by VS Winters
Heir of Light
A Curse of Gods
VS Winters
Edited by
Real Indie Author
Copyright © 2020 by VS Winters
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
A note
This book was previously published under the title, Bound to The Titan. It has been newly edited and updated for your reading pleasure!
Blurb
I thought the war of the Gods had ended. Turns out I was wrong…
Like the rest of humanity, I’m just trying to make it from one day to the next. And I’ve been doing a pretty good job, until he shows up. Big, handsome, leather clad, and crouched in the back of my landscaping van with an arrogant smirk on his face. He’s bruised and bleeding, but what’s even more shocking is that I swear he’s one of them.
The Titans.
He’s not here by coincidence, either.
He wants something—and that something is me.
When three red-eyed Furies ambush me in my bedroom, he returns to save me the only way he knows how.
He says there’s a power within me.
A power he needs.
A power others want.
And if I want to live beyond tomorrow, he’s the only one who can help me…
But can I trust a fallen Titan who would kill me just as soon as look at me?
There’s only one way to find out.
Heir of Light is Book One in the ‘A Curse of Gods’ Series, a brand new Urban Fantasy Romance filled with magic, action and plenty of butterfly-inducing moments!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
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Chapter One
I took off my gloves and wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, feeling the heat radiating down on me.
I wasn't going to complain, no matter how hot it got. The world had finally reached a peaceful enough place where I could walk outside and not be threatened by death via some primordial creature of Olympus. Yes, that's right, I said Olympus. It had been just three weeks since the war ended in a clash of enormous gods, and just as enormous, yet a little bit less scary, Titans.
We mortals, living our lives on the ever annoying, far too crowded land beneath the golden clouds of Olympus, often times put far too much stake in happily-ever-afters. I was guilty of this, as well. No matter what kind of low-tolerance sarcasm plagued my soul, I always thought that if we ended up in a war, even with wild immortal jerk-offs, the humans would win in the end. I guess in one way you could say that the humans did win. We were still here. But as far as the outcome of the whole thing, I still didn't fully understand whether the good guys won or not.
Hell, I didn't even really know who the good guys were.
Things had been brewing for quite a while, storms battering the coasts, the wrath of Zeus showering over us everywhere we turned, and frequent escapes from the underworld by some long-clