Her father claimed she and Attie were just stubborn. No. They'd been burned too deeply to heal. The scars were ugly and thick. Neither she nor her sister wanted them to be violently ripped open again. "Tell me where we're going again?" Tony's silence worried her and she bit her bottom lip in agitation. He'd told her they were going to his mother's home, that he wanted Chloe to meet her. But something didn't feel right. "We're going to go piss off a couple of gods." "What?" Suddenly heavy as stone, her feet refused to move.

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"You heard me." Chloe fought down the alarm rising like a tidal wave to crush all rational thought. Finally things made sense—horrible, evil sense. "Whom did you bargain with for your immortality, Tony? Why do you want to destroy me and my sisters?" It felt like a knife stabbed through flesh and rib to lodge in her heart. It hurt to breathe. "I don't! I didn't know." Tony grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until she looked at him. "Power down and listen to me! I…didn't…know." A lump lodged in her throat and she bottled up the energy her shock had summoned. It didn't matter now. None of it mattered. She was right back where she started yesterday. Anthony McLean still needed to die, but now her heart would die with him. Or perhaps, she should just let the Tapestry go. "How could I have been so stupid?" A cold stone weight settled over her and she would've sworn she aged an eon in the span of just a few minutes of strained silence. "Will you please let me explain?" Tony reached for her hand, but she pulled her smaller one from his grasp. Gods, she was tired. She and her sisters were all nearing their limits of endurance; nearing the point in time when they would no longer care, or no longer hold sacred their duty to the mortal world. That would be nearly as disastrous as the destruction of the Grand Tapestry. Why fight them any longer? Why not just let the demi-gods have their fun? These damn fool mortals deserved their fate. "Chloe?" "Just tell me who you bargained with for my destruction." "I bargained with Hera for my mother's life. That is all. I didn't know anything would happen to you." Hera? That fucking bitch. She'd hated The Fates since their birth. "She knew, Tony. She knew and celebrated." Chloe paced and tried to think. "Let's go see your mother." "I'll figure out a way to fix it, Chloe. I promise you." She walked past him in the direction they'd been headed and refused to answer. Tony pulled her arm and swung her around to face him. "I could've kept this a secret. I could've kept you in the dark and told you nothing. But I didn't, Chloe. I didn't." "Am I supposed to give you a medal? You deserve one for seduction. A gold medal with lots of little stripes and stars on it. Was

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seducing me your idea, or did Hera order you to fuck me, too? Was that part of the price you paid for your immortality? Did she tell you to screw the poor little Fate? Make her love you? Make her feel like a damn fool?" Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks and she couldn't summon the energy to fight them. She felt totally and utterly defeated. She hated this planet, these mortals. There was nothing but pain to be found among them. Nothing but pain. Tony held her face still between his palms. "I'm in love with you, Chloe." "Save your lies for your next conquest. You've already hurt me as deeply as it's possible to go. There's no point in continuing the charade." The pain of his betrayal filled her until it felt like her veins were pumping needles instead of blood to her organs. Her traitorous heart still wanted to believe him, but her brain wasn't about to surrender this time. Twice now she'd fallen in love with, and been betrayed by, human men. No more. "Chloe…" "No, Tony." Her interruption backfired. He covered her mouth with his lips, kissed her with tenderness and the coaxing exploration of his tongue. For one heartbeat in time she allowed his touch to comfort her, then hardened her resolve and pushed him away. "No more." **** His mother's home was a two-story brick home with sweeping gardens, head high rhododendron bushes, and regal columns meant to imitate Roman architecture. His mother, Clarissa, was a half-god doomed to wander the mortal world unknown and lost. No matter what he did or said now, Chloe wouldn't believe him. But he told her the truth anyway, and hoped some small thing he said would spark the light of truth within her. He couldn't bear to lose her now. The pain reflected in her eyes tore through him like a brutal sorcerer's blade, leaving his heart bleeding and helpless against her. "My mother, Clarissa, is the daughter of Hades and a mortal woman. About fifty years ago she fell in love with a mortal man, my father. As he aged, my mother grew desperate to save him and requested an audience with The Fates. You refused her. She received a brief note explaining that his thread was already complete, cut, and woven into the Grand Tapestry."

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"Even we cannot change things once the lot is cast. Once the threads are cut, there is no going back." Chloe stared at the huge oak and stained glass door of his mother's home, her profile regal and cold, that of a goddess once more. "She refused to believe it was beyond your power to save him. She demanded a hearing with the gods themselves to beg for his mortal life, believing if you wouldn't save him, the gods could." Chloe shook her head. "All this for love of a mortal man." That didn't sound good to him at all. "My father loved her, deeply. But he did not have the power to prevent his own death." "Immortals know the price to be paid for love." Tony stepped in front of her and ran the pad of his thumb over her tear-stained cheek. "I love you, Chloe. Your belief or disbelief won't change that fact." Chloe turned her head away from his touch, and twisted the dagger in his heart. "We have to face them. I'll tell Hera the deal is off. But I need to warn you, Hera has something planned for you. I don't know what it is, she would never tell me. She just promised me that you wouldn't be hurt." Chloe glared at him, rage burning in her eyes. Even that was better than the raw pain he'd seen reflected there moments before. "I didn't know you then, Chloe, didn't love you. I made this bargain, desperate to save my mother's life. Please, try to understand and forgive me." "I understand completely." That was all she said before she left him standing there to go pound on his mother's door. "Clarissa, open this door." An elderly woman opened the door to peek out at them. "Mrs. McLean is ill and not accepting visitors." "Too damn bad." Chloe pushed her way into the foyer and glared at Tony until he led the way to his mother's bedroom suite. Worry hastened his steps. His mother wasn't supposed to still be sick. Hera had promised to reverse the immortality spell, to give his mother back her life. "Mother?" He burst into her bedroom. The dark call of death hung in the air, surrounding her. His mother lay back, surrounded by pillows. Her stark white hair nearly glowed in the fading afternoon light. It was as if she'd aged a hundred years in a day. The shock nearly held him speechless. And she was still dying. "Damn it, mother. Why are you still sick? Hera was supposed to restore you."

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"What are you talking about, son? That's not possible. I made my choice. Not even a god can reverse it." Once strong and sure, his mother's lilting voice now held the croak of an old woman. "She's right." Chloe entered the room and nodded to his mother. "No." Tony couldn't believe this was happening. "Hera gave me her word." "Gods lie, Tony." Chloe held out her hands and a shimmering white light surrounded her. Within the light he could see thousands, hundreds of thousands of threads woven together in an intricate and complex pattern. The beauty and complexity of Chloe's work staggered him. She held all life in her hands, the fate of all mortals, of the world. She also held his heart. When she spoke, it was with a voice he'd never heard, a voice filled with power and unbreakable prophecy. "Your mother was destined from her birth to die making a great sacrifice for love." He saw it then, a brightly colored thread pulling away from the others to answer Chloe's call. His mother's thread. "No, Mom. Dad's dead. Let him go." Tony crossed to her bedside and took her feeble hand in his own. For the first time in years, she looked at him with love in her eyes, instead of the furor he was so used to seeing. "I didn't do it for your father, Tony. I did it for you." She squeezed his hand and smiled. "I've lived more than long enough. Too long. I'm tired, son. I've lived my life. I'm ready to see your father again. I want you to go on now. Go live your life." "But Hera…" His mother cursed. "That old bitch? Don't believe a word she says if it concerns the Fates, son. Not one word." Bright white light filled the room, pulsed with rage all around him. Behind him, Chloe screamed a challenge to the heavens. "Hera!" The goddess' mocking laughter filled the room. "Can't blame a girl for trying, Clothos." Then her presence was gone. Chloe turned and left the room, her shoulders shaking with either rage or tears, he couldn't tell which. "Go to her, son. Go." Tony bent to kiss his mother one last time on the forehead. "Goodbye, Mother." It should've been harder to say farewell, to let her go. But

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she'd been consumed by her hatred of the Fates for so long he felt that he'd lost her years ago. **** Chloe wandered the gardens until she found the roses, then stopped to caress the delicate petals. Life was in these petals. Yet they were so soft, so vulnerable. The slightest pressure would scar them, leaving a dark mark on their fragile perfection. She felt like a rose petal. One that had been crushed beneath a boot. "Chloe." Tony wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and held her. "I love you." The truth of his words sank through her pores and healed her somewhat. Watching a dying old woman give up her life for her son had stolen most of her anger. "I love you, too. But we still have a problem." "The Tapestry is still unraveling." "Yes." She leaned into him and let the heat of his body seep through her. Heaven help her, she didn't want to go on alone. Tony buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, as if drawing her essence into his lungs. "How much time can I have?" Chloe turned in his arms, alarmed at the desperate resolve she heard in his voice. "What do you mean?" "How much time can we steal together before I have to go?" Chloe searched his face for the truth. He meant it. He meant to sacrifice his life for her, for the Grand Tapestry, for the fate of mortals. "You can't kill yourself, Tony. Even if you tried." She kissed him, and put all the love she had for him into the kiss. "You can have eternity. But not here." "What do you mean?" "Come home with me." That slow, wicked smile she loved sprang to life on his face, chasing the last of the shadows and pain from his beloved face. "Are you trying to seduce me, madam?" She smiled back. "Yes, I believe I am." "My answer is yes." Chloe melted against him, nearly sagging in relief. She hadn't ruined everything. She hadn't chased him away with her accusations, with her doubts. Tony tickled the pulse in her neck with his lips, then whispered in her ear. "Can we take the chocolate syrup?" Chloe laughed. "Absolutely."

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About the Author Kara Fey lives in Colorado with her high-school sweetheart, three beautiful children, two energetic dogs, thirteen fish and one snail. A selfproclaimed science geek, Kara graduated from college with a Biology degree, and then decided to pass on medical school and become an author. Since then Kara has worked as a medical and surgical assistant, a receptionist, an anatomy, physiology, and pathology instructor, a medical practice manager, and a sub shop owner. Kara's HOUSE OF MOONS series is also available. For more information, or to contact Kara, visit her website @ www.karafey.com.

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The Fate of Lachesis Rena Marks

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Dedication To my critique partners, Melissa Mayhue, Kirsten Richard, and the newest addition, Viola Estrella. Without the loving support of each, I would never dare to dream. Without a doubt, if goddesses still existed, those three would be.

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Prologue Journal Entry: Last week I had a brilliant plan. I've decided to work ahead. My goal is to advance by fifty or even sixty years, a cushion so to speak. Why am I spending the time writing in my journal if I'm working ahead? I have so much magic stored up from lack of use, I decided I'd use some to speak and let the ink flow across the page for me while I weave my threads of life for the humans on the mortal plane. Unfortunately, I catch myself daydreaming all day. The same one I always have, over and over. The perfect man. In looks, a man to rival the gods. A perfectly honed piece of muscle. Beauty so defined, you have to tear your eyes away. Raven black hair, but, mmm. Lighter gray eyes. Ridges of muscle, as far as the eye could see. Intelligent, wealthy and strong, yet sensitive to a woman's needs. A man of insatiable appetites. Yum. Oops. I shouldn't be doing two things at once, because the heat in my fingers caused some of the threads to change colors. I'm so glad I caught it; it would have been detrimental to have the tones so unbalanced. Such a waste of a poor mortal's life. Of all the stupid, careless mistakes! I could have caused disastrous results in someone's existence. I shouldn't be distracted. I should be concentrating on work; I'm the one who decided to work ahead, after all. I just need to get this fantasy of the perfect man out of my mind. I'm glad I caught the mistake before going further. Now I'll have to scrap this one and start all over...

Signed: L

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One Yet another endless day dawned. It was beautiful in her quarters, but Lachesis never saw real sunlight, not anymore. While she was confined to the barren mountain in which she worked, her private room was magically decorated like the earth in a full blown spring. Yet because it was untouched by mortals, its simplistic and natural beauty rivaled that of Mount Olympus itself. Truth be told, it was even more beautiful. The richness of Olympus was gaudy to her, with the streets of gold and windows made of diamond. Just beyond the doorway of her rooms, bleakness reigned. The rest of the mountain was still in its untouched, original state. The rooms were actually primitive, dark caves lit by torchlight, the only decoration being the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. For some reason, she didn't want to venture into the bitingly cold, depressing dark today. She was, after all, ahead on her work, having stained a set amount of mortal threads. She had lovingly picked the hues and vibrancy of the elements that would work together in her sister Clothos's Grand Tapestry. The baskets of colorful threads were all ready to be given to her sister Atropos—The Cutter. Attie would cut them, then Chloe would weave. Lachesis had picked joy and laughter, births, friends, careers, but most of all she had picked love for those yet to be born. She could afford to take the day off and lounge in bed if she wanted. Lazily she rolled over and slowly sat up, for her sister needed her. Atropos was in a dark spot of her life, carelessly cutting threads, uncaring for the mortal lives she changed with every snip of her scissors. With each century that passed, Attie grew more and more unfeeling. Thick skinned, sometimes even growing harsh with her sisters. So Chesis left her beautiful chamber, and began to make her way to the main work area. Down through the Halls of Eternity she walked, her gait growing slower and more painful. Centuries of wandering through the bleakness which composed the Halls taking its toll. Her back curved as she hunched her way forward, and she barely saw the different time

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eras throughout the hallways. She drew her hood of her cloak over her head, as if to obscure herself from the shadows. Had anyone been watching, they might have taken a startled second glance as her appearance changed. Finally, after wandering through eternity aimlessly, she shivered the harsh emotions from her shoulders and stood at the doorway of the work place. She quickly stepped through the door and welcomed the familiarity of the huge cavernous room split by three different areas. Hers, Atropos's, and Clothos's separate rooms, met in the combined center where all three could visit. She began a slow, methodical journey around the darkened cave, a smile on her face as she made her way to her sister, looking at items that cluttered the floor at Attie's feet. Lachesis caught her breath. The tiniest bits of thread lay forgotten on the ground. She wondered at the mothers whose breasts ached for the tiny infants after carrying them for so long within the womb, only to have them ripped from their short life by death's ugly hand. The hand helped by Fate. Her own sister. "Stop staring at them so," Attie said harshly, her breath lingering on the freeze of air. "I can't help it." "You knew it was on my schedule today to snip the threads of the children." "You could at least weep for the loss." "With what tears? You have a soft heart for women and babies. Had we not been thrown into the role of Fates, you would have had dozens." "And would someone else then would have torn a child from my breast? No, knowing all that I know, I could never bear an infant. A man, however, that is one pleasure that I truly miss." Attie was silent for a moment, as she remembered the last man. The beautiful and charming god who'd willingly broken her gentle sister's heart. Chesis was too soft, and Attie hardened her words, as if she alone could toughen the sweetness that comprised Lachesis. "I keep the lights low so you don't have to see, so it's not obvious." Then she paused in her snipping to stare unwaveringly, her eyes never blinking. "You have a visitor." Visitors were rare. In the eternity they'd been bound in the mountain, she could count them on one hand.

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"Who?" Attie shrugged. "Some mortal." "Then how did he get here?" "Apparently he was owed a favor by Ares. So the bastard dropped him off." "What does this mortal want and how shall he get back?" Attie was definitely back to unfeeling, and she pointed her head toward Chesis's work area. "I don't know, and I don't care. But he waits for you. I have work to do." Chesis strode into her own station, and let the heavy stone door close behind her. She turned, expecting to see the mortal. Instead, the handsome god who'd been her one and only lover stood in her workplace. Ares. Her stomach clenched and she fought to not gasp and choke on the frigid air. The threads she was currently in progress on floated vertically in the air. The God of War wiggled his hand beneath the threads, as if he could somehow alter them. Instead, the threads quivered, like they were statically charged. "Touch my thread, and I'll strike you dead." Chesis meant every word, the usual softness missing from her lilting voice. "You're growing as bitter as your sister, darlin'." Ares smiled tenderly at his ex-lover. Ares was a god happiest in the future, and his speech picked up strange mannerisms from all the time he spent in that era. She'd found him intriguing once upon a time. Although they hadn't parted on the best of terms, just his smile alone tempted Chesis to sin. Of course, she had been centuries without a man so at this point, even Ares would do. She forced herself to remember how spoiled he was, how he was a liar and a cheat. For although she'd loved him, she knew of all his faults; his manipulations. She knew how he bent the hearts of mortals with his incessant drive to win his precious wars. She knew how he seduced women who waited for their warrior lovers to return, or used their grief against them. Long ago, she and her sisters had begun to scry, using their basin of water. With the power of her sisters combined with hers, they found they were able to spy on the gods as well as mere mortals. Together in the summoning room, she and her sisters sat and watched him betray her...

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She had watched him with bitter hurt eyes, as he twined with Aphrodite in her palace. The Fates hadn't spied together since. Mostly it was Chloe, she felt they were breaking the rules by spying on gods, although it was pointed out that nothing was ever written in stone against it. Lachesis suspected that her sisters wanted to keep her from further pain. "What mortal have you brought to me, Ares?" "Just a man who has a beef to pick with you," he responded. "Why me?" she asked, truly puzzled, and only partly from his speech. She'd watched mortals from afar, their reflection seeming quite real in the basin of water the Fates used to keep in contact with them, but she'd never interfered in their lives. "He doesn't like the gifts you've bestowed upon him. As he put it, his life is hopeless. Although, what he's bitching about is beyond me." The twinkle in Ares' eye was sly. "Why would you consent to bring a mortal to me?" Ares was not known for his kindness, after all. He was a user, and existed to fight. The only reason he had ever buttered up to Lachesis was a silly notion that someday she could create for him the ultimate war specimen, a man with no responsibilities in life but to dedicate himself to war. Which, horrified, Lachesis had refused to do. To deliberately weave a life without hope or beauty so that Ares could have a killing machine was beyond her comprehension. The ensuing fight had caused their final breakup centuries previously. Ares' face grew hard at her question. "I didn't want to bring him to you, sweet. I owed him a favor. I pay my debts. So I brought him here as he requested." "And did you tell him that you'd leave him with no way to return to the mortal plane?" Ares smiled. "He never asked for a round trip. Stupid mortals." "Well, I don't owe him anything. I won't see him." Once again, a sparkling bright smile lit his face. Lachesis had spent way too many centuries stuck in this barren mountain, for the smile caught her breath. Dark, raven black hair and a matching black goatee, trimmed neatly to perfection. Deeply tanned skin, he gave new meaning to the words tall, dark and handsome. And when he smiled, the whites of his teeth shone against all that bronzed skin, sending a rush of heat down below

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her belly. "Of course you'll see him, my darlin'. You couldn't let a mortal wander the Halls of Eternity until his thread is cut someday, right? Your sisters, maybe. You? Never. So I'll send him in." He flashed his pearly whites once more, and then he vanished, blinking into the air as if he'd never been. Chesis felt a flicker of anger at his condescension, and knew Ares was lucky he'd disappeared so quickly. To leave a mortal in the Halls of Eternity was not only cruel, but also a clever ruse. Evidence that he still sought to manipulate her. It would take her years to find the lost soul in their hallways, but Ares knew exactly where he dropped him off. Provided the mortal didn't wander too much. Exhausted from the draining power of the dark god, Lachesis sat in her rocking chair and allowed the candles in the room to dim. Then, she reached for her snippets of dead thread, pale almost-shades of color just waiting to be reincarnated, and began to measure and balance the strands together. They brightened in her hand, bringing life choices to the woven threads. **** When the mortal entered her workstation, the room was silent save for the rocking of the chair in the corner. He glanced about the cave. A few candles lit the cold, and everything was gray. Gray, and black, and lonely. Shadows were cast on the walls from the flicker of the candle flames. From the ceiling, to the rock floor, to even the carved walls. Walls with no openings. With not even a window to look out of, he wondered how could one live in these desolate conditions. Ever since learning of the Fates, he blamed this particular one for his burdens. He hated her. Now looking at the old woman rocking forlornly in her chair, knowing she did it day after day in the dark cave under the barest of dim lights, his disposition softened just a little. The room was like ice, and the Fate sat with the hood of her cloak up over her head, covering most of her from his view. Still, in the shadows he could make out that she moved slowly, age wizened. The few strands of hair that escaped her cloak appeared white. "What is it you want from me?" Her voice was a whisper, feather light and sending shocks down his spine. He stiffened at the strange sensations shooting through him. "I want

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you to fix my life." "And what is wrong with your life, Aaron of Arcules? I have bestowed upon you a healthy, strong body. Wealth. Beauty. What did I do so wrong?" Surprise hit him that she knew his name, and was aware of his unheard of beauty without even glancing at him, but still he persevered. "I will never attain happiness." "What happiness do you seek?" "What every man wants. A wife. Children. A family. A legacy to carry on." He paused, and then he continued, his beautiful voice even harsher than before. "Satisfaction." "What can you possibly be dissatisfied with?" Lachesis asked, reaching out with her hand. A hanging thread pulled neatly from the ceiling, wrapping itself about her fingers. She studied the beautiful, jewel toned colors of the yarn, appearing distracted until he could stand her silence no more. Aaron spoke carefully. He'd been laughed at countless times for the complaint which meant everything to him, but seemed so inconsequential to others. Since the dawn of his manhood, he struggled to master his own body, all to no avail. No one understood. Now he was about to share it again with another, once more, but for the last time. "You, woman, gave me too much of a sex drive. There's not a woman on earth that can keep up with me, much less want to." The old woman's hand stilled. **** Sure enough, there was strong wrap of red. More red than she'd ever used. Unbalanced by pink. Not tempered by blue. Where was the yellow? What had she been thinking? Had she been rushed? Trying to get ahead of work, planning for the sixty years she had advanced? Were there others like him, callous mistakes that she had made while she carelessly daydreamed? The room was hushed as she pondered his life's thread, already woven long before his birth. Her shoulders beneath the cloak hunched even more as she fingered the bright tones in her hand. "There's nothing I can do," she whispered in a broken voice after countless seconds ticked by. "I am sorry. I damned you." "What do you mean, there's nothing you can do? I'm cursed to live a wanton life? An insatiable man with a body that never grows old? A man

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whom women lust after, until they catch my eye, and then hide from my attentions? Where are the children to carry on my wealth? Where's the wife with whom to share my life? Do I grow old alone, beautiful even then? And if so, why?" She was silent, her head bowed beneath the hood, knowing every fear of his woven life was true. Knowing without looking that he was exactly how she'd imagined in her dreams. Raven hair, with gray eyes. Cloudy in this moment, with the rage that simmered within him. "Perhaps..." He leaned in closer, as if to catch her soft, tentative words. She nearly gasped at the whiff of masculine scent emanating from him. She fought the uncontrollable urge to look into the beauty of his face. She wanted nothing more than to help him. He was her error, a folly she should have caught long ago. A helpless human she was to protect. His voice was liquid velvet. Full and deep, rich and smooth, it caressed her. She wanted to hear him speak more; to soothe her empty existence with the richness of its tone, yet what she had just found mortified her. He suffered the ultimate result of her carelessness. "I am the daughter of Zeus. Not mortal, not of your earth. One such as I can relieve your desires. One night with me will satisfy you as if you had a hundred earth women. How much relief would you wish, Aaron?" **** Hell, Aaron thought. The hag was offering to sleep with him? "It is all I can do," she continued. "Your threads are woven. Your die cast. I simply offer you a measure of relief." She was, as she said, not mortal. Perhaps a night spent with the hag would offer a year's relief, maybe more. He might have a chance at a normal life without his drive flooding his every sense. Maybe then he could find a woman to love him, if he wasn't smothering her with his desires. "I take you up on your offer, Fate." "I am Lachesis." Lachesis. As if he could confuse her with either of the other two fates. This woman had predetermined his life with the laughable 'gifts' she had bestowed upon him. Then the hag stood, and the hood dropped from her head. The candles burned the tiniest bit brighter, and she turned her face to him.

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Two Good God. How had he ever assumed her to be old? She was beautiful. Smooth, peaches and cream complexion, her cornflower eyes framed with curling black eyelashes, the slightest dimple in her cheek. And pounds of white-blond spirals, hanging full and heavy, down to her waist. "Come then to my chambers, Aaron of Arcules," her sirenesque voice called. He followed her, tempted by the lush curves that swayed exotically, like a middle-eastern belly dancer before him. He dared not speak or move too quickly, as if he were in a dream that he might awaken from. She led him through the endless hallways of hell in which he had wandered previously when left alone. She reached for his hand, leading the way through the confusing maze, and he felt how tiny hers was compared to his. Her fingers were graceful and long, the nails rounded just past the tips. Together they wound through different eras and time periods, until they reached a doorway which she entered first. There was sunshine in the room. Grass littered the ground, as if they'd wandered outside instead of through a heavy door. Wildflowers sprung in patches near a creek, where the clear water gurgled in the warmth of the sun. The rich timbre of his voice was curious when he asked, "The rest of the mountain is bleak. Your quarters are not?" "We are the daughters of Zeus. When we were cursed to eternity as the Fates, we refused to live like the goddesses we once were. We chose to exist in our cursed state. However, my quarters are my free time, the life I had before becoming Fate." As she spoke, Lachesis dropped her clothing. One wave, and her dress slipped from her shoulders. She stood before him, unflinching. So different from women that he knew. Proud of her body, knowing that each individuality was unique; a gift from the gods.

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Tiny, narrow shoulders framed perfectly formed breasts, round globes, tipped pink. An indentation of waist around which a thin gold chain encircled, a locket lying directly in the center, nestled between a perfect, round belly button and a neat triangle of blond, womanly hair. Luscious, curved thighs, slender enough to wrap around his hips...or neck. His eyes rose back up to her face, where a smile tilted her full lips. This was a woman well aware of her own beauty. "Are you going to stare all day, mortal?" she teased. His eyes narrowed at the challenge, and heat slammed into his highly sensual body. Blood poured into his cells, hardening and raising his flesh. Taking his cue from her, he dropped his pants and relieved the strain of his burgeoning member. She licked her pink lips delicately as she stared unwaveringly at his sex. The tiny, hot tongue moistening her flesh sent his heart racing. He peeled the shirt from his torso, exposing the beauty of the body she'd created with her choices of yarns. He was the perfect specimen of male, covered in hard ridges of muscle, with valleys of mysteriousness where the muscles cut and dipped. She was here to serve him, to service him as best she could, she'd said. To right her wrong. This perfectly beautiful creature closed the small distance between them, and dropped before him. Her legs elegantly bent under her, crossed at the ankles. His stiff flesh protruded before her; she gripped his hips for balance, and nuzzled the nest of coarse hair with her cheek. The softness of her hair bathed his swollen manhood with its silky spirals. The hard columns of his thighs nearly refused to hold him up as he looked down. His heart pounded at the sight of the beautiful woman who kneeled before him. Her white blond hair contrasted starkly with the dark hair of his body, differentiating between what was him, and what was her. When she cocooned him into the warmth of her mouth, he thought this was it. This is what he was made for. Exquisite pleasure, multiplied a hundredfold. By this woman. His fist found the soft curls of her hair, drowning his hand in its bounty. He groaned his pleasure, and watched as she slid her mouth up and down his shaft. Warm, male scent surrounded her, and filled her nostrils as sure as

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his hard flesh filled her mouth. Lachesis knew what she wanted, his tortured groans as a hot explosion of male seed trickled down her throat. Her tiny, soft hand cupped the weight of his balls in her palm. They pulsed and throbbed, heavy as they were totally supported by another. Her mouth quickened with greed, working at him as he slid in and out. His hips pumped her mouth uncontrollably and he watched her gobble him up. The tingling of release began in the base of his testicles, still encompassed by her tiny hands as she kneeled, worshipping his body with her mouth, massaging with her palms. He threw his head back and groaned again, the sound deep and rumbling through the warm air. She sucked the orgasm from his body, and swallowed it whole. It rushed through him, slamming and full, and exploded, as hot seed pumped relentlessly from him. She continued to milk him in long, rippling swallows. Even as he finished his climax, she soothed his flesh with the warm comfort of her mouth. Slowing her work to the lightest of kisses. She cleaned him fully, licking from his testicles all the way up his quivering rod, and he felt the tiniest fingers of excitement hit again as she delicately cleaned the tiny hole with her tongue. "Enough," he commanded, when his voice could speak again. Dimly, he was aware that his hand still fisted in her hair, and he relaxed his grip to avoid hurting her. He sank to the soft grass beneath them and lay flat on his back, his flesh still quivering weakly and rhythmically. She leaned over him, her breasts bobbing, her lips reddened and full. Matching the hard nubs of her nipples, as they swayed in the gentle breeze. He cupped her cheek gently, and brought her face to his to kiss. Their first kiss. Her sweet lips opened for him, and his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth. Delicate and then demanding, he advanced and retreated in a dance as old as time. She moaned, a delicate female sound that emanated from deep in her throat. He left her lips to nuzzle at the graceful neck stretched before him. With a hand, he turned her head so the tendons were stretched before him. The moan changed to a gasp as he gently bit, then sucked sweetly at the pain. Simultaneously, he plunged a finger into her silky wetness, and

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she thrust her hips helplessly, pushing against his hand. They made love like the strangers they were. Determined to rectify it, he asked her what she liked. "You enjoy a man's taste. Do you also like to be licked and teased to satisfaction? Or is it more foreplay for you?" "I haven't had enough experience to know. This night should explore all those choices fully." She smiled. "Cum for me, I want to watch your face in all its pleasure before I take you again when I'm distracted by mine." Her breasts bobbed as she ground herself onto his hand, and his thumb flicked over her clitoris, once, twice, three times and she was done for. Her silken sheath gripped his fingers, squeezing them deep inside her as he watched her climax take her. If she was lovely before, she was absolutely beautiful when she came. Her bow shaped lips parted to emit a high pitched sound somewhere between a moan and a scream. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her breasts quivered. He gathered her to him, cuddling her to his chest. She wrapped a slender arm around his waist, and held him just as close. When the glorious blazing sunset approached, they watched it together, still nakedly entwined. Before it was completely finished, they closed their eyes for a few snatches of sleep. **** She awoke to find him watching her. "I've been waiting," he whispered, kissing her eyelids. She smiled erotically. "You should have woken me," she chided. "You need rest if you're going to keep up with me," he said solemnly. "We aren't going to be surprised, right? You live here with your sisters, do you not?" "Yes. For eternity. However, their quarters are separate from mine, we've never been in each other's private areas, so we're safe from interruption." "Speaking of which, what are all the time eras outside your quarters?" "The Halls of Eternity. Different time frames and places. Lost souls collect there, and those souls I assign to a thread." "So when Ares left me there..." "His idea of a joke. He knew I would agree to see you, because I couldn't leave you to wander them endlessly. Now, however..."

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"Yes?" "Now that they've touched you, they won't let you go. They'll want your soul upon your death." "I'll be forced to wander them?" "Yes, until I find it and assign you another thread. Instead of finding heaven, you'll be forced to reincarnate now." "Then I'll have to trust you to find my soul." "You don't understand. It's called the Halls of Eternity. It may take that long to find a lone soul. I'll have no idea where it's gripped you or sent you." Finally, he began to look the slightest bit worried. She kissed his lips, wanting to relieve the stress she'd caused. "Aaron, don't worry. I'd find a way to locate you. And we don't have to worry about it, anyway. You have your entire lifetime ahead of you." He did forget his worry as her kisses became sweeter, and her hands began to explore the muscles of his chest. He was amazed that she initiated it again. She actually wanted him, he realized. He'd never had a woman keep up with him, much less want more of him. Demand more of him. "You are absolutely beautiful," she said. "I'd like to tie you to this tree, and keep you here forever. My toy to play with whenever I please." He kissed her gently on the nose. "I'm beautiful because a deliciously wicked Fate had her way with me. Come here." He pulled her nude body up along his, so that his hip brushed hers, and her breasts mashed to his chest. She rubbed her nipples against the firmness of his chest as he ran his hands over the curve of her buttocks. Her skin was taut and burnished. Soft as butter, smooth as cream. Sensuously massaging her rounded buttocks, he dipped a finger between her cheeks and glided up to the top of the split. She shuddered. A small hand reached between his legs, cupping his exquisite sac. The soft skin around them was delicate, and she bent to caress it lightly with the tip of her tongue. He gasped. "You're huge," she whispered, palming his rod. "Do you like it big?" he asked with a grin. "I like it big," she agreed. "And thick." "I'm going to fill you," he promised, as she slid her hand over his erection. A groan escaped him as she stroked. He made a movement to stop

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her, and she protested. "Shh. Let me." He knew what she wanted. To watch him erupt. He let her play, unable to say no as her hand expertly milked his rhythm. Up and down she stroked, the silken skin gliding beneath her palm. He enjoyed a few minutes of it before he desperately enclosed her hand with his, freezing her movements. "I'm not going to shoot in your hand, not when I have such a delicious sheath to enjoy," he said, his voice rough with emotion. The fear at the thought of her watching that innermost, private emotion that would play across his face when he lost control. He moved slightly so he was propped up against a tree, and then swung her up and over his lap. She impaled herself on the thick, throbbing erection between them. She felt like hot, thick velvet cushioned around him. Tight as a glove, but wet enough to slide. Her inner muscles clenched and released around him rhythmically as she slid up and down the rock-hard shaft inside of her. Her sweet behind cradled itself in his lap on her down movements. "Oh, Chesis, that's it exactly," the deep rumbling voice said as his finger moved down between them. His thumb stroked her clit in time to her rounded hip swirls, encouraging her to swing wider to stroke herself against him just right. His other hand reached up to cup one soft breast. It quivered in his hand, and he rasped the pad of one callused finger against her nipple. She nearly came off his body, she arched so high. "Oooh," she moaned. "Take it in your mouth." He obliged, leaning forward and capturing as much of her breast as he could. She held her body still so he could suckle at her breast, strong, long pulls as though he sucked her soul, dragging and screaming, from her nipple. He continued to encircle her clitoris with his thumb, and holding very, very still, she gripped him and milked him with the muscles of her sheath alone. It was incredible, this much control. As though a tight, wet fist clenched around him from base to tip, clenching him, forcing him to explode. Sheer will power alone staved off the impending fireworks. His hair

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was damp with sweat, his chest was slick and shiny, and between them, where they connected, was hot and slippery with their combined juices. That was when it dawned on Aaron. This was no ordinary woman. Did he really need to control his every want and need with her? His fingers gripped her hips, pressing harshly against her white flesh, digging bruises as he controlled her movements. He ground her to him relentlessly, pulling her deeper around his engorged member, losing all reason with the smear of her warm, wet sweetness all around him. "Yes," he gritted between clenched teeth. "You're snug." Unable to control himself, he lunged again, reaching for something in that wondrous, erotic female warmth. His heart slammed in his chest, threatening to break through the rack of ribs which imprisoned it. It was heat, and scent, and lubrication combined that sent him roaring over the edge. The tendons of his neck stood out in tight cords as he came. His eyes looked into her face, never wavering, not wanting to miss any detail of her as he rode his orgasm. Hot cum splashed in her, driving against her in violent spurts, like a volcano erupting molten lava deep within her passage. She came frantically, before his sensations could even finish. Her head tossed back, her legs spread wide around him, opening her to his view, and her mouth opened with a scream. Her eyes showed astonished shock at the force of her orgasm, and for a fraction of a second, they stared deep into each other's eyes for the highest point of their climax. The eyes are the window to the soul. The deepest connection imaginable between strangers was shared before the violent sensations had their gazes break apart to collapse. She dropped her head, and rode the rest of the waves with her mouth pressed against his outstretched neck. Ever so slowly, their bodies calmed. She sat on his lap, her legs still wrapped around his waist, his body still buried within her warmth. Her sweet breath blowing on the curve of his neck as she panted. Her hands, stroking the slick muscles of his back, comforting him, while their heartbeats slowed. The sky lit with the first glimmer of light. For some odd reason, it felt like impending doom. The final closure of their free night of happiness. "Dawn approaches. I need to get you back to earth. And I have another day at work. Take this." Her voice was sorrowful. Chesis untied the locket from her waist, and fastened it around his

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neck. "A lock of my hair, to see you home," she promised. "Just close your eyes, and imagine your own house." Home? He was here, sitting with a gorgeous nude creature on his lap. Finally, one who didn't deny him. One who satisfied him, fully. Who wanted to leave? What was for him at home? But he did as she asked, wanting to see what magic she claimed. He felt nothing. Before he could tell her he wished for more time with her, he opened his eyes to find himself sitting alone in the grass behind his own house.

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Three She felt marvelous. More than once, she caught her sisters' eyes on her. When she'd stretched, she felt the most wondrous muscles that she never even knew existed. "You're moving slowly today," Clothos said, curiosity coloring her rich voice. Chesis shrugged, trying to appear uncaring. "I'm ahead in my work. I can afford to linger." Attie turned her head, her brows knit together with curiosity. "How far in advance are you?" "Fifty or sixty years." Her sisters never looked more alike than in that instant. Even with their different coloring, for one had raven black hair and the other was strawberry blond. But with their mouths hanging open and their eyes astonished like that, they appeared to be twins, their features blurring as if one. "You're that far ahead?" Chloe asked. "Of course. I never would want to fall behind. So I have a reserve built up." "Did you not hear the law that Zeus spoke?" Attie said. Ever since their father had condemned them as the Fates, Atropos referred to him as Zeus instead of Father. "We are confined here for eternity, Chesis. Forever. There's no need to work ahead. We will never die, time will never die, our work will never finish." Lachesis laughed, the sound tinkling like a bell through the room, bouncing off the walls like water trickling over rocks. "I know we're here forever, Attie. But I'd rather be ahead. I need never worry that way." "Just crazy if you ask me," Attie muttered. "I'll never understand you and your happy, go lucky ways." That night, Chesis was exhausted. The magnificent night before having multiple couplings with Aaron of Arcules had definitely caught up with her.

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She slept like a rock, yet for the first time ever, was truly lonely. Missed the touch of the mortal. He'd been quite the surprise to her. When the hot, frantic sex had finished, he was tender, reverently worshiping her flesh as though she were the only one in the world for him. Just as her daydream lover would have. The thought of keeping him, of seeing his beauty forever curled even more desire in her body. She'd definitely chosen correctly when she wove his looks, his personality, and his gifts. He was a forceful and demanding lover, yet gentle and considerate too. If a woman could create a man specifically for her, Aaron would suit her perfectly. Chesis fingered the red thread that was his, and then brought it up to her lips for a kiss. How she longed to have him again, but she'd sent him to find his happiness, now that his drive was temporarily satisfied. **** Aaron sat back in his dining room, thinking about Lachesis and how she was doing. The Fate had definitely taken him by surprise. No wonder it was assumed they were hags; sitting in the dark, moving so slowly while cloaked and hooded. But not only was she a beautiful, luscious woman, she was the other half of his soul. The bubbly side, the one that kept him from being so dark and demanding. His balance. She was the one person in the world to keep up with him. To hell with a family and children and growing old. He wanted a goddess. Now that he found her once, how would he find his way back to her? He had no intentions of letting her go. She definitely cured his desire for mortal women. Unfortunately, his need for her burned hotter than ever. It bubbled and brewed, and threatened to boil right out of his skin. The answer dawned on him that night over a vessel of whiskey. He found her through Ares, the God of War. He would find his temple once more, although he was sure it had been hidden since the last time- and force Ares to take him back to her. Surely he would, for the years of servitude Aaron had fulfilled. **** A bright idea reached Chesis that night. Why not extend some of that unused magic within her to reach Aaron? She couldn't physically visit him; she was confined to the mountain, but she could invade his dreams.

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She could drift in while he was in the half-existence, the temporary stage between being awake and asleep. The stage one achieved while in the Halls of Immortality. How convenient that those Halls were directly in her reach. That evening she stayed late in the work area, watching over the basin of water. Finally, Aaron blew out the candlelight, signaling his readiness for bed. That was when Lachesis left. She stepped into the Halls, but instead of riding them to her personal chambers, she instead rode them to the mortal plane known as Earth. The bone chilling tingle of the halls blew through her body, slicing through muscle and reaching deep inside. Just when she thought the pain would be unbearable, she materialized in the bedchamber with a drifting, half awake, Aaron, the place where she'd most wanted to be. Her breath caught in her chest as she looked down at him once more. She sat on the edge of his bed. His face was softer in sleep, losing the hard, masculine edge and tugging at a hidden part of her heart. She reached out with her fingertips to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, and then left her fingers on his cheek, feeling the link connect when his sleep triggered fully. Once his sleep was established, Chesis called to him. His eyes opened slowly, slightly dazed. Reminding her that he was not truly awake and aware, but in a dreamland, along with her. She smiled gently at him. "Hello, again." In response, he sat up in bed and kissed her as tenderly as he was able considering her body was not real. When he pulled his kiss away, he rested his forehead against hers and said, "I wondered if I'd see you again." She didn't answer, for after all, he was deep in a dream. Then, after several long seconds in which she thought about it, she finally admitted, "I couldn't resist." "I'm glad." There was so much he longed to tell her, but there was a small part of his brain that knew she wasn't really here. She was a figment of his imagination, his want, his desire. So he kept to himself that he would give anything to be with her in her own chambers, within the mimic of Earth, again. "I had a good time with you," he said instead.

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"It was marvelous," she agreed. "The best I've had in centuries." They each smiled at each other, knowing she'd been alone for centuries. "You live by yourself?" she asked. He nodded. "No family?" "It's not my blessing, remember?" He was as lonely as she. They were made for each other. Yet, he was born mortal, while she was not. They visited throughout the night. Finally, Aaron asked her a question which had been utmost on his mind. "Have you slept with mortals before?" he asked, his voice a bit jealous. "No. Never." "Why me?" "At first, I was guilty. I made a mistake with your threads, distracted by trying to work ahead. Then I began daydreaming about my idea of the perfect man." "You had sex with me out of guilt?" "Yes." He paused for just a minute before saying, "The next time you're with me, we'll make love. It'll mean more than guilty sex." She was quiet, unable to tell him that was impossible. He never had the chance to notice her lack of answer, because something else she'd said just dawned on him. "What is your idea of the perfect man?" "Lots of muscles," she grinned. "Black hair. Eyes of gray, like the clouds of a powerful storm." Her voice became a whisper. "Stamina of a thousand men. Brilliance of mind." He cupped her cheek gently, willing her to go on. "Wealth—" Whatever she would say next was cut short. "You chose me," he said. "It seems I did." "I'll find you one day," he promised. "No, you won't," she said gently as she turned her head to kiss his palm. Then, she vanished. **** He awoke knowing he had to find her. So he packed a bag and

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headed for the highest mountain he could see. Long ago he'd realized that Ares usually set up his temple on the uppermost peaks available, as if he wanted to reach the heavens. It took days to reach the temple. When he finally arrived at the top of the dusty mountain, Aaron was hot, tired and short tempered. He found Ares sitting upon his throne, two beautiful virgins feeding him grapes. Both women were hardly more than girls, dressed in scanty white clothing barely tied onto their bodies. One gold rope was fastened about their bared waists, the other end anchored to Ares' hand. Looped together, they were like pets. Aaron wondered how many times this scenario happened while he was out leading Ares' troops through the battlefield. "Is this what occurs during battle?" Aaron called out. The virgins were silent whereas they'd giggled before, but Ares merely chewed slowly, his eyes focused unwaveringly on Aaron. Then he dropped the rope from his wrist and signaled to the virgins, who turned and left the chamber, the golden ends trailing on the floor behind them. "You returned," Ares said. "No thanks to you." "That wasn't the bargain, was it?" "Anyone else would realize that a return trip was included. Since you didn't, you still owe me one." "I am a god. I owe you nothing. I repaid my debt for your service. Now unless you'd like to owe me a lifetime of servitude..." "Go to Hades." Ares clucked his tongue. "I can understand your infatuation for Lachesis. She is absolutely beautiful, is she not? You can definitely tell she was descended directly from Zeus." Something about the suddenly friendly tone of voice set Aaron on alert. "She's too good for a mere mortal anyway, you know. She's Fate, descended from the gods. Deserving of another god." That was it. Ares desired her himself. Aaron's laughter was brief. "Chesis is gentle and light in the midst of unhappiness. What would she have of your darkness, Ares?" The God of War's face was sullen. "You insult me with your laughter, mortal. As if she wouldn't have me? I had her for centuries before you were born."

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In an instant, Aaron's blade cut through the gut of Ares. Time was suspended as the god's eyes widened in surprise. "You would be the first mortal to wound me, save my half-brother." With a flash he healed the wound and vanished into thin air, leaving Aaron alone in the deserted temple. Alone and no closer to Lachesis than he had been days ago. **** Chesis finished work and returned to her quarters, where she was able to miss the mortal she'd had a few nights before. Her sleep was caught up, and her monotonous life had returned with a vengeance. However, the stress of trying to have a bright, cheerful life in the midst of dank, depressing dampness was nearly painful. Was it truly better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all? Not anymore. To compound matters, it was increasingly difficult to paste on a happy face for her sisters, when it was the furthest emotion she felt right now. Entering the heavy wooden door, she closed it behind her, resting her forehead upon its thickness. Wondering for the hundredth time what he was doing. Her hair was lifted and a hot kiss burned an imprint upon her smooth neck. The highly sensitized spot that one lover had just learned about. Chesis turned in the arms of Aaron of Arcules, surprised and delighted. "How can you be here?" "It recently hit me, if I could wish myself to earth; surely I could wish myself back again." "You wanted to return to me?" Her breath was whispery, hope faintly shone through. "As much as you wished for me in your bed again," Aaron said, his eyes intense, as they took in the sight of her. No, she thought despairingly. I don't wish to be only in your bed again. I long for more, I want your heart. I wish to keep you. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't selfishly keep him for her pleasure alone. Her face was expressionless when she said, "You are mortal. I am Fate. I relieved a mistake that I made with your life, nothing more." "Liar." His voice was harsh. "You desire me. As much as I do you." He took a step closer to her and nuzzled her neck. He trailed one finger down the thin material of her dress, tracing a nipple.

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His breath blew hot against her throat when he said, "Look at your want, Chesis." She glanced down to where his finger was, and found her nipple swollen and hard, pressing against her dress. She knew she could protest no more. "Tell me you want me," he demanded, whipping the shirt from over his head. The most perfect chest in the world was directly in her view, dressed only in a gold locket. It tapered from broad shoulders in a V down to his abdomen, where the lean muscles reached down into his pants. A small spattering of hair trailed further down, pointing to hidden delights. His nipples were as hard as hers, and she leaned forward to lick one. He groaned, cupping the back of her head with his hand, and holding her to his chest. She pursed her lips around his nipple, and laved it with her tongue. His smell was musky in her nostrils, his skin warm beneath her lips. His chest quivered at her touch, and when she trailed her fingers down to the bulge in his pants, he caught her hand. "You haven't told me," he reminded, and lowered her to the ground. He lifted her legs, bending them at the knee and spreading them apart with her skirt hiked up around her waist. She lay exposed to his view as he gazed at the flower petals before him, the delicate pink of her nether lips framed in soft blond curls. Pure beauty, rich and lush before him. He separated the delicate skin, mindful of the calluses on his fingers. Deftly, he stroked the pad of his finger through her swollen flesh. "Yes," she ground out between gritted teeth. "I want you, yes, I do. Right here. Now." He grabbed at her dress and tore. The rip sounded indecently loud in the quiet air. A clean line, right up the center, and suddenly she was bare. The sun spilled heat across her skin. Her nipple, hot and hard, begged for his touch as it pointed upward to the sky. His gray eyes looked sultry, the lids heavy with his need. Bedroom eyes on a face as perfect as the gods she was used to. One long swipe across her nipple, and she shuddered. "You're hot," his voice rumbled. "For you," she agreed.

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"Your skin's like honey," he whispered, and licked the underside of her breast. The tone of his voice made her quiver with anticipation. He nibbled at her breast before finally suckling with long, deep pulls. She waved a hand, and his clothing disappeared. He glanced up at her, his heavy-lidded eyes sly as he guessed at her need. She didn't care. It was no secret that she desired this mortal that she'd created. "You're drenched," he said, dipping a finger into her. She fought the urge to impale herself upon it. He removed the finger, and the tip gleamed. Watching her, he smoothed her juice over the head of his member. With her eyes still captured by his, he began to move his hand up and down it, caressing himself. She was nearly wild with need. The heat of his body radiated up towards her spread legs, and she felt as though her sex unfurled, waiting for his attention. With his hand, he led his erection to her cleft. He inserted himself into her slowly, just the barest inch to wet his head. Then he took the slipperiness, and caressed her succulent nub with it, spreading the fluid all over. When she moaned, he plunged fully into her. They paused for a moment, enjoying the exquisite sensation of being joined once again. To her surprise, he pulled out. With his hands on her thighs, he held her legs spread-eagled. She could see his pulsing, rigid member, shiny with her fluids. Instead of thrusting into her again, he bent and licked at her spread sex. He licked delicately at her clit, and then suckled each of her lips. Finally, after long minutes, he clamped his mouth over her entire mound and sucked. Chesis propped herself up on her elbows, and looked down at the dark head buried between her thighs. His hair, so black against the cream of her skin. Her bones liquefied. She melted, her body relaxed, then it tensed. She imploded. Stars burst in the sky as she screamed her pleasure, her vaginal opening helplessly clenching in his mouth. When all she could do was gasp, he raised his face, and deposited a noisy kiss onto the top of her mound. He rose back to his knees, and she got another view of his swollen

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member. It was deep purple, the veins protruding, and so engorged it looked ready to erupt. He moved stiffly, as though the weight of it had increased. He pressed it against her still quivering nether lips, and they parted for him. He sank in full to the hilt. Then, he began to stroke. In and out, each pump of his hips designed to bring her pleasure. Long, measured thrusts, then grinding presses to reach her deep inside to that special spot, the one that was wracked with ultra sensitive nerve endings. She couldn't get enough. She wrapped her long legs around him, and still wasn't close enough. She let them drop back to the ground, opening them wider for deeper sensations, and then began to grow restless as her body lost control. Her blood pumped, and her breath gasped as she writhed beneath him. The grass was cushiony soft beneath her bare buttocks, and his back was slick to her wandering fingers. She let them rove lower, feeling the corded muscles in his tight backside as he ground and thrust. She separated taut, muscled cheeks with her hands, and he clamped his mouth to hers. His tongue sought her own, tasting and demanding, and she climaxed long and hard, her body milking his. He tore his mouth away to shout at the heavens as he spilled his seed deep inside her, and then collapsed. He gasped for air against her breast. "Am I too heavy?" "Of course not. Sleep." She waved a hand, turning the sunshine instantly to a night sky sprinkled with winking stars. He rolled to his side, never letting her go. They slept, her smaller body wrapped with his larger one. Dawn approached all too soon. Chesis had lain awake all night, aware that Aaron was exhausted from his travel. She couldn't sleep however, wondering how he'd take the news she would share with him. Gently, she caressed his cheek until his eyes opened. "I love you." His gray eyes smoldered. "As I love you." They stared at each other for long moments before he grinned. "We're all sticky." She smiled ruefully. "I need to clean up. I have to work. You'll stay? Wait for me to return?"

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He nodded, sleepily. "I have nothing to return to. My place is with you." One last lingering kiss, and she reached for her cloak. It was chilly throughout the halls.

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Four That night, Chloe found a distracted Attie snipping away in her work area, the door to her chamber wide open. Centuries of monotonous work called for barely any thought, and the constant clicking of the scissors signaling the end of each life sent shivers down Chloe's spine. Still giving her sister privacy with which to work, Chloe sat in the combined center, at the basin of water, to watch the mortals' reflections while they went about their daily lives. Attie continued with her business, ignoring her. "Do you ever watch them?" Chloe called out anyway. Attie paused in her cutting, the briefest hesitation giving away her true feelings. "Not in a few centuries." "What's going on with Chesis lately?" Attie's head turned ever so slightly, angled in a questioning motion. "What do you mean?" "You haven't noticed that she's been a little odd?" "She's always odd." Attie's voice was short, but she left her work area and joined Chloe at the basin, where they didn't have to speak as loudly. "More so than usual." Attie's forehead wrinkled as she thought about it. Her normally peaceful but calm sister was almost too happy, seeming bubbly at times. "You're right," she said slowly. How could she have missed it? Perhaps Chesis was right. Maybe she didn't pay enough attention, shutting down her emotions as easily as turning a handle. "I wonder...she had a visitor recently. Ares," Attie said quietly. Chloe shuddered. "You don't think she's taken up with the dark lord again, do you?" "No. I don't. But..." Chloe leaned forward. "Yes?" "He brought a human with him. And you know how infatuated Chesis is with those mortals. She'd be one, if she could." Both were silent for a minute, weighing their separate thoughts.

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"What do we do? Do we confront her?" Attie asked. "We must. We have to talk sense into her." Always a stickler for the rules, Chloe tried to keep the frown from her brow. It didn't take long. Lachesis entered, the same silly smile she'd worn for days plastered on her face. "Are we all working together in the center of the cave then? Why are you watching mortals, Attie?" It took Attie a moment to respond, the brief hesitation unusual for her. "I thought you wanted me to watch them. You're always complaining that I don't pay enough attention to the mortal realm." "I do want you to watch them. But why now?" Attie stood. "Look into the magic, Chesis. What do you see?" Lachesis stood over the basin and peered in. "See here? This child, playing with a balloon?" Just then the child's shocked eyes stared up at the skies, and Attie shivered. It was almost as if the strange girl could see them. The balloon had released from her grasp and soared to the heavens. "I see hope and love. I feel maternal protection, because I'm in a position to help." Gently, she swirled her finger in the water, catching the balloon in a whirlwind of air that directed the red ball with its trailing ribbon back to the ecstatic child. "There's the difference between us, Chesis," Chloe said gently. "We aren't supposed to interfere." "That's not interference," Chesis laughed. "It's a child with hope. No one will believe that a balloon returned from the heavens to seek a child. No one believes but the innocent one." "And any humans that you come in contact with." "I don't plan on coming in contact with others." Attie leaned in. "Are you sure, Chesis? Aren't you visiting earth to see the mortal from the other day?" Blue ice filled Chesis's eyes. "You know as well as I it's forbidden to visit them. We are condemned to the mountain, damned to an eternal hell without judgment." She spun on her heel, and headed to her own workplace. Fury fueled by guilt sent her fingers working, carelessly slamming objects aside in her haste to pull life strings from the ceiling. She should have confided in her sisters. She wasn't doing anything illegal; she certainly had never left the mountain. But to think that her

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sisters could believe that of her...if not for that alone she would have told them that the mortal stayed with her. That he was actually the best thing that ever happened to her, and she'd wanted him unconditionally. Indefinitely. Forever. **** Sure enough, he was waiting for her that evening. And the next. Yes, his lust was insatiable, but it matched her own. When they weren't making love, they talked. They walked, and he pointed out where her magic could add a hill, or a shady tree to her quarters. They laughed together, and he worshipped her in every way he knew how. He pampered her when she arrived home from work, tired from the long day. Foot massages and ripe fruit, picked especially for her. Roses picked from her own garden, the thorns carefully removed. It appeared her daydream had come to life. Just when it couldn't get any better, she returned to her quarters to find her mortal lover pale and clammy. Listless, in the space of just one day. "Aaron? My love, what's wrong?" Chesis had never been so worried. She'd never before had to think about health, but it was something that befell humans over and over. She never thought something as simple as sickness would dare to touch her lover. "Don't know what's wrong," he gasped. "Do you think I've been here too long? Perhaps I need some earth-time?" "I don't know," she said helplessly. "I've never had a mortal here so long. I don't think I wove any illnesses into your fate, but I'll check your thread to be sure. Then I'll bring it back here, and we'll keep it hidden for safekeeping." She raced down the hallways and burst into her workplace, heading for the area where she kept Aaron's life thread hidden from her sisters. She held her shaking hand out to the air to summon it, and nothing happened. Her breath reached deep into her lungs, and she tried again. Still nothing. She exhaled raggedly, terror clenching in her gut. Beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead as she panicked. She tore the place apart looking for his thread, to no avail. She overturned a wooden sitting chair, and the clamor it made as it crashed into the stone floor actually felt good. Rage filtered through her, empowering her. She glanced around the

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destroyed room. The door to the Grand Tapestry was closed. She made another crash with a table, until her gaze found a closed doorway that led to Attie's quarters. Then with a desperate look on her face, she headed there. **** Attie looked up, her eyes wary, when her heavy door crashed open and Chesis walked in. She'd heard the din out in the main area, but tried hard to ignore the desperation of the clamoring, as if her sister's only goal was to break objects. Lachesis looked like a wild woman, her hair in disarray, and a feverish pitch to her cheeks. Attie knew she'd never seen her this way before. "Where is it?" Chesis snapped. "Where is what, sister?" "Don't play games with me. You know what I want." "You desire the forbidden." "The mortal thread," she hissed. "Give me the thread of Aaron of Arcules. It is mine." "No longer. It never was, you should not have had that portion of it for so long." "He is ill," Chesis said, and knew by the look on Attie's face that she was not surprised. Then Chesis understood; his illness was why it was Attie's turn with the life. "Where is his thread, Attie?" she asked softly, her eyes intent with a new focus. A deadly focus, one that sent a shiver up Attie's spine. Attie held her hand up, and the red life thread shot down from above, appearing instantly in her hand. A feat that Chesis could no longer do, not now that it was Attie's turn with the life. "Give it back to me." "I cannot. You know that. It is mine now." "I'm your sister," she whispered through tear-stained eyes. "You would kill the man I love?" The tears threatened to overflow from Attie's betrayal. "I am Fate, as you are yourself. We do not fall in love, Chesis. Especially not with mortals." She raised the scissors to the thinned spot of the thread. "No!" Lachesis screamed, as she dove for the scissors. Her fingers grabbed the scissors, but it was too late. The sharp edge of the blade skimmed along the broken thread, shredding it in half. The

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tiniest sliver of red-tinged thread floated down, like a dry drop of blood, to the floor. Finally, some of the ice chipped from Attie's heart as she watched her sister try forlornly to hold the two threads together. A futile effort, for it was only a matter of time. When separated, both solid pieces of thread vanished into the air, signaling the demise of life. Chesis collapsed. Her sobs echoed through the caverns in which they lived, huge heart-wrenching gulps, the tears flowing down her cheeks in rivulets. Attie grabbed for her sister, holding her sobbing head to her breast even as Chloe burst into the room. And for once, Attie rocked Lachesis, while Chloe held them both. Lucky, the forgotten sister, was nowhere to be found. Later that night Chesis returned to her quarters with a heavy heart, knowing he would no longer be waiting. She dreamed in her bed under the stars that night. Dreamed of Aaron caressing her jaw, brushing the hair from her brow, comforting her even now during her darkest hour, just as he did during their short life together. Depositing sweet kisses to her lips. All the more sad when she awoke and realized she'd never feel his kisses again. For that was all it was. A dream. Aaron was no more and no longer. Chesis would never again be able to sleep in these chambers which held the precious memories of him. **** Now they thought to punish her. It wasn't enough that they doused her light, her laughter, her love. Hera organized a trial before the shock of Aaron's death could even dissipate. Although the Olympian gods would be present, they no longer had any power over the ancient Fates. The Fates had long ago grown in strength, so most of the gods would present as witnesses only. Unknown to Lachesis, Attie and Chloe were having a meeting of their own before the tribunal would begin. "It's easy to see, she won't get over him. She'll mope until she grows fainter and fainter, then she'll just fade away to nothing," Attie said. "Especially if she's in confinement," Chloe agreed. "Hera's bringing forth the charge. There's no way out of it."

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"Maybe we can manipulate the punishment." "How do you mean?" "Ares can perhaps sway the judgment. Maybe talk to Hera. She's his mother, and personally responsible for spoiling him." "He'll never agree to help us if he knows what we want." "He may care enough about Chesis to help." "The only one he cares about is himself. That's why even Chesis saw the light and dumped him." "Nevertheless, he's our only hope." "Let's bring him forth then, but I still say he'll refuse." Chloe was calm in the face of Attie's stubbornness. "We have grown extremely strong over the centuries, by not using our goddess powers. They have accumulated, have they not? We have never pushed the issue, but do you not hear the whisperings of fear from the others?" She could see by the look on Attie's face that she was aware of exactly what Chloe spoke. As she continued her conversation, Chloe reached for a cauldron, setting it upon the hearth. "What will you do?" "We will not ask Ares to visit. We will summon him. It is out of his control." This, Attie could handle. She smiled grimly, and helped her sister cast the spell to force the powerful god to them. It was easier than she imagined, and much more satisfying. He materialized spitting mad, a swirl of rage heating the frigid air. "What the hell is this? Summoning me as though I am a mere mortal?" "We weren't sure you'd come if we'd asked nicely," Chloe said, her voice ever reasonable. "Ever here of trying, doll?" he returned, contempt showing as a sneer on his handsome face. "Why give you the chance to be nasty?" Attie countered. "Well, if nasty's what you want," he said, a knowing leer already evident. Chloe was done playing. "Chesis is in trouble, Ares." "What kind of trouble?" "She's on trial, charges brought by your mother." The contempt in her voice let him know how grateful she was that she and her sisters were not born of the woman. Ares sucked in a breath. "Did you two ever stop to think that

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perhaps Chesis is guilty? She could have had me, a god, had she only snapped her fingers. Instead, she played with a mortal's life when she was to protect them at all costs." "Love can't be chosen," Chloe whispered, and Attie's eyes shot to her sister. For what did Chloe know of love? "Surely you can't believe your mother would be fair," Attie said. "No, she won't," he agreed. "But what's in it for me?" "Damn you," Attie muttered. "I knew we shouldn't have bothered. You'll never think of anyone but yourself." "Come on, ladies. You're the Fates. You think I'm not going to have you promise me something in return?" "You arrogant little—" Attie exclaimed. Ares tsked. "Now, now. You want a favor for your sister; I want a favor owed to me. Is that really so bad?" Chloe was dumbfounded. She'd truly thought Ares would come through, for although he was selfish and spoiled, Chesis had once loved something there. There had to have been a spot of goodness in him somewhere, for Chesis wouldn't have loved someone for his good looks alone. Then again, Chesis gave up on him, did she not? Chloe placed her hand on Attie's shoulder, halting her from spewing the hot words she was about to unleash. "No, Attie, we'll let him leave. I don't know what Chesis saw in him, but obviously it's no longer there." "Did you ever truly love Chesis, Ares?" Attie asked, her voice harsh as it rang through the cavern. There was a moment's silence while her voice echoed from the walls. All three in the room were silent as they stared at each other. "Perhaps," he conceded finally. "As much as I am able." "Then you will do exactly as we say, and never speak a word of this." Ares flashed from the air without ever voicing a reply. And materialized deep in Mount Olympus, his mother's private chambers. "My son," Hera exclaimed, true joy for once on her face. "What brings you to me?" "Oh, I just thought you and I should have a little chat, Mother," Ares replied, a sly smile on his.

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Five Gods and goddesses were present in the Great Hall. Its splendor was unrivaled today, but then it was always decorated for its supreme status. Huge, billowing curtains of the finest silk hung from ceiling to floor, softening the harsh glitter of the pure gold which made up the floors. The sweetest ambrosia was served, the goblets made from the rarest precious gemstones. One of ruby, one of emerald, sapphire and diamond. Priceless, the sole purpose to enhance the flavor of the nectar inside. And the drink itself! No one served ambrosia like Zeus. Its taste swept the palate like bubbles of joy tingling through the body. It lingered on the tongue, and cleansed the soul. It was dispensed freely, also. Almost as though it were a feast fit for a wedding. Murmurs echoed throughout the immense room as several wondered why they had been gathered. Oh, they knew Hera was indicting someone before the tribunal of the Olympian gods, but who was anybody's guess. Another curiosity was the presence of the three Fates. Odd that they should be here at all. They sat mutely, frozen almost, as though centuries in their mountain had destroyed any and all social skills for the beautiful sisters. Finally, when the noise level rose even higher with the euphoria of the ambrosia, did Zeus speak. "We are here to discuss the situation of my daughter, Lachesis," he said, his powerful voice rumbling and silencing the whispered buzz of the crowd. Hera narrowed her eyes. It was not necessary to mention that Lachesis the Fate was his daughter, and especially not to emphasize it with his tone of voice. Unless, he was reminding those responsible to go easy on her. She hated all his children from other women. She would not allow it and was the first to speak out, her loud voice ringing throughout the great room.

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"Lachesis was promised to my own son Ares at some point in time, was she not?" Zeus was slow to answer and easy to anger. "What does that have to do with anything, wife?" he spat. "She promised herself to him, and then broke that promise. We overlooked it then, but with today's problems..." Whispers began again in hushed tones throughout the room. Zeus turned toward Lachesis. "Did you break your promise to Ares, daughter?" Lachesis turned cold blue eyes to her father. He shivered at the numbness in those previously laughing eyes. The joyful eyes in which he thought the glow would never die. "He wanted things from me that I was not able to give." Ares had a newfound respect for Chesis. She sat there, so still and so alluring, as tempting as a virgin. And Ares found the taste of a virgin's climax, sweet and wondrous over his tongue, favored even over the marvelous ambrosia served. Now, Lachesis seemed even more unobtainable to him. She had the perfect opportunity to rat on him for demanding that she deliberately prepare a mortal weapon for his army, but she did not. Not that he would admit to any wrongdoing anyway. And was wellprepared in the event that she did squeal. A visit with his mother guaranteed that. "See?" Hera's voice rang with triumph, knowing that now she could bypass the sympathetic gods who would set the judgment. "I demand that Ares, God of War, my precious son, have the right to set her punishment, and that it be binding." There was hesitant clapping in the room, and Zeus paled slightly. "Ares," he said, his voice colder than the eyes of his beloved daughter. "Stand." Ares did as requested, defiance in his stance. He was not, nor would he ever be, a favorite of the harshly critical Zeus. "Can you be trusted to give Lachesis a fair and just punishment?" "Of course," the tone was glib, but something rang true with Zeus, for he relaxed the slightest bit. "What say you then, Ares, God of War?" "If Lachesis is sixty years ahead in her work, I say we confine her to the quarters she shared with the mortal for fifty years as punishment," Ares said, keeping his gaze level and his breathing even.

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Gasps resounded throughout the room. And Hera actually clapped in her glee before a glare from Zeus had the clapping slow suddenly, then stop abruptly. Lachesis stared at Ares through dead eyes. It was a slow, never ending torture, to be confined where Aaron had been. Fifty years. How did she once imagine herself in love with the God of War? Ares looked intently back at her, never once flinching in her frigid blue gaze. Instead, it was Lachesis who was tempted to flinch. For there, in the penetrating dark gaze, she saw the love that had never really died. She knew that Ares believed himself in love with her still. Even Zeus looked astonished at the harsh punishment, although Hera was more than pleased, her thin lips about to crack with the smile that involuntarily spread them. "Fifty years is fair," her stepmother said quickly, a newfound light in her eyes. And her own sisters, neither one spoke for her. "I accept my punishment," Chesis said, although technically she didn't have to. No one was powerful enough to force her to do anything. Not anymore. Not that she cared. After taking the love from her life, there was nothing worse they could do to her. "And the word is law," came the resounding reply from the gods. The usual crack of thunder sounded, and the correlated flash of lightening lit the room, its brightness blinding. It nearly made her blink from so many centuries in the dark caves. She stood, intending to leave the room. "Chesis, wait," Atropos called out. Her sister walked to her and then draped her locket over the motionless head of Lachesis. "I know you wore this on your belly," she whispered. "But Aaron of Arcules wore it over his heart. I thought you might also." Somehow, her sister had retrieved the locket from his body when he died. Chesis didn't know if the thought brought her pleasure or pain. But her sister was trying her best to make amends. Chesis just didn't know if she cared, because reparation couldn't be made. She turned, and left the buzz of the room behind her. She returned to the mountain that was her home, and strode to the quarters she was to be confined to. When she walked however, all was not as it seemed. The Halls of Eternity reached out for her, sending her spiraling to another time or

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place. Naturally, she glanced about for Aaron's soul while she was in the grip of the Halls, but as usual, they were too vast to search through. All too soon, they released their grip, dropping her from their clutches with a blink of the eye. She landed in her father's private study, back on Mount Olympus. Zeus sat on his majestic chair, no one else present but the two of them. "You summoned?" she asked wryly, as she sat in a chair opposite. "I won't see or talk to you for fifty years, daughter." "You haven't seen me for a lot longer than that, father. Not since you cursed us." Zeus's jaw dropped. "Cursed you? Of what do you speak?" "The four of us. Me, Attie, and Chloe, restricted to that hellhole of a mountain. And Lucky, banished to earth to never return." "Lucky, I cursed for her disobedience. I trusted my own daughters to protect the mortals' lives, and she refused. The other three of you, I placed in that mountain for your own defense. I kept you safe and alive for all this time, since you did not have the security of Mount Olympus behind you." In a flash, Zeus was up and pulling her to her feet, where she was enclosed in strong, muscular arms. The arms she associated as protection, but had forgotten about. "Lachesis, although the mountain is bleak and depressing, who do you think designed your private quarters? Each of your quarters, created specifically with each of my daughters' needs in mind?" he murmured against her hair, holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. "We were so lonely, hardly any visitors. Ares was about the only one who could stand the depression there for more than one visit," she said, her voice still confused. "The lack of visitors was not because my daughters were unpopular. You are loved by most. I kept it quarantined for your safety. No one could harm you there while you were away from my protection. Maybe, though, I made a mistake? Perhaps you should have been able to visit and mingle with mortals? Aaron would not have been so forbidden to you, and Atropos and Clothos would not have been so distant and unemotional. I will right the wrong." He embraced his daughter a few more minutes before pushing her away. "Hera approaches. Go now, daughter, and enjoy your vacation."

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She was pushed back to the Halls of Eternity, before she could even blink. Vacation? What an odd choice of words. Finally she returned to the quarters she'd abandoned since the death of her beloved Aaron. She couldn't bear to before, imagining his laughter around every rock. The gurgle of his voice in every stream. She had no choice now. She was confined for fifty years to the place where her memories lay. "It's about time you returned," the familiar, deep voice rumbled. The ghostly white color of her face was worrisome to him, as she stood completely still, afraid to move. He clasped her hand, bringing it to his mouth, and kissing the warmth back into it. "Aaron?" "Of course." "How is it possible?" "I don't know, my love. All I know is I can't leave. I've tried to wish myself to you, but I'm stuck in your quarters only. Which is fine when you're here, like the one night you slept and dreamed here, but you've been physically away for an awful long time," he scolded. "You were here then? When I dreamed? It was your kisses?" "Yes, but I wasn't strong enough to become corporeal. Not yet. That came later, but you refused to step foot in here then." That was when Chesis noted the locket still around his neck. The locket that she had given him. The locket that now matched hers, which she had assumed was one and the same. "If Attie didn't give me back my locket, then whose is this?" His eyes were puzzled. "Open it, and see." She opened the locket to find the sliver of red thread. The thread that contained the spirit of her lover's life. "Whose is it?" he asked. "It must be Attie's own locket. She must have scoured the ground looking for the tiniest shard of your thread, and when she found it, she put it into her locket for safekeeping, which kept you from the clutches of the Halls of Eternity. I had assumed she returned my own back to me." "Nope," he grinned. "I still have it. A part of you. Always. But why would she give you hers?" "An apology." "She's owed a thank you," he whispered, as he kissed her neck. "Later."

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He sank to his knees, and looped one of her legs around his shoulder. "Wave your hand and make your clothes disappear," he demanded, and she did it. Besides her clothes disappearing, her mound had a new look for him today. Smooth and hair-free, it gleamed scant inches from his mouth. "Mmmm," he said, before spreading her with his fingertips and diving in. **** Hera rushed into the Olympian party, where several were still present. Her pretty mouth was contorted in anger. She waved her crystal globe, an image of Lachesis and Aaron twined together in the grass haunted its center. "How can this be?" she screeched. "She is to be punished! How can the dead mortal be alive, well, and with her? What trickery is it?" Zeus stood so abruptly that his heavy chair clattered roughly to the floor behind him. His horrible temper blasted the globe from her hands, shattering it like crystal tears rattling along the pure gold floor. He flung a lightening bolt, barely missing Hera's feet. It hit the ground and lit the entire sky with its flash of light, the fury in it almost uncontained. Sudden silence filled the Great Hall, for his anger was the most volatile, itching for a chance to explode and exterminate all that touched it. "Woman, you try my patience. All your globe revealed is that my precious daughter is indeed confined to her quarters as decreed." "What of the decree by Ares?" "His exact words were: 'If Lachesis is sixty years ahead in her work, I say we confine her to the quarters she shared with the mortal for fifty years as punishment.' The word is law."

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About the Author Rena Marks spends her life daydreaming. Lucky for her fans, she's decided to pen those fantasies. Her first love is paranormal, her second is relationships. Blend the two and you get sensual, erotic stories. With a hint of magic.

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The Awakening Kally Jo Surbeck

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This is dedicated to the people out there who think they are alone… You aren't. For Fate hath wove the threads of life with pain… Alexander Pope 1688-1744

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One The sky had long ago faded from the brilliant peach of an unseasonably late Seattle, Washington, fall sunset to the dark, starspattered tapestry of night. Even though chilled drizzle fell from the sprawling heavens coating the roads, the buildings, and the earth, there were no clouds cluttering the sky. Not a single one marred the grand expanse. The stars shone brightly in the heavens, twinkling with hope and promise. It seemed like such a contradiction to Atropos as she stood high on the metal fire escape in Downtown, gazing upward. Clear skies—rain. No matter how many times she looked to the sky, its glory still made her breath catch. It was beautiful and awe inspiring. A shooting star raced southbound, first brilliant gold, then faded from sight. Only its memory lingered. Attie shivered. One more angel fallen. One more life consumed by the elements surrounding it. She sighed softly. The sparkling stars that remained anchored in the dark heavens shone down enticingly on those innocent enough to still believe in their ancient power. People, en masse, made wishes upon stars every night of the year, yet they had lost faith in the gods. It didn't make sense to her. She shook her head at the functioning of the complex and complicated human mind. She was one of the lingering but generally unseen forces that to this very day touched human lives, affected them. She and her sisters crafted life, yet it seemed the only time the Moirai were remembered these days was in some ancient philosophy or mythology class at university. Perhaps a rare child with a still open mind who had the mystery of the ancestral herald pulsing through his veins tossed a coin into the waters of a pool, praying to the sisters, pleading for luck, or life, or mercy without even knowing exactly what they were doing, who they were calling to. Even then, in the most rare occurrence, when a child had heard the lore and had remembered, called out with knowledge, the child didn't really understand to whom he spoke, or knew that one of the sisters stood beside him to hear his uttered prayer.

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The general populace still, at times, uttered their names. Occasionally, in blame. Fair enough accusation, Attie conceded. Often enough they were to blame. It was all incredibly sad. The way of things. People forgot. Memories faded as the generations slipped quickly passed. The stories of the gods, the teachings of the ancients stopped being repeated, or the tone in which they were told shifted from reverence and awe to that of some fable and flight of fancy. Once, years ago, she had sat in on a mythology class in England. The professor, snooty nose jutted high in the air, spieled on and on about the truth of the gods. His version was so twisted and polluted Attie cried. She'd walked out of that class and never returned to another. That was over two centuries ago. She could only image what time and now done to the tales. Mortals forgot. Gods remembered. Indeed, it was the way of things. She'd seen the pattern run its cycle time and time again. But to what end? This? Her gaze scanned the horizon, taking in the honking horns of quickly moving automobiles, the absent-minded chatter of people having their inane conversations about nothing as they hurried from one busy work task to another. It was slow tonight, here, in the city. Most people were indoors or encased in vehicles, or on public transits hurrying to get back to their private little boxes they called home. People were just inches away, yet whole worlds apart. Totally unaware of each other, they worried their worries and carried on with their plights thinking their lives, their concerns, were unique among the masses. Perhaps that was one reason she liked to be among mortals. Her aloneness seemed…universal. Attie walked among them, had since she had been banned from Olympus, yet mortals never saw her unless she purposely showed herself to them. The gods, herself no exception, remained veiled, watching the creatures they loved and protected throw their lives away, yet not truly being of affect any longer. Effect, indeed. Affect, no. Or more so, as the case was nowadays, the gods gave up faith and turned their backs, knowing that humans' time was so much shorter than their own. Even she had been tempted to look away, to run from her decree. Time, so fleeting, slipped for those in despair. Generations could pass in the blink of an eye. If she blinked right. But mortals' lives were lives, too. Any life demanded respect, no matter how fleeting. And over the centuries, millennia, much to her amazement Attie had witnessed those mortal lives do wonderful things. Greater things than even those

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endowed with the power of Olympus. And humans, while shrouded with incredible, unfounded egos, still worked for an end result of significance. They worked for a cause and with purpose. The gods had simply believed things should be handed to them. At least, that's how it was the last time she was there, Attie amended. All of that to contend with, people and their egos, gods and their superiority complexes. Then there were the Fates. Cursed to duty, bound to honor a code long forgotten to humans of an age long passed, that was how the Fates existed. Though they were many a time badmouthed and often noted only for the sadder results of their calling, most missed the beauty of the Fates. She and her three sisters were the centurions of hope. They gave life and love. They made certain there was happiness and equity. They maintained the balance and justice of the ages from generation to generation. Yet, who stood on the battlefield for them, defending them? Who cared about their wants, needs, and desires? What happened when the Fates lost hope? Those were questions that weighed heavily on Attie's mind and soul. They had always, but each day now seemed to compound the pain, the pressure, the sadness more so than it had in the past. In succession, her sisters' faces flashed before her. Instantly, Attie's heart warmed. The sisters. The sisters stood together and helped each other. They always had. They were all they had. There was solace in her sisters and their solidarity. And they had managed. Pretty damn well, in fact. Just look at them now. Chloe and Chesis had found love. And not just heart beating, twitter-paited lust, but full in head over heels love. Once again, the mountain fairly sizzled with their zest for life. That was good. That was enough. Maybe Lu and she were the balance of not having love. Maybe that was how the scales equalized life beyond the Fates. Half 'n half. If that were the case she would accept it, sadly, of course, but she'd do it just the same. Her sisters had noted her recent melancholy and tried to help where they could. That meant a lot of Attie. She didn't always know how to tell them or thank them. She knew they each fought this same battle, just on different fields. They all had their own crosses to bear, but they each certainly dealt with it just as varied a manner as her duties called for. Miraculously Chloe and Chesis had made it work. They had tilted the scale, accepted love, and continued to perform their duties. That had not seemed possible to Attie. She thought it had to be one or the other.

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She shook her shoulders slightly, watching the water slough off the waterproof material. It wasn't that she didn't want love. Actually, she craved it, but was scared of it as well. As the death dealer, she witnessed death and loss every day. How many people would understand her occupation or the struggles she dealt with on a regular basis? It was a hard, solitary life she led. Being a god was difficult enough for mortals to accept, to comprehend, but the fact that she was Death, Attie figured might be a little much. Attie tried not to complain. As a matter of fact, she generally kept to herself. There were a few demis she spoke with on occasion. Mortals she had befriended over the years. And, of course, the sisters. She had all of that, but for safety—hers and theirs—she kept a defined distance and not sought out love or accepted even a faint foreshadowing of possibility. At times like this, when she stood in the world but not of the world, she acknowledged she had created the reality she lived in. She was alone by choice, not force. She had always been attractive. Whenever she didn't like her eye color, or hair, or weight, she modified it. With the snap of her fingers, she could change her voice and her height, but what she could not change was who she was on a core level. The Attie of old. Daughter of Zeus. Sister of the famed Moirai. It meant nothing. She was, after all was said and done, just Attie. Her life, excluding the fancy little spin ball thrown her by Zeus when he condemned her to be an orphan and a Fate forever, was shaped by her choice alone. The Fates were above reproach, their decisions not allowed to be questioned. That had always meant a great deal to Attie. Even if people had forgotten about the gods and their ways, she had not. She knew her job. She knew how important her role was to the world and therefore she held herself to a high standard. It was the fall of the year. Time for the old to pass away, regenerate, and start anew. In that vein, she felt she had to be truthful. Alone, in the alley, she solemnly acknowledged how she had pushed away almost every single immortal and mortal alike because of a single truth. It hurt too much to lose. Attie sighed. With the exhalation she sent her sisters a burst of love, wishing them happiness for as long as it was theirs to experience. She also sent a special little prayer for Lu, wherever she was. They thought she had lost her ability to care, her sisters had. The cruel irony was, they were wrong. It was not that she no longer cared, but that there was so much out there in the universe to care about—she'd

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gone numb. She had spent so long distancing herself, stepping back from connections, lying to herself that she didn't need or want those bonds—so very long. For the majority of her life she'd justified her lonely existence and actions. She'd justified herself right into her current despised state of numbness. Her curse, her plague, was to determine the length of time each mortal was allotted. It was a power she had neither wanted nor craved. There was a time, long ago in her youth, she had hoped for no more than a playful existence. But with Zeus' decree she become a Moirai, that hope had vanished like a puff of smoke on a windy day—gone before it could even be fully conceptualized. Her job was cruel, but life was cruel. She had for centuries performed the best she could, showing no partiality not for the elderly, the kind, the wicked, the young, or the strong. Never once had she played favorites. Everyone was allotted a period of life. It was up to them how they lived it. Thunder rumbled in the distance, bringing Attie's attention front and center. A storm was fast approaching. She had probably a half hour. No more. Despite the relative shelter of the apartment's sculpted overhanging eave, a steady drizzle trickled down, wetting the whole of the city, blanketing the whole city. Water clinked on the metal of the fire escape. It pattered on the ceramic tiled roof. The rain then made it to her in tiny beads, which in turn ran in thin rivulets off her tan London Fog trencher. Soft drops of the moisture splattered around her three-inch heeled suede boots. It would stain them, yet she paid it little heed. She'd known it a possibility when she dressed. Like many things, she accepted the truth of the situation. She liked the boots, wanted height…hence she wore them. It's not like she couldn't get another pair, or clean these later. Nature and fashion rarely mixed. Her sisters loved that saying. A smile tugged at Attie's lips. She didn't resist this one. She even chuckled quietly, thinking about her sisters and what they would have to say about this evening. Chloe would tell her to work a little magic and clean those boots right up, this instant. It could all be tidied, straightened up, just like that! No sense in wasting a perfectly stitched boot, she would say. Lu would laugh at her for wearing suede in the rain. Chesis...Ches would give Attie that sad smile she had been wearing so much of late and wonder at her sister's lack of respect for a finely crafted, mortal-made object. Attie would just laugh at them all because while she wore the boots and the trench coat, she wore

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nothing else. Surely, that little detail would evoke a response from her sisters. Feeling as though she were compromising, giving a little for her sisters who gave her so much, Attie took another step in under the overhang. "Happy now?" she asked, mostly to herself. A lone gargoyle perched atop the roof of the apartment complex smiled down on her with compassion, he—as she—a forgotten relic. She pulled her trench coat more tightly about her, tugging on the cinch. She didn't experience the cold night air like most people, but the action brought comfort nonetheless. The soft satin lining of the coat brushed over her skin with the gentleness of a child's blanket. It soothed and calmed her. The coat was thinly insulated, offering a reassuring weight on her shoulders and around her body. It reminded her of the new sheets on her bed. In just a bit she could crawl under her sheets, warm, dry, comfortable, and be assured she was doing everything possible to be the best at her job. Soon she could have that comfort, but not just yet. Her breath steamed out in front of her in small puffs that quickly dispersed. The weather was not exactly a discomfort, but Attie was aware of the temperature changes around her, how her environment changed and how she changed it. Carefully she regulated her breathing, going more slowly so no condensation fogged the window into which she peered. She wanted to see every last detail tonight. No cheating herself on this. Inside the dimly lit, cozy top-floor apartment, the current objects of Attie's fascination dreamily arose from their seats at the dining room table. The young couple was celebrating their third anniversary. Their succulent dinner of roast chicken and jambalaya scented the chilled night air. To her heightened senses, it smelled wonderful, pungent with as much expectation of delight as the satin sheets covering the king-sized bed. Both called out for fulfillment. The burgundy of the Merlot that stained their half-filled glasses matched the deep hue of the sheets on the bed. The woman had been wise in her purchase that very morning, knowing that a drop or two of the rich ambrosia could end up on the sheets. The wife and husband stood together, naked, yet clothed by each other's adoring embrace. Their lips hesitated, almost touching, hovering the barest of inches from each other. They breathed life from one to the other—tasting, smelling, experiencing. The energy of love pulsed from one to the other with static electricity. It was fascinating. Attie wished

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she could still see the auras like her sisters. The display would be incredible. Yet, over time the colors of her perception had dimmed. She didn't remember when she lost sight of the brilliant hues human souls radiated, but she had. Now she saw the basics and felt a sense of profound loss at that fact. The emotions warred within her. The basics made life simple. Made her job acceptable. Easier to understand, to complete. Yet, she missed so much now… Attie licked her lips, that suddenly seemed parched beyond reason. They yearned not for a balm but the healing touch of a lover's kiss. How long had it been? Years. Centuries. Sex was simple. Love was complicated. This slow build to the culmination of lovemaking confused and at the same time compelled her. She had to watch them, this couple. It was a soul compulsion. She could not turn away. Their passion for one another seemed to paint the air, color the scenery. It was times like these when she felt she could get it all back. She felt as though she were perched on the very cliff of a high mountain. Her stomach flipped and felt ready to plunge, kicking her system full of the godlike equivalent to adrenaline. She wanted what they had, yet at the same time knew it was not hers to take. Still, it beckoned her, pleading. How could it be so wrong to witness open and profound love, deep and intoxicating love? It was beautiful, natural, and so incredibly awesome. Not everyone had it. Surely not everyone experienced it in his or her brief existence. Yet, these two people had it. They embraced it. Attie did not reveal herself to them. She did not speak. She stood silently, watching and appreciating. Attie thought that maybe if she watched in these times of heightened emotion, perhaps some of what they had would bleed through to her, show her what to care about, how much to give, where to look. Love by proxy. She thought that something would jump-start her system, give her back the passion and zeal for existence that had so long been missing. If these mortals could find so much joy, so much passion from a look, or touch, maybe, just maybe, she could, too. She blinked slowly. Intrigued, she savored how everything appeared more real, more vivid, because of the love this couple shared. She sensed how they felt those same emotions, how they knew them to be true because they were together. It was as if they were to be separated, the world would no longer be whole.

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Attie sighed in union with the couple. She reminded herself that all things healed…in time. Her hands grasped the windowsill unconsciously. Her fingers gripped the wood, mimicking the way the wife's small hands grasped the husband's shoulders. Small chips of paint flaked under the pressure Attie exerted, some abrading the sensitive skin on her fingers, but she paid them little mind, her attention resting wholly on the couple. They had no idea. The husband reached up and pulled two red oriental painted sticks free from his wife's silky, long, black hair, taking it from a well-styled twist to thick, cascading locks that brushed down the length of the woman's slender back. The sheen of the woman's hair in the candlelight reminded Attie of the Indian Ocean at midnight. The hair sticks dropped unceremoniously to the floor. The average mortal would have heard nothing, but to Attie's hyper yet selectively focused hearing, the sticks clattered on the carpeted floor loudly. The noise shook her enough that she frowned. At least, she told herself it was because of the sound. Sticking with the resolution of honesty, she admitted she frowned at the husband's gentle touch. He experienced his wife's skin with every sensory receptor on his fingertips. He tasted her with his tongue. He loved her with all his heart. The truth of that shone bright in his onyx eyes. All of that was what she really frowned at, how completely and utterly in love the man was with his wife. Languidly, the man bent his head and trailed shameless kisses down the expanse of his wife's exposed throat, teasing the gentle swell of her small breasts with his lips, with his tongue. A throaty laugh of appreciation and delight came from the wife and she whispered his name. Seconds and a whole lifetime passed. Attie cocked her head to the side, listened to the wife's contented sighs. She tuned into them as if they were the only sound in the city, studied them. For it has been said that in the sighs of a woman lies the secrets to happiness. Attie listened closely. She desperately wanted to hear the secret—sense it, feel it. Instead of a revelation, the woman's delight evoked sadness from the oldest Fate. Another flake of paint drifted away from the windowsill. Attie lowered her gaze and watched it float past the slats in the fire escape, drifting on the unsettled air all the way to the alley far below, where it disappeared into a murky puddle on the ground. Thunder rumbled, the fire escape shook, and gusts of wind whipped her hair. Rain pelted her

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cheeks, mixing with tears that had escaped when Attie had least expected them. She didn't bother to brush at the moisture on her cheeks. Why had her sisters questioned her? Why now? Millennia later they finally wondered at her procedure, her tact? She shook her head. Had they not brought doubts to her mind she would have continued her existence, her job, her duty in blissful numbness as she had done for centuries. She was sure of it. She could have gone on forever the way she was. Now, though, questions raced through her mind. So quickly, in fact, not even she could put the questions to word. They jumbled around into incoherent confusion and doubt. If she could not return her thoughts to a linear order, she could not pass from this stage. That troubled her. The fact that she was unsure of her current course troubled her even more. Oh, the ugliness of conscience. The couple cried out in pleasure. Attie raised her gaze to them. They had no idea what was about to happen, but she did. Therein lay her pain. Pain because even though she knew and she felt for them, she had no choice. Nothing could change the course of the evening. Nothing could alter Fate. She stuck her hand in her pocket and felt the thin thread safely stored therein. She traced her fingers over the material. There was no need to pull it out to see it. She had every hitch in the weave memorized. Her fingers brushed over the enchanted shears. The scissors were cold, metallic. She needn't pull them out either. They were as much a part of her as her sisters. Making sure she had nothing in her hands, that the string was not caught on her nail or skin, Attie slipped her hand free and returned it to the rough windowpane. How oddly precarious life was. The lives of mortals were so fragile, so delicate. Their fate in the hands of the uncertain. The fire escape shook again. This time not from the weather. She wasn't alone. "Hot, isn't it?" A deep voice sounded behind her. "Well, cold out here, hot in there." She didn't need to turn, to look. She knew him. It seemed as if she'd known him forever. Whether it was the sound of his voice or the vibrating stir when he materialized it didn't matter, both throbbed with strength. "Fuck off, Narcissus." The youngest son of Cephissus and Liriope stepped close to Attie. He invaded her personal space with both his body and spirit. The entire alley was open for his presence, but instead of keeping his distance, he came right up to her, standing close on the fire escape. Only he would

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dare act so presumptuously. Only he had never appeared contrite or intimidated of the Fates. For that reason, if no other, Narcissus was her friend. His body heat seeped through her coat. The chill of the night seemed more pronounced now that she felt his comforting warmth near. She smelled his cologne and wondered when he had decided to start wearing a new brand. The subtle notes lingered in the damp air, making her want to lean closer to him, to sniff again and again. Then she wondered why it mattered to her. She straightened her shoulders, feigning indifference. He could wear what he wanted. He didn't need to run it past her. A small shift in the breeze washed another wave over her and her façade cracked. He was close, as if he were reaching out to her, but hesitating, not touching. A shiver raced up her spine. "It's raining. Shouldn't you be somewhere else all sunshine and flowers?" "Hmmm." It sounded more like a purr when it came from him. Despite herself, she liked it. His voice rumbled, having a faint gravely sound to it. "And yet, you're out in it. What gives? You working or just being creepy?" She bit gently on her bottom lip. She'd known someone approached. She'd felt them, somewhere just beyond, but it mattered little. Gods came and went. She didn't, however; expect one of them to come on up and to interrupt her ponderings. She was a Fate. Her presence was above reproach. Anywhere. Yet, now that he was there, she was kind of glad he had. He stepped closer still. "You've been here a while now, Attie." She could be wherever she wanted to be. If anyone else, even her sisters pushed in on her space like this, she'd land blast them, shove them away, or at least verbally let them know how uncomfortable it made it. She needed space. She needed her own area. Yet, she found herself leaning in toward him. She couldn't stop herself. She needed to, but she couldn't. She thought to protect others, so much so she cut threads on a precise, posted schedule so her sisters knew exactly what to expect when they entered her workroom. That way they never unexpectedly saw the errant thread of a child, a grandparent, a parent to be. They never had to see the limp thread of a child not yet of maturity whose life was stopped all too young by her enchanted shears. She had always felt she had to be alone to do her job. It was hard. No one else should have to be a part of

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that. They shouldn't have to endure the sadness, not by choice. It was too much to ask. But was she wrong? Maybe she needed to not be alone. The idea surprised her. "What's up?" She blinked. What's up? She was working. Just like almost any other time he came to her. When she wasn't snipping a thread, she was worrying over how many or where or when she must. That cannot be healthy, Attie-girl. You need a hobby. She had a hobby, actually. Experimentation. It was a fairly new fascination. It worked in line with her preoccupation with humans, mortals of all sort. Attie recognized she was different. However, just because her sisters and the other terra-forma-condemned-semi-precious gods didn't like to run around amongst the mortals they so deftly manipulated was no reason to look at her funny because she did. As Atropos, the Fate who cut the thread of life, she felt it a necessity to be among those whom she sentenced to death. Only fair. Besides, she genuinely liked mortals. They looked at everything differently. The majority possessed zeal. They looked for joy. Laughter radiated from the small apartment and Attie focused her attention on her night's mission. She dragged it away from the beautiful Narcissus and his tempting warmth, back to the hollow space where she stood, outside in the cold, watching and waiting. Now, since her sisters had questioned her disassociation, it was more imperative she look, see, and know in the depths of her brittle soul that she was proceeding down the right path. That she acted always in an uninfluenced manner. That she did her job. That she did it well. It felt so good to be near someone. For someone to recognize she was alive, that she existed. She wanted to touch him, to cling to him, to simply hold onto the sensation of togetherness. That scared her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable in her own skill. She had never needed this before. At least, she'd never recognized the need. Yes, she had begun questioning her abilities and her skills, but she had never thought of Narcissus as a possibility of comfort. Embarrassed heat leaped to her cheeks and she was thankful that she was not facing him. Narc knew too much about her. If not understood her, at least he acknowledged her ways. He'd know something was different and wrong with her. She couldn't afford to have him questioning her, too. Her frown deepened. She had every right to be here. He didn't. He was a lesser god. He was a god because of his parents. He was a legend

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for his looks. It didn't matter what he was or what she thought about him and his bulging biceps. He had no business questioning her and she didn't like it. Something about his doubting her made her gut clench and churn. It was not that she liked anyone questioning her, but the fact that Narc had joined rank and file with her sisters…their doubts suddenly seemed too much weight to bear. She shoved him a little way away from her with her shoulder. "Talk to me. Why are you bothering these people?" he asked. His voice sounded rough, manly, testosterone laced. But he spoke more softly than normal, the words lilting down at the end. He sounded concerned. It was a wistful note she thought she heard in his voice that softened her heart a little. "This couple is obviously celebrating something and here you are, standing out in the dark, the rain, in one hell of an approaching storm acting like some freaky Peeping Tom." When she touched him she felt the thick leather of his jacket, heard the clasps clink with the movement. She really wanted to look. Narc was rather persistent when he wanted something and, apparently, he wanted something. She waited, hoping for and dreading his words. Maybe he would stand there in silence with her, too, enjoy the evening and what it had to offer. "You're normally so..." He paused. "I don't know. You're normally so concerned about privacy." Nope. Silence was asking too much. "Yes. I like my privacy." "Little note, sweetie. So do most humans. It's built into them or something. They close doors. Most pull their blinds. Obviously not this couple, but most do. Huh? Who knew this was what you were into? It would have saved me so much time." He added the last as a murmured afterthought. "What the fuck?" "Nothin'. Hey, Attie, look at me not them." "You'd rather I was staring at you?" She could not stop herself. She had to look at his reflection in the window. He was tall and broad and blond and so close. She couldn't have not looked if Zeus himself decreed it. He grinned. "See? I'm not so bad!" No, he wasn't bad at all. That was part of the problem. "Don't you get enough of that shit?" In the window, she saw his eyebrow rise. A small muscle in his clenched jaw twitched, but he didn't so much as blink, his smile did not waiver though for the first time she thought it

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seemed less a smile of charm or of confidence and one more of sadness. What an odd request from him. "Haven't you worn yourself out yet? Everyone staring. Everyone gawking. You're hot. You know it. Shit, it's legendary. We all know it." "You buy into that crap?" "I've heard stories." "So you do believe that that's me. The guy of the stories?" Her tone was rough. "I'm working." Narcissus towered over her. From the weak reflection of their images in the window, the whole of his body could be seen behind hers. He did have on his heavy leathers. A white T-shirt showed just under his jacket. The rain soaked it, making it cling to the fine muscles of his chest. He was firm and fit. His body screamed out to be fondled, caressed, enjoyed—every last inch of it. Handsome could not even describe him. Vain, now she supposed that could. She felt what might have been misconstrued as guilt make her waiver. She was judging him harshly and for no reason other than her own state of confusion. There was nothing he could do about his looks. It was a blessing of birth. He'd been her friend, put up with her melancholy and her life. That counted for something. It counted for a lot. He watched her for a moment, then lifted his gaze. "You gonna answer me? What gives with the intrusion?" Annoying as it was, he had a valid point. Well, two of them. He wasn't so bad, not to look at, not to be with, and, in essence, she was intruding on the couple, but what the mortals didn't know wouldn't hurt them. This night was the most special of their lives. It was the last night they would spend together on earth. She stubbornly refused to look away. "I could have watched them from anywhere. You know that. I don't have to be here. They don't know I'm here. So I really don't see what the problem is." Making a display, he rubbed his arms as if from the chill of the evening. The action brushed the front of his right arm against her back. Not much, but enough to make her notice the firmness of his sculpted muscles. Enough for her to want more. His warm breath breezed over her scalp, sending goosebumps to her arms as well. "Yeah, you can watch from anywhere, Att, like that nice dreary room of yours in the bat cave, or how about a sports bar? Beer and pretzels mix well with doling out death sentences, right? Sit there in the din of revelers. Not really crying in your drink, but watching the evening unfold on the nice, smooth, head

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of a Guinness. You'd mix right in. So why stand out here in this drizzle? It's depressing. And it's cold." "No one knows I'm here." He laughed a deep rich laugh. "I know." She pursed her lips and bit back the retort, no one important knows. Friends, she wanted to keep it that way. He helped her out, a lot. He was never averse to her sisters or their work. Narc was even a pretty good source of Olympian gossip. Besides, when he wasn't lipping off, he was a hell of a sight. Attie might not have much of a life, but she still had a fantastic libido. Everything still worked, she assumed, but the problem was she thought too much. Thinking too much led to questions. Questions led to confusion and she did not like confusion. She was baiting him and she knew it, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "No mortal knows." He sighed. It was long and drawn out. She expected to see him turn away or make some move to accept her rejection. She deserved it. It was what she expected. Much to her delight, he did not. He stayed right there with her. She released her grip on the sill, noting with bemused detachment her knuckles were white. Her fingers ached from the strength of her hold. Attie flexed them twice. She reflected for a quick moment, wondering if it was the pressure of the night or Narc's presence that was getting to her so. Gesturing at the couple, she expounded, "They don't know." He backed away from her a little, but only enough to turn so he could glance over the edge of the railing of the fire escape, his gaze immediately locked on a couple far below huddled beneath a large umbrella walking along at a leisurely pace. Despite the weather, perhaps empowered by the weather they pressed tight to each other and strolled. "Someone might notice you." Why was he trying so hard? Had he always been this persistent? Why had she never noticed? Who cared if she was seen by someone else? People for the most part kept to themselves. They minded their own business, unlike him. "You know how this works. No one sees me unless I wish it." He did frown then. His even, white teeth disappeared as did his charming dimple. "And you don't wish it?" "No." She couldn't remember seeing his face contorted in a serious frown before. Narc kept things light, pleasant. He was always goading her into a smile. Attie pressed her memory. Maybe a time or two she'd

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seen him deep in thought, but this look appeared to be one of pain. Like the fact that she was not seen upset him somehow. "Worst case? The couple in there? They possibly get a bit of a funny feeling in the pit of their stomachs. Maybe they think someone was watching them, but they never know for sure what or who it was. They just see a rain spattered window." "It?" "Me. Us." "Kinda a cold description, don't you think?" She conceded that maybe it was, but that was how she'd been able to keep it in perspective. "Fine. They don't know that I'm here. They don't know and they don't care. Look at them. They're so in love. So oblivious to life, what's going on around them. They don't know how short their time on this earth really is. It's fascinating to me." "Oh, no. You didn't, Attie." There was no point in responding. Of course she had. It was her job, her calling. Solemn now, Narcissus asked, "Which one?" Her gaze stayed fixated on the couple. The husband deftly lifted his small wife. He cradled her in his loving arms as though she weighed no more than a feather. Muscles ripped from his forearm to neck, yet he smiled down at her. A beautiful, glorious smile full of love and affection. The long lines of his thighs roiled as he carried her to their bed. Still holding her, he sank onto the side. The mattress cushioned under his weight, dipping slightly. His lips brushed hers. Slowly, back and forth, he seemed to nibble at her lips, her feigned resistance. All of this time of marriage and he still seduced her with a kiss. Attie noted the wife's delight. The scarlet of the woman's lips, stained with the evening's wine, full with passion and desire curled into a smile of appreciation. Attie's heart tugged. Narcissus pressed, "Which one, Attie?" They're just threads, her mind kept repeating. Mortals are not supposed to live forever. That is not how or why they were created. We all have our purpose. I make sure the population stays balanced. I aid pestilence and disease. I keep things in order. If I fail, Mother Nature and Time would fall out of balance. It is allotted all mortals shall die. "Attie." She did not want to answer. She shifted slightly. Her head shook and her hands held a slight tremor. Her long cornrows spilled down over

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her shoulder. The tiny bells and beads adorning them jingled at the movement. Without thinking about it, she reached up and caught several braids, silencing the joyous noise. Her finger traced the intricate lines of the braid, the thick, rich strands of hair soft under her touch. Suddenly, she wished she could see The Tapestry. See if it would turn out all right in the end. The Big Picture. She wanted to gaze at the brilliant colors Chesis chose, the genius ripples of Lu's masterful touch, and the majesty of the completed tapestry that Chloe wove. She urgently needed to see it. Proof. The compulsion to know it was all right stole her breath. It hurt to gain air. It lodged in her throat and in her chest. She shook off the uncomfortable feelings. What was she thinking? Of course, it would turn out well. Everything worked to the appropriate end. New loves would be found, in time. Mortals had such fickle memories. It made them resilient. She admired that. Narcissus laid one large hand on her shoulder and she jumped. "It really doesn't matter which one. Does it?" Her voice was flat, totally devoid of the emotion hammering painfully in her chest. By looking, no one would know she had doubts about her cavalier use of her enchanted shears. They never needed to know that there were times she desperately wanted to be partial, to extend time if only for a minute. No one knew or needed to know how with each snip of someone else's life, hers grew more empty. No one knew, and even if they guessed, so what? What could they do? What good did it do to have them know when nothing could ever change? "They're all the same." "Ouch!" "Time flows, Narcissus. You and I, we play our parts. The ones our parents picked for us." "Careful, Attie," he warned. "You saw what happened to me." She denied his claim. "It's not the same thing." His voice gentled, but the pressure of his hand on her shoulder remained firm. "Sure it is." "No. It's not. Sure, you got booted out of the hierarchy, and, yes, I know. It sucks. But Zeus didn't curse you to this bullshit assignment. You can come and go back as you please. People leave you alone." "Your father—" "Zeus," she interrupted him, "let some nasty ass bit of slash lead him around by his dick and for that every single one of his daughters got the shaft." She silently dared him to contradict her.

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Narcissus pulled her away from the window, looking around him as if people might overhear their conversation. Big, strong Narcissus looked…scared. She tugged away. "What are you doing?" He plopped down on the railing. His hands braced him on either side, the veins raised. "I know no one can hear us, but dammit, Attie." He shook his head. "This generation may not have as much reverence for Zeus and Olympus, but your father is still powerful and so is Hera. Whether people know their power or not, they still have the power. You don't need to be shouting out your anger. Not here. Not in the middle of an apartment complex. You just never know who is listening." "Who cares? They cursed us. We do our bidding. Life goes on. We should be able to say whatever we want. Fuck 'em." His blue eyes shone with amazement. "You are in a mood. What's wrong with you?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you here?" He smiled, and the dimple she now realized she really missed reappeared in his left cheek. "I asked you first." She never wanted him to frown again. "Please don't." "Don't what?" "Try to be cute. Don't. I'm not in the mood, Arce." She used their playful name, softening the bite in her tone. "I'm busy." "You're in a mood, all right. Come on. The sooner you tell me what's going on, the sooner you can get your jollies watching the couple. You screw around long enough, they'll be done and you'll have missed it." He meant it. He'd never leave if she didn't talk to him. She considered him her friend. She enjoyed his company. She trusted him. Maybe, just maybe, if she told him he wouldn't laugh. "That's just wrong!" "Maybe, but it's the truth." "Unnatural," she muttered. "Okay. I'll talk to you. Lords know why, but I'll talk to you, but you're just gonna laugh. Or tell your friends." She rolled her eyes. "Or tell my sisters." He waited. "Fine. That. In there. I have a problem with it, I guess." He looked over her shoulder to where she gestured with her hooked thumb. She knew exactly what he saw. The couple was now deep in the throws of passion. The wife's cries of pleasure were clear through the

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thin glass of the window. Everyone in the complex could hear what a good celebration it was. Narcissus shook his head. "What's wrong with it?" "It isn't the problem. I guess it's me." "You?" He stood up, impressing her again with his height and size. "Yeah. I don't remember…that. I don't know that I ever knew it." She turned back toward the couple. She watched the smooth movements of the husband's hands tracing the line of his wife's jaw, the goosebumps rise on the wife's skin. The way her nipples budded with excitement. Attie watched and felt a yearning for that same experience. Her body responded. Her nipples constricted. They rubbed against the soft satin lining of her jack and she felt herself warm noticeably. "So." Narcissus stepped up behind her, his hands slipping around her waist causing the hairs on her skin to tingle. "Wanna give it a try? See if we can spark a memory?"

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Two At any other time his question might have seemed outrageous. Not tonight. Her mind had been opened to possibilities. This was definitely a possibility. Why not? Attie bit the inside of her lip, working the tender flesh slowly back and forth between her teeth. She and Narcissus had been friends for a long time, longer than most Chinese family dynasties had even been around. On different occasions through the years, she couldn't say the thought of jumping Narcissus hadn't crossed her mind. Once or twice, she'd even considered asking him, but she always stopped herself. All it took was one fraction of a second for a 'what if' to pop into her head and it was over. The 'what if' scenarios blocked out the need to get laid, but really, what was a little sex between friends? He had asked her. He'd come to her. So, he had to find her attractive enough. Obviously, he was not concerned with a 'what if'. This was the simple side of sex. Or, it should be. He loved only himself. That was the myth, right? And she? What about her? She didn't know what she loved anymore. Not even if she was capable of the actual bonding, reciprocating, sharing, and opening herself. She cared passionately about her sisters and justice, but whether those emotions stemmed from feelings or from long-set beliefs she didn't know any more. She knew she felt things, she just didn't know what to base the definition of those things on anymore. She went about in the world, not really feeling it. She touched objects, watched lives come and go, but lived separately. What she did know was that it was time for a change. Change started with one person's decision. She was alone and cold, and she was tired of that. Confused and unsure, Attie felt she could not ask anyone to be a part of what she did and who she was, but Narcissus already knew these things about her. She wouldn't have to explain about who she was, what she did, or her family history. That in itself was advantageous. Not just that, he was a man first and foremost. He hadn't come asking for forever.

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He'd asked for a physical encounter. He had his own problems and his own dilemmas, memories that weighed his mind. Beautiful. Well proportioned. Sex with him, physically would be a welcomed release. There was only so much she could do for herself. The heat of another being could at the very least warm her skin if not her soul. Sex with him, she was positive, would be fulfilling physically. His large hands splayed across the flat of her stomach, making her feel small and sexy. He had good hands. Strong hands. His arms were large and well defined. The leather jacket fit his shoulders. His leather pants clung to his butt and thighs like a second skin. Narcissus felt real and powerful. All of that should have been enough. And it was. It was enough that she had already decided to say yes, to see where it went, but the biggest thing going for him was that she was comfortable with him. He felt like a truth that had been missing from her life. "A try?" she asked, making sure he had one last out, if that was what he wanted. "One or two even," he replied cheerfully. Standing there, comfortable in his arms, Attie felt empowered. She felt secure and safe. She thought maybe she could get used to those feelings, but immediately warning lights flashed in her mind. Narc was Narc, after all. He was a glorious looking man, but he had a reputation. She could not put any emotion to this beyond what it was. This wasn't about anything other than sex. Sex to spark feelings, to see if she had the something down deep inside. That emotion she saw light people's faces when they were together. That bountiful energy she felt coming from the cozy apartment of the couple. Was that such a horrid motivation? This would be an experiment. She liked experiments. As a matter of fact, she had been conducting several over the last century. Some with positive results. Some not so positive. What kind of woman of science would she be if she were not willing to test her theories on herself? She examined their reflection in the double-paned glass. They looked good together. His light and her dark. Death and beauty were a lethal combination, but oh, the ride. He shifted slightly behind her and she knew he was thinking much along the same lines. He was a tall, handsome man. He took pride in himself. He was Narcissus, and being the son of gods helped. Everything about him was perfect, even his distaste for his reputation as a lady-killer. Attie cringed at the memory. From what she knew, Echo wasn't totally his fault. Narc carried around a lot of pain under his perfectly white smile. His erect shoulders bore the

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weight of life and death, without the beauty of ablution she attained at the end of a day. She watched tiny rivulets of water catch the sharp angle of his chiseled jaw. It threaded through the hint of stubble and dropped. Her hand itched to reach out and gently brush the droplets away, but she did not yet turn. She savored the moment. She could do this. She nodded toward the window. "You can give me that?" "I can give it a shot." It wasn't exactly fair of her to use his doubt and desire to please against him. That was like if he were using this just because he knew she was lonely. Okay, maybe not exactly the same, but he offered... "If that's what you want." Her heart misfired. It seemed to flutter around in her chest. She wanted what she saw in that room more than she could put into words. "I want that. Exactly that." Through the muscles in her back and through the thin material of her overcoat, she felt his heartbeat quicken. Thunder rumbled in the distance and for a split second, she was scared he was going to move away from her. That he would run at her request. He would see her for the twisted macabre individual she felt herself. He would, if he were smart. Attie, not wanting him to change his mind, reached behind her, allowing her hands to settle on the swell of his butt. His cheeks clenched at the contact and she smiled. "What," she teased, "no underwear?" One of his large hands gently ran over her stomach and down her upper thigh as the other hand inched incrementally higher toward her breast. "You neither." "Priorities." He dropped his head to the side of hers. His lips brushed against her ear. "Exactly." The damp heat of his breath mixed with the cool moist air of the night. The contradiction sent chills along Attie's spine. She shivered despite herself. He nipped at her ear, and with the barest of touch his tongue traced the edge of her ear. Heat pooled deep in her core. Her fingers tightened their grip on his ass. "You like that, do you?" What kind of stupid question was that? Yeah. "How about this?" He slipped one hand inside the front of her coat. The heat of his skin seared her cool flesh. He marked her where he touched. Attie blinked against the reality of the calluses on his fingers and the warmth of his hand. This was real. This was happening and she

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didn't want him to stop. She didn't want him to speed up either. All she wanted was him. That scared her to death. "You've got to breathe, Attie." He was careful. The knot of her sash didn't loosen any as he worked his hand deeper into the covering. He held her, cupped her, massaged her, but the pressure didn't seem strong enough. The touch grazed over her like a haunted memory, edging her conscious. It was as if he touched a fragile doll, something he revered. "Come on. Loosen up. Relax. I've got you." She leaned her head back against his chest. She wanted to shut her eyes, to savor the contact, but she could not bring herself to quit watching the couple through the window. The husband scooted further back onto the bed, taking his wife with him as he moved. His hands gripped her hips. As he shifted, the wife, crawling on her knees, slid her hand up and down his shaft and moved with him. Attie found herself swaying in time with the couple, pressing back against Narcissus, sighing in synch with the wife. Attie rocked her hips, grazing the hard length of Narcissus. "Att." "Sshh," she soothed him. "Look away, Att. Look at me." "Watch them. Do that." "Do this with me, Att." She slipped one of her hands in the folds of her jacket, sliding it down his forearm until her small hand rested on his much larger one. Her cold fingers were a welcomed distraction where her skin underneath the coat was so hot from Narcissus' touch. She rubbed his hand that cupped her breast, massaging his fingers, slowly, gently. "I'm with you." "You're with them." "Just do that," she urged. A small grunt came close to her ear. Attie thought she might have heard desire war with complaint. He wanted her, but he wanted her attention. The guilt she felt at not giving it to him immediately jolted her. Inside the apartment the wife called out her husband's name. Narcissus' hot lips nuzzled Attie's neck. He tickled her skin with the tip of his tongue, trailing forgotten symbols on her skin. She closed her eyes. She wasn't with him. She wasn't gone. She was somewhere between. Attie felt as though she were strung out over a pit, both situations called to her, pulled at her. Both Narc and the couple demanded her attention and she didn't know which she should respond

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to. She tilted her head, exposing more of her flesh for his consumption. The hand on her breast gave a slight squeeze of appreciation. "Attie," he called her name as he slipped her jacket off her shoulders. It wisped over her skin as it trailed the length of her body and suddenly there she stood, exposed to the elements. "Yes. Oh, yes." She pressed herself closer to him, everything forgotten in the sensation of his touch, her naked body pressed to his wet leathers. The soft of his T-shirt rubbed against the sensitive skin of her back. Narcissus took advantage of her momentary distraction, tracing the line of her neck with his tongue. Nipping at the sensitive skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, trying to turn her in his arms. Suddenly she felt his naked flesh in contact with hers. Her eyes snapped open. Their image overlying that of the couple deep in the throws of passion shattered any resolve she had. She accepted the pressure from Narc, and she turned in his embrace, needing to see him, watch his response, and afford the couple inside the apartment their last moments of love in privacy. Lightning ran across the heavens, illuminating Narcissus' face. His blue eyes fairly gleamed with the same brilliance. The heat she saw in his eyes warmed her to her very soul. There was a little spark of remembrance flickering inside her. Like the start of the spring thaw after a long, cold winter. Narcissus bent, took one of her nipples in his mouth, laved it with his tongue, then sucked. Attie felt her knees quiver with the building pleasure. Then he released her breast, moved to the other and repeated the pleasure. Attie's hands felt empty, a feeling she remedied by ripping open Narc's jacket. She shoved it off his shoulders as he continued to pleasure her breast with his mouth. He pulled away to kiss a trail down her stomach. She clawed down his back until she grabbed the tail of his Tshirt and pulled it over his head. The neck got caught on his jaw momentarily. "Easy. I'm not going anywhere." Oh, hell yes they were. She grabbed the material and as she finished pulling it off of him, she transported them back to her room in the mountain. It was dark and she regretted the lack of lighting, but she luxuriated in the soft feel of the

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clean sheets, the moderated temperature and the dry, cleanliness of the room. "W-what?" he stammered. "Ahh. The bat cave." She rubbed her hands lazily over his chest. The golden curls were soft beneath her fingers. "Yeah." "Not too many people been in here." "Nope." He buried his head between her breasts, one hand grabbing on to each, and let out a small whoop. She tilted his head up by his chin. "Did you just cheer?" "You will too in a minute." She laughed, actually laughed. She felt good and comfortable, like she would love to lay with him forever. The pillows, sheets, and bedding seemed to envelope them. It was like a womb, spacious and snug, warm but relaxing. "Attie." His voice was a caress, a whisper of need against her skin. He moved down her body until his hands rested on her thighs. His hair tickled her calf, but not near as much as his hot breath, quickly followed by moist lips as he began kissing her, staring at the tips of her toes. She didn't have time to be embarrassed. By the time she registered he had so intimately touched her feet, then he had moved on up to her ankles. Then her calves. All the while he kneaded her thighs, massaged her hips, and trailed his fingers through the dark curls on her mound. Round and round, teasing, but not touching, her clit. Attie felt pulled in every direction. She wanted to watch him, to get lost in the passion she saw in his eyes. Yet, she craved the dark, her privacy, the slight separation. The experience…to be and not be. The dichotomy confused her. Her body burned and ached for more than just his touch. Though, damn, his touch had her arching. Heat pooled between her legs and her wetness had nothing to do with remnants of the rain. She was wet and ready to take him in. Never had she wanted anything more than to feel him enter her, slide inside and pump deep and hard. Her own need spiraled within her. Soaring up. Stealing her breath. "Narc. I need…more." His arms lifted her, settling her legs around his waist, open to him. "Lean back, love." At the word love, he slowly slipped in. Hard, pulsing already with his need for release. Attie bit hard on her lower lip, suppressing the need

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to scream in desire. It—he—felt so good. He felt so good. So right. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he sunk more deeply into her. "Attie!" She sighed—a joyful sound, even to her own ears. "Attie!" She wrapped her legs more firmly around his waist, hooking her legs behind his back, allowing for the best penetration. She could sense it. Both of them. Completion. Her world shattered in an explosion of light and color.

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Three She playfully patted his chest. "Yeah. You're a lady-killer, all right." The handsome smile and all other signs of delight fell from his face. He shook his head. "Don't even joke about that. Do you even know what happened?" After-sex conversation. The deep stuff. This is what Attie feared. Why couldn't she have just kept her mouth shut? As she'd always thought, sex was easy, love was complicated. Friends. Lovers. Loved friends. Now that she had endorphins running around her body, her mind was confused. Was she in love with him? She should say something flip, like she didn't mean it. Laugh it off. Get out of bed, and tell Narc she had work to do. But she couldn't. She felt frozen to the bed and ashamed she had somehow hurt him. "You don't know, do you?" She smoothed the sheet, making small, tight creases where the material folded at his ahh-ha line. She laid three quick kisses on the length of the muscle curve. "I know the stories." "So you don't know." That stopped and frustrated her. "No. I guess I don't." She'd had other things on her mind, not listening to water-cooler chatter about how stuck on himself Narc was. People were bitching that looks weren't everything, but they sure as hell judged on looks. She'd fallen victim to that thinking the same as everyone else. No. She hadn't stood around to listen to the stories about him, but she'd heard them just the same. No one ever caught him to her recollection. They just talked smack behind his back. Every single goddess wanted to be near Narc. There was never a weekend that one of them didn't come back with some tasty little story. The first hundred or so years it was just irritating enough that she had stayed away from him simply because of his looks. But then, something had made her stop and not just listen but hear. All the stories included him as a character in them, or they were sightings of him, but none of the stories were about him, and that intrigued her. It was around that time

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that they had become friends. She'd been intrigued to know what he was really like. Was he what these goddesses said? Attie had sort of figured that whenever he wanted to address the rumors about him, he would. He scooted over, putting a cold distance between their intertwined bodies. The only other separation she had ever felt so sharply or painfully was when she and her sisters were banned from Olympus. She reached for him, surprised there was no hesitancy in her touch. Her old concern over asking how asking questions raised problems seemed to have vanished. She had to let him know she cared. She did not want to see him this way, pulling back into himself, not after what they had shared. It was too much like the hell she'd lived. She would not let him do it. "Will you tell me, please?" Narcissus glanced at her from the corner of her eye. The look he gave her read incredulous. "Are you kidding me?" His words stung her, but they were fair. "No. If you want to talk about it, I want to hear what you have to say. I want to know the truth of what happened." He seemed to debate whether he should do this. After a moment, he pulled her to his side and tucked her body in next to his. "Okay. We'll talk." Her head rested lightly on his chest where she could hear the thump of his heartbeat. She wanted to touch him, but he had placed them side by side. Though his arm was around her shoulder, he stared up at her ceiling. Together, but not. She took his cue and folded her hands over her stomach, accepting his pace of revelation. "Do you remember, Echo?" he began. "Like, personally, do you remember her?" Ashamed, she admitted, "Not really. She was a wood nymph. Cute. Willful. Shy. That's about all I can recall." "She was fun. Nice. Pretty enough, I suppose." His voice sounded like he questioned his memory, as if he didn't really remember either. "Despite all the rumors and the stories, I didn't really know her. She was always around, like a friend's little sister. I mean, I knew she was there, but didn't really pay attention like I should have. That's where all the stories come from, ya know?" Narcissus' heartbeat began to quicken. His skin grew warmer. "I thought," she cleared her throat, a little uncomfortable with where this conversation might lead. Attie wanted to believe, if only fleetingly

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that what they had shared might have been special. "I thought you and she had a bit of a thing." "Yeah. That's what everyone thought, but we didn't. She and I were friendly, but I had other things going on. You know about that, right? Too much going on to really let people in, share much with them?" She nodded. "I was young, stupid, and absorbed with myself. I wasn't paying attention to what she wasn't telling me. Now, don't get me wrong. I never led her on. Never at all." Attie thought it probably wouldn't take too much to make a woman fall in love with him. Her heart ached for the young wood nymph, but she was surprised it ached just as much for Narcissus. "Echo fell in love with me. That's what they called it anyway, love. I saw it wasn't. I've always said she became infatuated with me. Obsessed, really. I talked to her rarely. Like when I passed by or waved a good morning, but I didn't ignore her. I wasn't mean. If I knew then what I know now…" He took a deep breath. "No one knew how she was letting herself go. No one told me. No one else seemed to be looking out for her either. She wouldn't eat or sleep." "How do you know? I mean, if you weren't talking to anyone about it." "It became painfully obvious. It was her mother talking to my mother that started our just barely skimming the surface of her obsession. But by the time that conversation took place it was too late. No one could reach her. She hid in the forest and watched me during the day. She darted tree to tree. Finally, when she was so tired and wasting away at the end, she just kinda hung out." Attie stifled her surprise. No wonder he took issue with her watching her subjects. "That's one of the things I've always admired about you." "Admired about me?" "Yeah. For the most part, you show yourself to people. You get right out there and walk among them. Talk to them. Even when you could have hung out at Olympus, you didn't. You're a hands-on kinda girl." He offered her a weak smile and kissed her hands. She blushed. He was getting uncomfortable and off topic, but Attie was intrigued. He'd brought this up and she needed to know the truth, maybe as much as he needed to share it with someone. If she left it now,

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if she went where his sinful lips were leading, it would have been sex for sex and she didn't want that. "So what happened?" His body betrayed him. He started a little at her question. "No one really knew about it until it was too late. She just quit living. Like I said, she didn't eat or drink. She focused all of her energy into calling out for me but not voicing that call. I guess she thought if she wished it hard enough or long enough I would hear what she didn't say." That was so sad. "Words have power." "Yes. They do." "Do you think you would have listened, if she'd said it?" "I'd like to think so." "But you're not sure." He shook his head. "I guess we're never sure of what we would have done. No way to know either." She knew she sounded like a bitch, but now that he'd started his story, she wanted all the answers. She wanted him to really open up to her. She had shared her body, the most important, sacred object she had, with him. She needed to feel he was willing to do the same. This story defined the man, at least, so far as most people knew. She wanted to know more. "What's that have to do with the river?" "Ahh, my sweet Attie. The river. Everyone at Olympus thought I thought I was too good, too attractive for a wood nymph. That that was what kept us apart and that I was so impressed with myself, so in love with my own image that I sat by the river staring at my reflection because that's all there is and was." Attie thought on that a moment. Attractive yes, but she could not picture him ogling himself in the river. She couldn't remember ever seeing him check himself out in a mirror or a reflection of any sort. When they hung out at the sports bar he specifically sat facing away from reflective surfaces. "They thought I stared into the water for me and in a way they are right. I did do it for me, but not because I ever wanted to look at my face. I could go the rest of my life without ever seeing my face again. I detest seeing my perfection." "What?" "I'm not perfect." Attie didn't know what to say to that. "It's like looking at a da Vinci."

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The hand that had clasped her shoulder let go. She felt it fluttering in the air to accentuate his point, but she was focused on Narc's face. The lines on his forehead, the creases at the corner of his mouth. Little things she'd never seen. Details that made him even more perfect than an image. "Da Vinci was skilled." "Yes. He was. But just like most great artists, it's picture on top of picture, and most of the da Vincis people have seen are reproductions or fakes. They aren't his work. I feel like that." "A fraud?" "No. But I'm not what everybody thinks I am." She placed a quick kiss on his lush lips. "Who is?" His gaze caught hers and held. "You." Attie snorted. "You're kidding, right?" "You are everything you say you are. Me? I'm a pretty boy who was too wrapped up in the little things to help someone, one person, who I really could have. She was sick. I know that. And I also know it wasn't really love and it probably didn't even have anything to do with me, but if I'd listened…if someone had just listened. It wouldn't have gone that way." "And you somehow think you can change this how?" Attie was confused. Confused by Narc's hurt, by how personally he had taken Echo's demise. How no one knew about this struggle he had every day, the guilt he carried. Narc met everyone with a smile, often a joke. They saw his beauty and not the man. "Once she faded away, we could only hear our own calls to her reverberating back. It was like she was just whatever we wanted her to be. That's why I asked if you remember her. Even I don't really remember. Isn't that sad? The entire situation was fucked up. So, I took some time and reevaluate my priorities." "Smart." "Water is a part of my family. It's in my blood. I find it soothing and calming. So, I went there. One day, from the corner of my eye I thought I saw her." "Echo?" "Yeah. In the water, and never when I looked directly at it. Only a peripheral sort of thing. She mostly stayed hidden, but…" His story trailed off. "What! You can't leave me hanging on a note like that."

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He scratched his nose. "People thought I was crazy, probably still do. They thought I was so into me, that I sat there staring at myself, mumbling to myself, but I wasn't crazy. I wasn't talking to myself. I was apologizing to Echo." "Wow." Taking a long breath, he finally said. "Yeah." They lay there, in her dark room filled with lives half finished, just starting, and those ended and ready for the recycle bin holding onto each other, thinking about what had just been said. That took a lot of courage on his part. "Thank you." "For what?" Narcissus asked. "For sharing that with me." "Thanks for letting me." Now that this communication thing was open, Attie apparently didn't know how to stop herself. It was as if not only had a door been flung open, it had been removed from its hinges and taken away. "Why haven't you told me about this before?" "I wasn't sure you cared." The simple truth told to her so plainly touched Attie. "And you do now?" He licked his lips. "Am I wrong?" "Do you still care about Echo?" "That's the problem, Att. I never cared about Echo. She was just someone I knew, sort of. Another person out there in the universe." He ran a hand through his hair. That didn't seem to satisfy him so he scrubbed at his face. "I care that I didn't care. I care that I hurt her. Even though it was totally unintentional, that's a horrible feeling I'll never be rid of. Not even after I got to apologize to her, not even after she accepted, that feeling, it didn't go away. It's a part of me. It's scary and something I was completely unprepared for." "How does someone prepare for that?" "We're gods. We live and know immortal." "For the most part." "Life's scary and fragile and weak." "Yeah. Tell me about it." She crawled so she sat astride his hard, defined stomach desperate to feel that oneness she had experienced during their lovemaking. She rubbed her hands up his chest, watching as

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her fingers made tiny paths through his chest hair. "You can't hold onto that feeling forever. You have to let it go." He didn't make a move to stop her. Instead, he just looked sad. His gaze followed the movements of her hands and he shifted slightly under her. "You don't understand." "Bullshit. I understand it," she said. Narcissus narrowed his eyes. He lay there silent until she continued. "I understand it probably better than anyone else in the world. You trusted me and you shared with me. You're right. I care. You're one of the few people I do care about. So listen. Please, I need you to listen to me on this. You've got to take that emotion. Take that…" Narcissus stopped her roving hands, held them in his, and gently squeezed. Heavens this was hard. She wanted to run. To move away. She didn't want him to look at her when she said the words. The dark of the room was not dark enough. She could still feel him looking at her. Somewhere down deep inside she had always wanted people to look at her, to really see her. Now that she had someone doing it, she wanted nothing more than to vanish. "Keep going." Seeing. Watching. Listening. All of that and he wasn't running. He had talked to her, let her into his world. He had exposed himself to her and he deserved the same in return. She swallowed, steadied her voice, and spoke in calm, smooth tones. "Echo wasn't your friend. She wasn't your enemy." "Right." Just say it, Attie. Say the words. Hear your words. "That one exchange, that one sadness, that one loss you've experienced, that hurt you, and I know it did. I am not trying to diminish that at all. Take that and multiply it by millions, billions. That's what I do every day. I steal peoples' loved ones and their children. I take them. I cut their threads and move on to the next one. I don't do it because I want to. I never have. Nor do I do it because of emotion or hatred. That's what I was out there doing tonight. I was making sure I knew why I was doing it, that I wasn't biased in my decree." "Why, then, do you think you do it?" And there it was. The question people most wanted to ask, but none dared. "I do it because it's life." She pulled away, slid off his chest and sat beside him, not bothering to take the covers with her. Attie sat with

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her knees raised to her chin, hugging them tightly with her arms. She tucked her feet under Narcissus' ribs. "I do it because it's my job." He frowned. She shrugged. "Someone has to. There has to maintain a balance. People can't live forever. There is a time for everything. Birth and death. I do my job because it has to be someone impartial who can deal evenly across the board. Don't get me wrong. I'm really, really glad it's me and not one of the Furies. Hera's little bitches would have made this earth age unbearable." She took a deep breath. Yes, it was hard to talk about, but also liberating. With each word she felt the kink in her shoulders loosening, the emptiness of spirit alleviating. "But every day, every instance I have to call someone's time, I get a little taste of what you experienced there with Echo." Attie watched Narc offer a sharp nod, then waited as his gaze roamed all around her dark chamber. She held her breath as he hesitated briefly at her workstation. Her desk, a large, old-fashioned oak number with a gazillion drawers, had string of all shape, texture, and length draped over it. It seemed as if he were processing what she said. As if there was some battle waging deep within him. A part that believed and knew the truth of her words, yet another that wanted the grief to be his alone. "You think you caused her death, right? You've tortured yourself over it." "I did!" "No. You didn't. For that matter, I didn't either, though I did cut her thread." Slowly she pulled him upright into a sitting position next to her. Without a word, she willed a flame to the candles surrounding her bed so they could look upon each other with full light. No more darkness. Not between them. Her fingers framed the handsome angles of his square jaw. "It wasn't Chloe, or Lu, or Chesis. It wasn't Zeus or Hera. Echo had her time, just as everyone has their time. Whether it is long or short, it is their time and they are responsible for it." He started to shake his head, but she held firm. "You cannot take that from her. Don't do that to her. To her memory. That's hers. Echo chose what to do with her time. She chose to not live that which was gifted her. You didn't, but wasting away from guilt and grief is throwing your life away, too. No. You didn't love her. You didn't even notice her, and I know you are sorry about that, but it was her choice to fade away."

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Attie noticed how hard her heartbeat pounded in her chest and that the vein at the base of Narc's throat had a matching rapid tempo. She felt free. She heard her own words and was liberated by them. "You didn't do it. And though I mark time, I limit time; I do not take anything from mortal or god. Those people tonight lived a lifetime. They loved a lifetime. If they had fifty more years, it would not diminish what they have had or what they have shared. They chose to live the time they had." She studied him. This time she looked upon him with compassion and love. With the eyes of a lover and a friend. She knew him and that knowing had left her wanting more, yes, but it had also made her feel so alive, so complete, so full. Softly, she pressed a kiss to his lips. He did not pull away, so she gently increased the pressure. Her lips brushed delicately over his. With small quick bites, she nibbled at his bottom lip and just when he acted as though he were going to delve into the kiss, she stopped. Her teeth and lips closed over his bottom lip. Her gaze rose until she and Narc locked eye contact. Then slowly, deliberately she sucked and released his lip, centimeter by centimeter. Once it was released completely she went in for the kill. Slanting her head slightly she brushed her mouth with his. Narc slipped his hand around behind her head, controlling her actions, keeping her in one place so he could deepen the kiss. Stop the tease. "Attie," he whispered. She moaned and ran her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in how he let her, how he trusted her to appreciate him as a man. Their mouths devoured each other. They ate hungrily at the offered feast of love and companionship. His hand slid under her shapely thigh. His fingers worked the sensitive flesh. She giggled and wriggled away. He pinned her to the bed, masculinity flaring wild. Attie liked it. She lay flat on the bed, looking up at him, and breathing heavy. "Nice distraction, Att." "Isn't it though?" Her words came in short, breathless gasps. "But I was thinking about a little more than a distraction. More than tonight." His blond brow rose. "Not just this…event?" She was nervous, but gung-ho. "My calendar's open if yours is. I've existed a little too long without living. I don't want to do that any more. I've been apart from connection too long. You've let me taste a bit of what a connection could be." He cocked his head to the side. "A little taste?"

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"Yeah. You know that, right?" She hedged a bit but finally she looked him right in the eyes. "Both of us need some education in this arena, I think." "Ya think?" "Yeah. I also think we could learn together, if you're up for it. The blind leading the blind, so to say. This might just be the perfect learning experiment of our lives. Love, connection, patience, fun, fanfuckintastic sex. Who wouldn't want to at least delve into that a little? Give it a shot to work?" She waited. "Wow, Att. I never thought I'd ever hear you say that." His smile widened. The dimple in his cheek deepened and his white teeth flashed right before he laughed. "You're right. It's perfect." "Of course, I'm right," she said with a contented sigh. She lowered her lips to his and whispered. "Now, what do you say? Let's get on with living."

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About the Author Everyone sees the world a little different. Award winning, multipublished author Kally Jo Surbeck just sees additional worlds and stories. Like (hopefully) the bards of the past she translates those stories to the reader to enrich and enliven their world. The characters might be contemporary assassins or demigods of the ancient past, but they all carry the strongest belief Kally has: HOPE. Hope for something, anything...everything. Of course there is humor, love, and all that fast paced action she loves as well. She can be reached at her website, www.kallyjosurbeck.com, and you can keep up with her activities at her yahoo groups: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/KallyJoSurbeckAuthor_group/ or become a friend at http://www.myspace.com/kjwriter .

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Chasing Luck Melissa Schroeder

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To Joy Harris—a woman who truly lives up to her name in body, mind and spirit. Your support to the reading community and authors is unmatchable. I truly feel blessed that fate sent you to us. Mel

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Prologue "I would like to know where she is. What she is doing." The command in Hera's voice was unmistakable, even though she was trying to fake her concern. The god who now went by the name Chase Franklin studied the goddess as if she were a bug. It was the way to deal with them, as he had for several hundred years. If anyone showed emotion, the gods tended to use it for their gain. He hadn't had a visitation in quite a few years, and at first had been taken aback by the beautiful, golden haired goddess. She appeared in his house, in the middle of nowhere, all smiles and sensuality. A mortal man would have dropped to his knees and begged for a fuck. Thankfully for him, he wasn't a mortal. If one looked closely beneath Hera's beauty, he would see the hatred and cold bitterness in her eyes. But a normal man would not see that. "That's not all you want." No, from the look on her face, to the irritation swirling in the room, that was not what she wanted. She wanted something to do with the 'rebel' Fate. "I have a need to speak with her, about one of her sisters." She told the lie easily. He knew there was more to it than that, something probably very sinister. He felt nothing as he cared little about what the inhabitants of Olympus did on a regular basis. As long as they left him be, they could all torture each other until the ends of time. "And why would I do that? I've steered clear of these skirmishes for quite some time, as you well know. What would I have to do with Luck?" She paced, the, long dark purple skirts swished angrily with each step. "She just set up shop in your town." For a moment, his mind zeroed on the newest inhabitant of Simonville, Texas—Lu Fortune. From the day she appeared he'd been drawn to her, although he fought the need he had for her. He'd sensed something there, but he would never have guessed that was what drew him to her. More than once, he'd almost given into the lure of his

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abilities—ones he had ignored for over one hundred years—and visited her in her dreams. He took a sip of his longneck, enjoying the yeasty taste of the beer, as he built a wall to her probing, physic fingers. He could feel them as she tried to find out his reaction. "And, again, what would I have to do with Luck?" She stopped in front of him, her anger lashing out at him. A mortal would have melted under the heat of it, but he'd built his defenses well, and didn't feel a thing. He may live as a mortal, but he wasn't as stupid as most of them. As they continued their stare down, he raised the bottle to his mouth and took another drink. Hera continued to study him, her eyes turning darker with each passing second as her vindictive hatred grew. He knew his unwillingness to live as a god was an irritation, but that was not what she was after. He wanted nothing to do with them, and they could care less. There was something else she wanted, something she wanted to destroy. He knew her nature well. So, when she smiled, the cold predatory smile of a snake about to strike, his muscles tenses for the hit. "I will give you what you seek." It took every bit of his power to keep his reaction from showing. Years, hundreds of years, he had planned and plotted. Now it seemed nothing would happen, that he would not make it come true, he'd left his world and began to live among the mortals. That was almost one hundred mortal years earlier. It didn't mean that every day he didn't regret never fulfilling his quest. There were times when the anger of the situation, of the hatred he felt, surfaced in his dreams and he attained what he truly wanted, craved. "And how will you help me?" He was amazed his voice had remained neutral. Leaning closer, her smile widened. "Get me Luck, and I will help you with your revenge."

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One "I heard when we have us a full moon, she's like one of 'em nymphos on Springer." Chase Franklin sighed when he heard the comment. He knew exactly whom Jason was talking about. Not that he would object to the idea of Lu Fortune being a nympho, especially if he was the recipient of the excess emotion, but his two youngest deputies, Jason Edwards and Ned Waters, had developed an unhealthy fascination with the Fate Chase was watching. Ned, not to be outdone, added his theory. "Hmm. I just heard she was a witch." Yeah, she was a witch. One who visited him on more than one occasion, haunting his dreams as she seduced his body, leaving him crazed with lust, with no hope for relief. Even just the passing thought of his erotic dreams had his body heating, his cock rock hard. "You know what?" Jason apparently had decided to up the pissing challenge. "I hear there's a full moon tonight." Both of them snickered, and Chase chose not to wait any longer. Pushing the door to the outer office open all the way, he strode into the room. They broke apart the moment they heard the heels of his boots smacking against the concrete floor. "What you boys doing out here?" They turned, both of their faces flushing in embarrassment as if they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Well, at least a different kind of cookie jar, and they had just been perusing one of the cookies. "We were just…" Jason's voice faded as he swallowed visibly, his skin paling. Being a gangly redhead, he couldn't afford to lose any more color. The wealth of freckles became more pronounced. His light blue gaze darted to Ned, then back to Chase. The sheer terror in them made Chase feel the weight of all his years. "It's just that…well, we were taking a break."

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Chase moved his attention from Jason to Ned. Where Jason was all Opie in his looks, right down to the accent, Ned, while he had the accent, was his direct opposite in coloring. Dark hair, a bit overgrown and always a mess, darker skin from his Hispanic mother, and light brown eyes from his father, Ned stood about a head shorter than his best friend. The two things they had in common, other than they sounded like the stepped out of an episode of Andy Griffith, was that they were greener than a field of clover and they couldn't tell a lie without giving it away. Playing poker with them would be easy pickings. "Taking a break? So, you got the report on the vandalism at the high school gym done?" Chase asked Jason. "Ahh, no. I'll get to it right now, sir." He tossed a look of regret back at the window, then hurried to his desk. He turned his attention to Ned again. "And I guess you entered all the reports in the log for the Simonville Sun?" Ned cleared his throat three times, then opened his mouth but no sound came out. Taking pity on the young man, Chase said, "Go finish it." The moment Ned scurried away, Chase approached the large window that faced the street. It was hard not feeling every bit as old as his four hundred years when he dealt with the young deputies. But in all those years, he'd never felt as comfortable as he did in Simonville. He'd proven it by staying there over ten years. Something in the air of the small southwestern Texas town called to him. The object of the nympho/witch discussion was standing outside of her bookstore, directly across the street from his office. Hands on hips, she studied the storefront. The moment she'd arrived in town Chase knew there was something different about her. Granted, he knew part of it was her style. In a town filled with mainly ranching families, Lu stood out with her penchant for brightly colored clothing. Most of time, she wore full, ankle length skirts and belly shirts that showed a hint of skin and her belly ring. It was an odd combination to be sure, but for some reason it worked on her. With curling golden brown hair that reached her waist, sun-kissed skin, and those fabulous Caribbean blue eyes, she seemed comfortable in the role of the bohemian of the town. Considering the way she'd struck out on her own from her family, she played the part to the hilt. Damn Hera and all her games. Not for the first time since learning that Lu could be the answer to his wish, he'd cursed the goddess.

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Knowing Hera, she'd sniffed out the fact that Chase had been completely and utterly fascinated with Lu. Although Chase hadn't lacked for companionship, she'd been the first woman since his arrival to Simonville he'd actually thought about dating. Even if they'd had a few run-ins, one involving his truck and her little convertible, he'd thought he might be able to convince her to drive into San Angelo for dinner and a movie. It was not with some regret he had to use her in a completely different manner than previous planned. She glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his directly. The jolt of those eyes, the way they narrowed as she apparently realized he was staring at her, sent a wave of heat through him, warming his blood and hardening his cock. Damn, if she wasn't just his type. Sassy, mouthy, and filled out like a real woman. Even knowing she was Luck didn't change his fascination. As she turned back around and ignored Hermes babbling beside her, Chase felt the draw. There was something there, something that slipped beneath his skin. It agitated at the same time it aroused. But, he just couldn't get her out of his head, even before Hera had offered him his revenge. Chase was damned to betray her for what he wanted, needed. Knowing that the job he had ahead of him was one he needed to do and that Hermes appearing wasn't a good sign, Chase decided to head across the street to see what the resident bookseller of Simonville was up to today.

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Two "I told you your father wants to speak with you on a matter of some importance," Hermes said for the third time. Lu sighed, realizing her father's messenger wouldn't leave her alone. She'd been so happy the past few months in the little Texas town, living a somewhat normal life, content with her bookstore and her customers. If she ignored the monstrously bad luck whenever she ran into the Sheriff. As irritating as she found him—all alpha, have to be in charge men did irritate her—each argument left her feeling extremely aroused. And, to top it off, she was pretty sure it was reciprocated. The hormonally charged atmosphere left her dizzy after one of their run-ins. Probably because she was used to winning, but with him she usually ended up tied. That was enough to put her on edge, but there was something else she was missing, something about him she just didn't trust. Beneath that cool exterior lurked another man. She could almost feel it. Darker, dangerous, passionate. She knew he'd had a few women here and there, but she was sure not one of them saw what she saw. It bothered her that she couldn't figure that out or the fact whenever he was around, she wanted to smack him or jump him. Or both. Most mortals were easy to pin, but she wasn't so sure big, hunky Chase Franklin with his luminous green eyes and body made for sin was actually mortal. For one thing, not many of them made her feel like a cat in heat. Aroused? Yes. Through the centuries she'd been there and done that, in assorted positions. But, she'd never felt as if she needed to rub against something—preferably him—to release the tension he caused. She'd been formulating just what to do about him when her newly acquired home front had been invaded by her father. Well, not even him. He didn't bother with her or her sisters anymore. He just sent Hermes. "You can't ignore a summons, Luck." Hermes' ominous tones were—as usual—a bit on the melodramatic side. Lu had always thought that if Hermes hadn't already had a gig, he'd done well in dinner theater in Florida. "Yes. I can."

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She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, trying to quell the delicious shiver sliding through her. Every hormone in her body bounced in anticipation. Since finding Chase watching her, as he did more than he probably would admit, her body had been warming as if preparing for their confrontation. No matter what the occasion, she seemed to know when she'd grabbed his attention. And more than once, even after the little mishap with her car, she'd almost felt his hands sliding on her skin. Hermes shifted beside her, his presence sucking all the joy out of her day. "Your father said he had something of grave importance to discuss with you." She shot him a look of disgust out of the corner of her eye. Lu was pretty sure her father had noticed the lack of luck being bestowed upon people. She'd made fewer and fewer trips in the last few months. Since she'd found Simonville, she'd gotten caught up in her dream to be normal and her time for trips had dwindled. When she heard the crunch of gravel behind her, she knew Chase had made his way across the street. Which was the main reason she'd stood out in the heat, hoping to tempt him into another round of sparring. It was sad and pathetic, but she didn't seem to have any kind of pride when it came to Chase. "Listen, Hermes," she said under her breath. Since no one else could see him, she was sure her reputation for being "different" would gain more ground today. And she didn't want that. She would never accomplish what she wanted to do if that happened. "Even if my father has somehow gotten me permission to return—" "Oh, he would never do that." He said it with such self-assuredness it stabbed her in the heart. After so many centuries, it still hurt that doing the right thing cost her any kind of family except the occasional contact with one of her sisters. She rubbed her hand over her chest. When she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand and straightened her shoulders. "I don't care if my father has called everyone to Mount O to renounce his crown and bestow all his power unto me. I am not in the mood." Before the messenger could respond, Chase closed in them. Just before he reached them, Hermes said, "Remember, I warned you." In the next instant, he was gone, leaving her with the feeling she missed something in that summons, but not really caring. She'd stopped caring about her father years ago, or at least pretended to. All that she felt for him was the familiar ache of loss, and even that had been false.

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She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at Sheriff Franklin. His steps faltered, then he continued on. "How are you doing today, Sheriff?" He shoved his hands in his pockets. She was distracted by the action because he seemed to do it a lot in her presence. And it always led her to dip her gaze lower, to the bulge behind his zipper. When she realized she'd done it again, she shook her head and looked at his face. From the flush on his cheeks, he apparently knew where her attention had centered. "I'm doing fine." "And you are as talkative as usual." She turned back around, knowing it would make him step up beside her. "Is there something I can help you with?" He paused, then stepped up on the sidewalk. "No, just saw you standing out here." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I had no idea you were interested in my movements." There was a beat of silence, and something she couldn't define came and went in his eyes. Then he said, "I caught two of my deputies sharing comments about you. You seem to be distracting them on a regular basis." The reproving tone in his voice irritated her. It caused her to retaliate in kind. "Really? Sounds like an excuse to come see me." He ignored her remark. "So, what are you doing out here?" "I'm trying to figure out what kind of display to do next. I wanted to do something a little different for the upcoming holidays." As he turned back to examine her window, Lu studied his profile. He was a tall one, all lean muscle, unruly hair, and a strong jaw— something she loved on a man. Not to mention—she thought as she leaned back a bit—a tight ass. "See something you like there?" The condescending amusement grated down her spine. He hadn't even looked but kept his attention on the window. Embarrassment stole through her when she realized he'd been watching her reflection instead of looking at the Halloween display. Which made sense, since he'd passed it every day for close to a month. Wanting to retreat into her store now before she said something else to embarrass herself further, she dug her keys out of her pocket.

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"Well, it was once again nice chatting with you, Sheriff. I need to get things going before I open at ten." Thinking he would likely run the other direction, happy to be rid of her, she strode forward and unlocked the door. As she stepped through, the bell over the door sounded. She breezed in, not noticing the door didn't immediately close. When it did, the bell would chime telling her the door had shut. She turned and found that big, beautiful Chase Franklin had followed her. The steely determination in his eyes caused her stomach muscles to clench and her body to warm. He looked pissed, and Lord knew that was apparently an aphrodisiac for her. "Ms. Fortune, I think we should have a chat."

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Three Chase studied Lu, wondering just what the hell was going through her mind. He'd never been that good at reading minds undetected. Shit, none of his skills were that good. For years after Chase's grandfather's request had been fulfilled, he'd disdained any use of them. Especially when he realized Zeus had done it for his own damn purposes. "Now, Sheriff, just what do you want to discuss? I mean, I haven't broken any laws—" "Not recently. But then, you walked to work today, didn't you?" She pokered up just as he thought she would. Her skin flushed, her body vibrated with indignation, and another feeling of lust rolled through him. Damn, the woman did mad really well. "That accident was your fault. And I'm waiting for parts. Besides, it's a waste of a fabulous day not to walk." He ignored her snipping tone and walked further into her store. Just like the owner, the shop exuded clashes of color that just seemed to work. They should overpower a person, but it seemed to draw you in. He hadn't been in before because he avoided her as much as possible since Hera had appeared. Even before that, Lu made him itchy from the inside out. Since she'd bought the store and set up shop, the place had been doing good business. The closest place to shop was in San Angelo, but more people were curious about her. After hearing his deputies go on about her, he understood now why the two of them had developed a sudden interest in books. "Really, I have to get ready for my customers." "I'm not stopping you." He looked over the sections and was amused to find an extensive Mythology section. Lu probably got a kick out of people buying them. "Your very presence distracts me." "Hmm, well that's interesting to know." Truthfully, the admission had heat pulsing through his veins, his cock twitching. "Why is that?"

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She mumbled something under her breath, then said, "I can't concentrate with people around." He didn't laugh but it was a close call. "Sure, that's understandable since you're surrounded by people all day." Noticing a book about The Fates, he picked it up and thumbed through it. "Maybe it's just you. Maybe you bug me and I don't like you snooping around my store." He didn't answer, just kept looking through the book. She huffed, then stepped in front of him, grabbing the book out of his hands. "What do you want?" He tried his best to look innocent, but he realized it wasn't working when one eyebrow rose. So he tried a different approach. "I'm wondering why I bother you." Her smugness dissolved, and she turned to place the book on the shelf. "You just bother me, that's all. I want you to leave me alone." "You could have fooled me." She turned to face him and frowned. "I do? I haven't done anything to you, well lately, and I want you to leave me alone." A mixture of alarm and suspicion whipped through him. Had Hermes warned her? If Zeus had gotten a whiff of Hera's plans, it would fuck up all Chase's plans. And she was a bit on the wary side since they came in the store. He had to keep his cool, stay controlled. "I do have things to do." Her authoritative tenor in her voice told him she expected no argument. She was pushing him away when normally she would be ready to spar. Something was definitely off. Panic clawed at his throat, almost overwhelming his good sense. Maybe she did hear something. He had to do something, quick. Lu wasn't any more immune to him than he was to her. So he did the one thing he could think of. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her against him. Her eyes widened, her mouth formed an "O" the moment before he bent his head and took advantage. **** The moment Chase's mouth descended on hers, all thought fled from Lu's mind. Her initial response was shock. She just couldn't believe he upped and grabbed her. There had to be a reason for it because the man seemed to weigh every decision he made. From what shirt to wear to the crossing the street, he probably didn't do anything without a list of pros and cons. But this was completely and utterly unplanned. She was

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sure of it. There had been a hint of something in his gorgeous eyes she'd seen a second he'd touched his lips to hers. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it fear, or panic. But before she could decipher the intricacies of Chase Franklin's mind, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, and she was lost. He released her arms and wound his own around her, drawing her against him. The heat of his body warmed hers, but she was already hot. As he slanted his mouth over hers, she shivered, delight stealing through her. Slipping her hands up his arms, she wound her arms his neck. Chase groaned as Lu pressed closer, rubbing her hardened nipples against his chest. Sliding his hands down her back, he pulled her skirt up and he cupped her ass. Since she'd forgone panties like she did most mornings, his hands met bare flesh. He faltered for a second, her name a moan from his mouth, then he lifted her against him. Without a thought she wrapped her legs around his waist, moving her heated pussy against his cock. And he rewarded him with another groan. Stumbling over to her checkout counter, he placed her on cool surface. Abandoning her lips, he slid his mouth over the tender skin just beneath her jaw. The feel of his mouth and his tongue on her flesh sent another delightful surge of heat through her blood. As she played with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, she moved closer to the edge of the counter. Chase aided, his hands still molded to her ass. Then, she felt his finger slip down between her cheeks. Now she was the one moaning his name, her body shivering. The heat that had been coursing through her now gathered in her belly, the muscles contracting almost painfully. He continued, moving his fingers as he dipped his head down to her chest. Lu leaned back to give him better access. Without stopping to pull the fabric away, he flicked his tongue over one nipple. The next instant, his wet, hot mouth captured the turgid tip. She felt his tongue, his lips, then the scrape of teeth. The fabric moved against her nipple with every move he made, creating more friction. Moving to the other nipple, he gave it the same treatment, murmuring her name against her skin as he did. Dampness surged to her sex. She wanted this. She wanted him inside of her, thrusting, pushing her over the edge. Her body demanded relief and satisfaction. Trailing her hands down to his jeans, she

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unsnapped the button. Before she could slip the zipper down, the bell sounded, heralding a customer. Just like that, reality came crashing down around her. She snatched her hand away from him and tried to move back. He followed, his hands now slipping up her back to brace her. "Chase." He just murmured something unintelligent, then grabbed the top edge of her shirt with his teeth and started to pull it down. The action made her lose track of what was happening. "She wouldn't have the door unlocked if she wasn't in here, Bea." The voice of one of her most frequent customers, Harold Smith shook her out of her daze. She was thankful that the counter wasn't visible from the front door. Pushing against his shoulders, she said, "Chase. Dammit, Chase, I have customers." He raised his head and looked down at her. Desire still darkened his eyes. The look so primal it almost had her saying "Screw the Smiths, fuck me now." But a moment later, he shook his head, as if he too had been in a daze. "Shit." "Yeah, I agree. The Smiths are about to appear around the corner of that bookcase." She pointed to the area and he flicked a glance there. He still didn't move away so she could get off the counter. "Chase, you have to move." He frowned, reminding her of a child being denied a treat. His fingers flexed against her flesh before he released her and stepped back. As he ran his fingers through his unruly hair trying to straighten it, she hopped down from the counter. When she hit the wooden floor, her bare feet smacked against it. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost her sandals. Lu glanced at Chase, who was still trying to right himself, and paused. He was so delectably mussed up. His hair still looked like she'd been messing with it, his shirt was eschew, and his jeans were still unsnapped. For the first time in a long time, true mirth bubbled up and she giggled at the picture he presented. He looked, well, ravished. His head whipped around at the sound, his eyes narrowed on her. Lu figured a lot of women would be scared of the mean look in his eyes. It just made her laugh more. "I told you she was here, Bea." She turned her attention to her customers. Somewhere in their mid to late seventies, the Smiths had moved here when Mr. Smith had retired

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from the military some thirty years earlier. They'd been steady customers since she'd opened. They were both white haired, and the years of marriage apparently had caused them to resemble each other in appearance and demeanor. The shrewd look in their eyes sent a heated flush to her face. It was like getting caught by a parent—something she'd never been particularly worried about before. She cleared her throat. "How are you all doing today?" The knowing smile that spread over both their faces made her blush even more. Bea Smith said, "Apparently not as well as you, dear."

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Four Stealing a glance at Chase out of the corner of her eye, Lu noticed the completely blank look on his face and decided she'd get no help from him. She laughed. "Is there anything I can help you find today?" "No, dear," Mr. Smith said. "We'll just do some browsing." They wandered off to the Western Fiction section on the other side of the bookcase. Turning to face Chase, she laughed again at the irritated look on his face. "I want to know what you find so funny about all of this." "Well, other than I bet you never got caught copping a feel, with your pants undone, by one of your townsfolk, the look on your face is priceless." He looked down, apparently just now realizing she'd undone his jeans. "Dammit, Lu," he said as he quickly snapped his pants. "This isn't funny. It'll be all over town by lunchtime." She shrugged, knowing it was true, but it wouldn't last. There was always something that grabbed their interest and took the people of Simonville in another direction. "Maybe they'll say I cast a spell on you with my witchy powers." He stopped fidgeting to give her a glare. "This ain't over, Lu." With that said, he stomped out of the shop, leaving her laughing. But the merriment soon dissolved when she remembered her reaction to seeing him in her shop. There was something wrong in the air, something telling her to be careful of him. She'd never had the feeling before. Actually, from the moment she met him, all she could think about was getting him naked. Facing him, she'd felt something whisper across her senses, some kind of dread that had chilled her to her very bones. There had been only once or twice she'd felt that and it usually had something to do with her father. Or that bitch Hera. Dammit, now she regretted not listening to Hermes. She heard the bell tinkle again and shook off her worry to get to work.

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**** Chase splashed cold water on his face, trying to cool down. He'd actually made it across the street, through the office and into the bathroom without encountering anyone, thank the gods. As he raised his gaze to the mirror, he winced at the image staring back at him. Water dripped from his face, his skin was flushed and his body was still throbbing. He'd been caught practically screwing the one woman he shouldn't. That hadn't been in the plan at all. Okay, so in the beginning it had been, but not since Hera had offered up revenge on a gold plated platter. The only thing he had to do was hand over the one thing he couldn't resist coveting. "Things aren't going that well, are they, Chase?" Chase jumped and looked up in the mirror to see a very angry Hera watching him. This time, she didn't try to look inviting. She looked pissed. Fire practically leaped in her eyes as the paper towel and soap dispensers rattled. He turned to face her, thinking it better than having his back exposed to the bitch. He knew more than one man had regretted not doing that. "Everything is going fine." She smiled, but there was no pleasure or seduction in it. Cold, hard hatred was all he could see. "Really? So, you want to explain what the hell Zeus' right hand boy was doing here today?" Damn. She had to have spies somewhere. "I have no idea. I do know that whatever he said, Luck rebuffed him. He went away upset." Some of her anger turned into sadistic amusement. That was worse. Although the fixtures settled, the cold slice of her humor chilled him. "Yes. Hermes often does when it comes to the Fates. Especially that one. She has a habit of being particularly independent." He waved that away and decided to call her hand. "Listen, Hera, you could fuck up this whole deal. You being here is not a good idea. First Hermes, then you. Luck will definitely think something is up. I don't need any more obstacles." Hera studied him, allowing her gaze to travel down then back to his face. "You have a problem with getting Luck to listen to you? Are you losing your touch?"

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"No. But she sensed something today, I'm sure of it. Something that made her very wary of me. Add that with all the godly visits to our little town, well, she isn't stupid." His very tone suggested Hera was, though. He wanted to make sure she didn't think she had the upper hand on him. History had warned him that a woman as nasty in her hatred as Hera was more dangerous than ten male gods put together. She bristled. "I gave you a week. You've wasted more than half of it thinking. That always was your problem, Chase. You constantly plot, with little to no action." Apparently, she thought she'd made a dig, but it didn't even faze him. "Yeah, I guess I would want to be like Zeus who's impulsive and doesn't give one thought to fucking the nearest woman." All amusement drained from her expression. She was beyond mad now, but Chase knew the woman couldn't afford to push him away. If he turned, she'd never gain control of Olympus. She might even get expelled. He smiled thinking about that little twist. If it weren't for wanting to pay back Zeus for his idiocy centuries earlier, Chase would do it just for amusement. "Just do what you agreed. If you don't, I'll make sure you regret it." Then she disappeared, leaving him thinking he already did. **** Lu closed up for the night, her mind still turning over the worries in her head. There had been times in her past when Hermes showed up, all of them having to do with something that directly related to Zeus. The god never thought of anyone but himself and his own pleasure. If he sent Hermes, Lu was pretty sure that son of a bitch wanted something from her. Not that he would get it and that is what bugged her. They'd had a run in a few years ago—okay, a few hundred years ago—and since then, he hadn't bothered with her. She was sure that her sisters had contact, but he'd learned his lesson with trying to get her to side with him in the last battle. Shaking away her unease, she turned and locked the door. "How's it going this evening, Ms Fortune?" Jason Edwards' voice cut into her thoughts, causing her to jump. She turned to face the young man. His fresh-faced good looks, along with the sly smile, made her feel older than her five thousand or so years. "Hello, Jason. Is there something I can help you with?"

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His smile grew and he stepped closer. Lu stifled a sigh when she realized that he had come a courting. "I was wondering if you would be interested in going out for a bite to eat." His hopeful expression sent a wave of guilt through her. She just didn't have it in her to be mean, which was troublesome for a Fate. Maybe Attie had been right when she warned of mingling with mortals. Caring for them was not a good idea. It clouded judgment. "I'd really love to, but I have plans for tonight." Jason, being young and optimistic, smiled wider. "Of course, I'd never expect you to say yes for tonight." She opened her mouth to explain that it was 'no' any night, but he stopped her by raising his hand. "No, don't answer now, Ms. Fortune. Just give it some thought." With that, he spun on his heel and sauntered down the sidewalk to the diner. The swagger in his walk told her that deterring him in the future wasn't going to be easy. This time she didn't stifle the sigh. She didn't have time to be gentle with a young man bent on romancing a much older woman. Poor thing didn't realize just how old. She turned to head home when she felt a chill against the back of her neck. Looking across the street, she expected to find Chase watching, but he wasn't standing behind the plate glass window as he usually did. Looking around, she saw no one, but she couldn't shake the feeling of someone—something—watching her. Another breath of chilly air swept across her neck and then down her spine. Unnerved, she decided to get home, out of harms way so she could regroup and think. On the way home, she saw no one. Odd, because she rarely made it five feet without running into someone who wanted to chat her up. But no one appeared as a cool wind blew down the center of the street. Something was really wrong, out of whack here. Trying not to let it bother her, she hurried to her little house a couple blocks over. She'd known when she saw the house it was where she needed to be. Restless for years, when she saw the simple, three-bedroom frame house, with its wrap-around porch, white fence and wonderful gardens, she just knew this is where she needed to be. Lu walked up the stairs to the porch, pulling out her keys, to unlock the door. Her senses were on alert but she didn't feel the threat that had snapped at her earlier. After getting inside and closing the door, she leaned against it, relieved to be in her home. She was pretty sure she was

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safe here, not that much could be done to her. But she wasn't sure one of the proprietors of Olympus wouldn't use the residents to get at her. Closing her eyes, she tried to blot out all of Attie's warnings and Chesis' and Chloe's suggestions. They'd all told her this was a bad idea and she didn't want to think they were right because she wanted this. Needed it. Something banged in the kitchen and she heard a whispered cuss. Lu's eyes shot open and she walked to the door that led to the kitchen. But before she could open it, it swung open, and her sister Attie came blowing into the room.

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Five Attie gave her a little smile and asked, "Lu, what are you doing?" "What does it look like I'm doing?" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?" This was too much for one Fate to handle in a day. Hermes, almost having sex on the counter of her store, young men asking her out, something wicked in the air, and now The Enforcer, as she called her sister Attie, popping in. Attie plopped down into the oversized suede chair, her legs dangling over one arm. "Hear Zeusy boy called you home." She rolled her eyes, dropping her purse on an end table, then picked up a few books sitting on the end table and carried them to her shelves. As she shelved the books, she answered, "Yeah, or well, he wanted to see me. He sent his lapdog to retrieve me." When Attie didn't respond, Lu turned to face her. She wasn't exactly frowning, but the humor had dimmed a bit. Lu stomped out the urge to tell her sister to mind her own business. It wouldn't work. It never did. "Did you go?" The gentle tone in Attie's voice bothered Lu more than she wanted to admit. She just wasn't use to Attie being so…well, moderate. Calm, yes. But caring and motherly just wasn't Attie. Lu shrugged, hoping to push away all the unsettling feelings the day had brought. "Do I ever?" Attie laughed. "Did butterfly heels give you the message?" She smiled. "Of course. Who else? He had all kinds of ominous statements and warnings. Same as usual." "You gonna listen?" She waved away the question. "I don't have time for Hermes or Zeus. Every time they warn me, it has to do with Zeus and his ego." She studied Attie, who was still smiling at her. She realized it had been a long time since she'd seen her sister that happy. Attie practically glowed. "So, what's up with you?"

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"Excellent!" Attie suddenly stood up. "Knew I could count on you. Now I want you to count on me. I came to tell you something...dark, ominous, threatening." "I'm kind of afraid to ask what that is." She joked as irritation curled into her belly. There was something completely off with her sister. "I've been thinking." "Always a dangerous activity." Instead of frowning, Attie just snorted and her smile grew. "Well, Chesis and Chloe, they got love. At first, I thought that maybe you and I balanced the scales, but…" She stopped, her gaze shifting uncomfortably. "But I was wrong. We can all have it, and I'll lay a trip to the Isles that your time's coming soon." Something uncomfortable shifted through her, something close to panic. "Don't be talking crazy, Attie." "I've always been crazy, but this time...I know some things. Yeah. That's right. I got laid." A pink flush leaped to her cheeks. "Eww, TMI, sister dear." Lu was really amazed how light she kept her voice, but the look in Attie's eyes told Lu she knew it was an act. Attie popped out of the chair and approached her. When she reached Lu, she placed a hand on each shoulder and captured her gaze. Earnest, straightforward Attie was sometimes a pain in the ass. "You need laid. Cuz if Lucky ain't getting lucky, the world is screwed. Know what I mean? Just think about it." She stepped back, blew her sister a kiss, and started to leave. She stopped, looked back over her shoulder. "I mean it. We can all have it. You, too. You've just got to stop running." Then she disappeared, leaving Lu more unsettled than before. Dammit. Attie, her last salvation. Chloe and Chesis, it was okay that they'd succumb to stupidity but, Lu had been so sure Attie had her head screwed on right. Fuck. Just because Attie'd gotten laid didn't mean anything. Just one little interlude in what, one thousand years? No big deal. But Lu knew it was, knew that Attie had been hurt long ago, and lately she'd sort of seemed lost to the rest of them. Her job had weighed heavily on her, Lu knew that, but just what the hell did she mean they could all find happiness? It wasn't like Lu hadn't had men. Just not too long ago she'd had a wonderful affair with that Italian actor, a mortal at that. It hadn't been that long, had it? She counted back and realized it had been ten years.

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That didn't mean anything. So what if she hadn't been interested in a man in ten years and the one popping her cork had something else going on behind the scenes? Lu knew she could fall into bed with him and not have a problem jumping out when the time came. Just to prove it, she grabbed her purse and strode to the door. Less than five minutes later, she located Chase at his office, of course. The man never went anywhere. She pushed the door open and breezed in, ready to raise hell. Chase stood in the doorway to his office, a dark expression on his face. As she stomped over to him, he watched her with a hint of trepidation passing over his face. "What are you doing here, Lu? What do you want?" "You want to know? You really want to know?" He pursed his lips in thought, raising her temper. Like he needed to think about it. She knew he did it on purpose to irritate her but she couldn't keep the action from accomplishing its goal. "Yeah." He nodded. "I think I do." Arousal and aggravation had her grabbing him by the shirt front and pulling him to her. "You are such a pain in the ass, Chase. This doesn't mean a thing. It's just for pleasure." Before he could answer, she took his mouth in a rough, wet kiss, and, for once, stopped running.

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Six Chase couldn't think. He couldn't even act on the fact that Lu had attacked him and was now at that very moment practically eating him alive. Every drop of blood had headed south, making any thought damn near impossible. Somewhere in the back of his brain there was some kind of warning, something that told him he should ignore the way his pulse pounded and his blood boiled. But, when he didn't respond, she pulled away, closing her teeth over his bottom lip with a playful bite. The scrape of teeth, the swipe of tongue, had his cock jumping to complete attention. She kept her mouth close to his, her sweet breath heating his skin. "Come on, Chase. Give a girl a little something." And Lord help him, he couldn't resist. He should, it was part of the plan to just get close enough to get her to Hera, hand her over, but damn if he would be bothered with that for now. He wanted her, needed her with such a force it made him dizzy. With a groan of surrender, he bent his head as he slipped his hands around her waist. He pulled her against him, grinding his cock against the softness of her sex. Lu rubbed against him as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Just like that afternoon, the heady taste of her wound through him. Never in his life had a woman tasted like heaven to him. Sweet, hot passion with a dose of something so elusive he almost missed it. But, it burst through him at that moment she needed as much as he needed her. He picked her up and stepped into his office, slamming the door with the bottom of his foot. Ignoring the way the wall shook when the door closed, Chase made it to his desk in two steps and set her on the edge of it. He broke off from the kiss, happy to hear her moan of dissatisfaction when he did. Reaching around her, he pushed everything off his desk. The crash didn't faze him. Not when he had Lu to capture his attention. She grabbed the front of his shirt and attacked his mouth again. Holy Zeus, the woman had a mouth on her. Full, luscious and it fit against his perfectly. Her tongue slipped again, dancing with his as he

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moved his hands to her breasts. Chase sighed as his cupped one breast, thumbing her nipple, which pebbled almost immediately. Her firm, high breasts were the perfect fit for his hands—in his mouth. The thought of just how they would taste sent another wave of lust mingled with something he didn't want to define blazing through him. He'd not gotten to see them earlier and wanted to end that loss immediately. Slipping his fingers beneath the shirt, he grabbed hold of the bottom edge. He moved away long enough to jerk the fabric up and over her head with little to no finesse. Throwing it behind him, he forgot completely about it when he saw her breasts. Just as he expected, they were perfect. Full, firm, bottom heavy. The tight nipples were the color of raspberries. He had to have a taste. Bending his head, he circled the tip of the nipple with his tongue, then with a groan took it fully into his mouth. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter. It was cherry pie with whip cream and ice cream, a full orgy of sweet heaven. He moved from one breast to the other, licking, sucking, tasting it while he slipped his fingers over her other nipple. With a pinch, he had her moaning his name and moving more restlessly against him. Before he was satisfied—like that was ever going to happen—she was pushing him away. He grunted his displeasure and looked at her. Her eyes were halfclosed, her curly hair more mussed than usual, and her skin flushed with desire. "Don't even thinking of playing games here, Lu. I don't think it's possible to stop, I'll go out of my mind." Offering him a sultry smile, she leaned forward and grabbed the edges of his shirt. Then in one jerk, she pulled the edges apart, buttons flying in all directions. She laughed, the sound so carefree, so joyous it snuck into his heart. Another dimension, completely unexpected and surprising, slipped beneath the lust and simmered. Before he could figure out how to hand it, her hands were on his chest, moving over his nipples, and he forgot everything else except how wonderful it felt to have her hands on him. He grabbed her waist and drew her closer. Those talented hands of hers moved down his torso, unbuttoned then unzipped his jeans, and slipped inside. She kept eye contact as she slid her fingers over the head of his shaft. The touch, so delicate, almost made him come. He sucked in a breath and a drop of precum escaped. She pressed her thumb to the

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hole of his cock, then pulled her hand free. Keeping her gaze steady, she lifted her thumb to her mouth. He noticed the wet drop of cum the moment before she flicked her tongue over it. "Hmm, that's a good taste you got there, Chase." His knees almost gave way at the sight of her tongue first licking her thumb, then watching as she slipped it into her mouth and sucked. Any kind of brain function had been lost from the moment she showed up, but it was impossible to even come up with a word. So, when she pushed at him, he allowed it. Hell, at the moment she could request he dress up in a thong, thigh highs, and fuck me heels and would probably do it. The sensual haze that clouded his judgment was completely new to him. He'd never truly lost control. But, he thought as she jumped from the desk and then dropped to her knees, he'd never felt so free. Before he could wrap his mind around that, she pulled his cock free of his jeans. He watched as she grabbed it by the base, licking her lips as she gave it one long, slow stroke. As another pearl of precum escaped, she smiled and looked up at him as she flicked her tongue over it. Then, closing her eyes, she took the tip into her mouth and hummed. The vibrations of it coursed through him, all the way to the tips of his toes, which he curled inside of his boots. But, before he recovered, she was taking more of him in, her mouth working over his flesh. Each time she took him in, he felt the brush of her silky hair against his bare skin. He slipped his hands through her curls, molding his hands to her head so he could guide her rhythm. Soon, she was moving faster and he could feel himself losing complete control. Knowing he wanted to keep it going, wanting to give her pleasure before his, he pulled at her from him. Lifting her again, he moved over to the chair, dropping her, then going to his knees in front of her. He pushed her skirt higher until her could see the golden brown curls at the apex of her thighs. They glistened with her desire. Taking a deep breath, he growled when he smelled her arousal. His mouth watered as he dipped his head closer, sliding his tongue along her thigh, up to her sex. He licked her slit once, twice, then slipped inside. Holy Mother. Just like every other aspect of her, the taste of her pussy aroused him. Hot, sweet, with a touch of zest. Chase moved his tongue to her clit as he slipped one finger into her pussy. With each thrust of his finger, he touched her clit. Soon her hands were threaded through his hair, her legs up and over the arms of the chair, as she kept in time with him.

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Soon, he could feel her muscles tightening, her passage dampening. In the next instant she was convulsing as she shouted his name. Another rush of liquid flashed forward and he gratefully lapped it up. Before she'd completely recovered, he pulled her out of the chair then turned her to face the desk. Slipping off her skirt, Chase then slid his hands up and over her ass. He gave it a smack and she laughed. He smiled and rubbed his hand over the reddened flesh. Stepping closer, he rubbed his cock along the cleft of her buttocks. She moaned, wiggling her hips in appreciation. He'd love to tease her more, because he knew that she was a woman who liked that, but Chase wasn't sure he could handle any more. He spread one hand on her hip, his fingers caressing her skin. With his other hand, he took his cock by the base and guided it into her pussy in one, hard thrust. As she lifted herself to her elbows on his desk, he stayed her with a hand to the back and started thrusting. With each plunge into her heated, wet sex, his muscles tightened. At first, his movements were measured, slowly pulling out, pushing back in to the hilt. Each thrust, her muscles clasped tight around his shaft, drawing him closer to the edge. But, soon, as her moans grew, his movements became faster, more frenzied. His balls drew tight, his cock throbbed. Reaching around her, he slipped his finger over her clit. Her juices drenched his hand as he touched her once, twice. In that next moment, she came again, her body shivering with her orgasm, her muscles pulling him deeper and milking his orgasm forward. As he continued pumping into her, he exploded, his body bowing with the force of the action. Moments later, he stumbled back into his chair, pulling her onto his lap. Lu settled her head against his chest, her hair tickled his chin. She leaned back, looked up, and smiled. Just a simple smile filled with sated sensuality and womanly knowing, and he felt his heart stumble, then trip and fall into the pit of his stomach. In the centuries he'd been alive he'd never seen a woman so beautiful, and never before had he fucked one beyond belief. For the first time in his long life, Chase Franklin had fallen in love with a woman who not only would feel betrayed when she realized what was going on with Hera, but also could jeopardize his chance of revenge against her father. Fuck. Double fuck. Her smile faded. "Is there something wrong?" He shook his head. "No. Nothing at all."

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When her brow furrowed in concern, he reached up and smoothed it away with his fingers. "Lu, I said nothing was wrong." She crossed her arms and opened her mouth to respond. To stop her, he lifted his hand against her mouth. "I mean it. Don't worry about it. Nothing's wrong that can't be fixed." And in one blast of reality, Chase discovered it was true. The revenge, his deal with Hera didn't matter in the face of what he felt for Lu. Nothing was as important as spending eternity with her. He smiled down at her, love warming his heart. "Listen, let's get out of here before someone finds us." She laughed, but there was still a shadow of worry in her gaze. Chase decided that he'd just spend the next hundred years proving it to her. They dressed quickly, both of them laughing at the state of his shirt. All the while, neither of them noticed the one who watched them so closely, her smile cold and predatory.

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Seven By the time they made it to Lu's little house, all her earlier worries were gone. They'd barely made it into her house. Before she had him back against the door, her mouth moving over him. This time, he allowed her to suck him until he came. The taste of him still made her shiver as they reclined in her four poster bed. Now that she'd been satisfied with that, she started thinking about the look on his face. She knew there had been something there in his expression, something that told her there was something more to it than just sex—and not just the good things, like love. Even as the warmth of newfound love filled her chest, she knew there was every chance she was going to risk being hurt. But, dammit, for some reason she didn't care. She should but she didn't. She now realized that all these months, all these mistakes, fights, and the wreck, was just her way of trying to avoid Chase. When it was so apparent the reason she'd ended up here was to find him. "Whatcha thinking about, Lu?" His voice vibrated in the ear she had against his chest and she smiled. "Nothing much. Other than how fortuitous it was that I chose this place to come and open my bookstore." When he didn't answer, she lifted her head to see what his reaction was. She hadn't expected a frown. "How did you choose it?" She shrugged, her nerves now jumping at his reaction. "I just saw it on map." "Hmmm." To push away the panic rapidly rising in her chest, the worry that something more dire was happening behind those gorgeous eyes, she slipped her leg over his stomach and straddled him. As before, his cock twitched to attention. "Of course, it was all a plan to trap you. I wanted to get you under my command, so I used all my sexual powers to entice you. Now, I plan to take over the world."

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She laughed, but it died when she saw the stricken look on his face. "Chase, you know I'm kidding." "Yeah." His hands slipped to her hips as if to lift her away from him, and she felt her heart slip. "Listen, Lu, we need to talk." Oh, she didn't want to go through this. She didn't want to be this woman again. Men found her great fun in bed, but mortals tended to run the other direction if they discovered who she was. Hell, even if they didn't find out, they were usually running the other direction. Lu blinked, the backs of her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall—at least, until he left and she could be alone. She moved, trying to get away from him, but instead of letting her go he held onto her, his fingers digging into her flesh as she started to struggle. Embarrassed, she couldn't look at him but whispered, "Please, let me go." There was a beat of silence. "No. I don't think so." She looked at him, his expression serious, his gaze thoughtful. Oh, he was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It pained her to think he would never be hers. "What do you want?" Even she heard the pain in the question as a couple tears escaped despite her best efforts. He slipped his hands up her torso, flicking his thumbs over her nipples before continuing on up to cup her face. Even if she wanted to ignore him, her body couldn't. She tried to pull away, but he held tight, sliding his fingers over her cheeks to brush away the tears. "I just want you, Luck." The moment he said her full name, the panic gathering deep within her stomach evolved into full-blown hysteria. She knew he had another agenda, another reason for wanting her, watching her. The use of her name had her mind whirling to the possibilities of what he was there for. What did he want her for? He sighed and sat up, still holding her face in his hands. "I want you. I don't care about anything but you." She wanted to deny it. Trust outside the circle of her sisters wasn't easy. She tried shaking her head, but Chase held it still, his gaze holding hers. She opened her mouth, wanting to refute every implication of his feelings. He'd lied to her, or at the very least, he wasn't truthful. That much she knew. She wanted to scream at him and tell him there was no way he could care for her. He had no soul, no heart, he was nothing. But before she could respond, he pulled her mouth down to his. Instead of the

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rough, possessive kiss she expected, this was merely the brushing of his lips against hers. Without closing his eyes, he continued the teasing touch and slid his fingers through her hair. Pulling back just an inch or two he said, "I don't understand it anymore than you do. After all these years…to find someone I want, someone I need, and for you to be who you are. I can't explain it. Maybe I don't want to. All I know is that without you here with me, I'll never be happy again. And we both have a long time to be miserable if we decide to ignore this." Even as her heart did a little booty dance, she refused to accept. She didn't need the pain of being used in some silly game from Mount O. So she ignored the fact her blood was warming, her nipples tightening. "No." Instead of anger or even irritation, Chase smiled, one corner of his mouth kicking up. "Really, Lu, you should know me by now. That just sounds like a challenge to me. A challenge to prove you're wrong." Faster than she had ever seen him move, he took her mouth in the kiss she'd expected before. His lips pressed roughly against hers, his tongue slipping inside. As she tried to order her body to ignore the sensual haze he seemed to create, it ignored her. Tension gathered as heat danced along her nerve endings and she grew damp. She wanted to tell him to go to Hell. That she didn't need to feels his mouth on hers, his body throbbing beneath hers, and she definitely didn't want to feel his heart beating against her chest. But she couldn't. Because, deep in her heart, in her soul, she knew she wanted all that and more. Chase moved from her mouth, kissing her face, her jaw, her neck. The scrape of his teeth against the tender flesh just below the jaw caused the heat coursing through her to gather in her tummy. He eased his hands to her hips once more lifting her. She reached down to position his cock and slowly sank down. As she began to move, he took a nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the tip. Soon, she was unable to hold back. The tension that had gathered in her stomach moved down to her pussy. As she increased her rhythm, he slipped one hand behind her back to brace her, then slipped the other to her clit. Two strokes and the pressure broke free as she screamed his name. As she rode the wave of her orgasm, her moved her against him, pumping into her with such force that she went flying over the edge again, this time bringing him with her as he spent himself inside of her.

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He held her to him as he collapsed on the bed. She rested her head on his chest. The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing, the scent of spent passion hung heavily in the air. "And if you doubt my feelings, woman, that should have proven how I do." A little of the jubilant feeling eased at his comments. "Just like a man to think that sex is the answer to everything." He gave her rear a playful swat and then rubbed. "I didn't say that." "You said that proved it. It proved you have a hard-on for me." The sigh he released ruffled her hair. "I have never met such a stubborn hard headed woman before. No wonder you were expelled." She raised her head quickly, slapping his chin with the top of her head, then rose to her elbows on his chest. "Damn, Lu. First you smack me with that hard head and now you are trying to stab me with those pointy elbows." She ignored the way he looked, all mussed and sleepy, and completely delicious. "I don't care. Just what do you know?" Again, he sighed and this time she heard the aggravation behind it. "I know because I'm a former resident also. But that is not what I wanted to discuss." "Oh, yeah, right. You want to discuss how good sex is? That is why you aren't up to something devious." He rolled his eyes, grabbed her with both hands by the jaw line, and pulled her forward. Without taking his gaze from hers, he said, "I love you." Before she could respond, a chill filled the room and Lu sense a bit of evil standing behind them. Chase cussed as she looked over her shoulder and saw Hera standing at the foot of the bed. "Oh, how sweet, Chase. Do you plan on telling her exactly why you got her into bed in the first place and lied to her?"

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Eight Chase couldn't believe his luck. This was proof positive that Lu wasn't the good little luck charm most gods thought she was. Not once had there been a good thing that came of their time together. Other than falling in love. He'd worry about that later, he decided as he watched Hera walk around to the edge of the bed. First bit of business was to get rid of the bitch who had started most of his problems. "What the hell do you want, Hera?" he asked as Lu scrambled off his lap to sit beside him on the bed. "Want?" Hera laughed, the sound of it chilling him. "What I now want is not of any importance. Not now that you have done exactly what I asked." Again, the bitch was talking in circles. They said Aphrodite liked to mess with men, but Hera was worse in Chase's opinion. The woman liked to mess with everyone, men in particular, then leave them bleeding. When he didn't respond, Hera turned her attention to Lu. He wanted to pull her behind him, block Hera's hatred with his body. He didn't know Lu would probably give him a good right hook, but beyond that, he worried just what Hera had to say to them. He should have told Lu hours earlier why he'd decided to finally seek her out, let her know that nothing matter more than she did, but he'd been a coward. Buying time is what he'd been doing. "Did your lover tell you what he was doing for me?" Lu swallowed, cut a look toward him, then back to Hera before shaking her head. The smile Hera gave her was filled with hatred and ice. "He was trying to get you to come to my side. That's what this was all about. He wants revenge on his sire, Poseidon, for raping his mother, and on Zeus for fulfilling Chase's grandfather's request to make him completely immortal. So, he was going to convince you, or force you, to somehow help me."

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Lu looked at him, the sadness in her gaze tore at his heart. "You told her you'd help her?" Lu's voice was just above a whisper. Her face had gone dangerously pale. He wanted to explain it all away, tell her that before he knew her, before he fell in love, it had been easy to make the decision. Agreeing to Hera's demand had been easy, but now, he didn't give a damn about revenge. When the thought popped into his head, he tried to deny it, but it wouldn't budge from there. After hundreds of years of biding his time, waiting for the moment to get back at the men he blamed for ruining his simple life, he didn't give a fuck anymore. Chase waited for anger to come, for the deep seated resentment to clog his throat. But instead, he felt lighter than he had for centuries. He grabbed her hand, brought her fingers to his mouth, and kissed them. "Yes. I did." Those damn tears returned and she tried to pull her hand away but he held to it tightly. "No. You will listen, Dammit. All my immortal life I have wanted to get back at those two bastards. I didn't know you all that well, and Hera shows up and offers it up on a silver platter. I should have suspected she was up to something, but I didn't care. So, I thought I would get to know you better." Hera snorted. "Looks like you got exactly what you wanted. Only, you didn't. True shame, that." Both he and Lu looked at the goddess. The beauty was there— motherly, sensual, but as always the cold bitch beneath shone through. "What do you mean?" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned forward. "Just what I said. I've always hated you. Zeus took more interest in you than his own children. You, a bastard partial born from a rape by Poseidon. A mortal. I wanted you to pay for that." Her agitation was shown not only in her words and demeanor, but also from the flapping of the shades and the books dropping from the shelves. "So, I watched and I saw the way you looked at Lu. You wanted her, even before everything here happened, you wanted her. All I did was trip you so you leaned that way. So now, you have no revenge and you have no woman. So sad." "Really?" Lu asked. Hera's attention snapped to Lu as did Chase's. The smile he saw on her face confused him.

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"There is no way you would trust him now. All the Fates are especially distrustful of other gods. How are you going to justify staying with him after this?" Lu's smile bloomed into a grin that gave him more hope than he deserved. "He gave up revenge for me." Hera stared at Lu with eyes blazing in anger and hatred. "What?" "It's that simple. See, all my long life, I've never had anyone give up something so important just for me, but Chase just did." Lu looked at him now, raising her hand to caress his face. The touch would have made his knees go weak if he had been standing. "He didn't. He's just saying he would now that he has been found out." Keeping her hand on Chase's face, Lu looked at Hera. "No. If he didn't care, he would have never slept with me. And on top of that, he could turn me over to you now if he really wanted to, but he has no plans of that." The laugh that filled the room was frightening. "Really, my dear? And just how do you know that." "Well, because he had no plans to get me into bed. Put aside the idea that he's a god and look at his life. The man has sat in this same town for how many years now? He doesn't do anything without a plan. I bet he had this terrific plan to lure me, and when I was close enough, he would bring you in. But it didn't work." "Really?" The nasty sarcasm in Hera's voice sent a warning to Chase. Hera really didn't like it when her plans went astray. "Uh, Lu…" he said, but his thoughts drained when she looked at him. Her gaze was warm and her eyes filled with love. For the second time that night, his heart took a tumble. "Yeah. Because he fell in love with me, too." The aggravated screech broke their attention from each other and they looked to find Hera seething. All beauty was now gone, dissolved into a puddle as the true hatred came through. "I will not stand for this." She stepped forward, but before she could even think of doing anything, Hermes appeared. "It's a good thing I'm not overly humble," Lu said beside him, a touch of humor in her voice. When he looked at her, it hit him that both of them were nude, but he was covered modestly. Lu was bare from the waist up. He grabbed the sheet and she batted his hand way as she laughed.

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"Don't get like that with me. Besides, it doesn't matter with this crowd." "Zeus would like to speak with you, Hera," said Hermes, his serious tone didn't bode well for Hera. "I'm not in the mood, Hermes." Hera's imperious tones did nothing to sway Hermes. "Zeus said now, or he would tend to this himself." Hera's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing on the messenger. "Really?" With obvious delight, Hermes shook his head. "Really." "Dammit, he can't —" "Can and will, Hera. He will make certain you regret it if he has to come here." This was said with enough menace, she apparently heeded his words. With a sigh, she disappeared. Hermes offered them both a smile, an odd look for a man who usually bore a frown. With a wave of his hand, he said, "Carry on." Then he vanished. All of a sudden, the room seemed too quiet after the interruption. Chase studied Lu, trying to decipher her thoughts. "You know, I should kick your ass for not telling me that Hera had contacted you." There was no real anger in her voice and perhaps, a bit of humor. "Well, I didn't know how to." She looked at him, then cocked her head to one side. "When were you planning to tell me?" He grimaced and she laughed. "Oh sure, it's a load of laughs." Lu shot forward, wrapping her arms around him. "You're such a stick in the mud. You were afraid to tell me. Weren't you?" She laughed out loud, the sound warming the room and his soul. "You were afraid I wouldn't stay." She poked him in the ribs. Deciding he had enough of that, he twisted, pressing her against the bed and then sliding on top of her. "What do you think you're doing?" Her voice was filled with mock outrage causing him to smile. "I'm making sure we have an agreement. You, me, eternity." She leaned up and planted a loud noisy kiss on his mouth. "Agreed." As she squirmed to get out from beneath him, his cock twitched and her eyes narrowed.

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"Can't help it, Lu. When you're around, I can't seem to stop that reaction." "I don't have time. I have a lot of work to catch up. The world has been a bit…unlucky for lack of a better word." "Tell you what. They can wait another hour or two while I make sure you understand the term, getting lucky." She slid her hands up his arms then left them to rest on his shoulders and laughed. The sound of it turned to a moan when he leaned closer and tugged her earlobe with his teeth. Moments later, as he slipped into her body, he thought that for once in his long life Luck had smiled upon him, and he was going to do everything to keep her happy.

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About the Author Born to an Air Force family at an Army hospital Melissa has always been a little bit screwy. She was further warped by her years of watching Monty Python and her strange family. Her love of romance novels developed after accidentally picking up a Linda Howard book. After becoming hooked, she read close to 300 novels in one year, deciding that romance was her true calling instead of the literary short stories and suspenses she had been writing. After many attempts, she realized that romantic comedy, or at least romance with a comedic edge was where she was destined to be. Influences in her writing come from Nora Roberts, Jenny Crusie, Susan Andersen, Amanda Quick, Jayne Anne Krentz, Julia Quinn, Christina Dodd, and Lori Foster. Since her first release in 2004, Melissa has had close to 20 short stories, novellas and novels released with six different publishers in a variety of genres and time periods. Those releases included, The Hired Hand, a 2005 Eppie Finalist for Contemporary Romance and Tempting Prudence, a 2005 CAPA finalist for short erotic romance. Her contemporary, A Little Harmless Sex became an International Best Seller in June of 2005 when it placed 12th on the list. Since she was a military brat, she vowed never to marry military. Alas, fate always has her way with mortals. Her husband is an Air Force major, and together they have their own military brats, two girls, and an adopted dog daughter and they live wherever the military sticks them. Which she is sure, will always involve heat and bugs only seen on the Animal Discovery Channel. In her spare time, she reads, complains about bugs, travels, cooks, reads some more, watches her DVD collections of Arrested Development and Seinfeld, and tries to convince her family that she truly is a delicate genius. She has yet to achieve her last goal. She has always believed that romance and humor go hand in hand. Love can conquer all and as Mark Twain said, "Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand." Combining the two, she hopes she gives her readers a

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thrilling love story, filled with chuckles along the way, and a happily ever after finish. She can be reached at her website, www.melissaschroeder.net, and you can keep up with her activities at her yahoo groups: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/melissaschroederchat http://groups.yahoo.com/group/melissaschroedernews or become a friend at http://www.myspace.com/melissaschroeder

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If you enjoyed this title, may we recommend…? Black Sail, by Brenna Lyons ISBN 1-59426-624-7, $3, available in eBook format When a strange man washes up on the shores of her beloved Naxos, Ariadne longs to be his. Dionysis has no clue who Ari is or how she came to Naxos, but he won't rest until he knows - and until she is his. Can a former princess with no faith in gods learn to love again?

Anything But Anderson's by Tysche Dwai ISBN 1-59426-55 7-7, $2, available in eBook format Introducing Fairy Tales with an Adult Attitude! These retellings of The Gilded Girdle and Three Wishes will satisfy adult tastes in naughty stories.

Fairy Tail by Courtney Bee ISBN 1-59426-580-1, $2, available in eBook format You'll never be able to look at Tinkerbell the same way again! In a fantasy world of dragons and ogres, hapless peasant Adam saves the life of a feisty fairy queen--who attempted to rob him! Now the tables have turned and forest law decrees that Adam shall be granted one wish. Taunted by the winged spitfire's luscious curves and fiery tongue, he knows exactly what he's going to wish for...

Now available at www.Phaze.com!

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The hottest romance, the most memorable heroines, the most gorgeous heroes… Welcome to the next PHAZE in erotic romance! Join us online for author chats, writing workshops, and big prize contests

www.phaze.com groups.yahoo.com/groups/PhazeChatters eBooks available at Fictionwise.com, CyberRead.com, and AllRomanceeBooks.com print titles available at Amazon.com, BN.com, BooksAMillion.com and on the shelves of Borders bookstores!

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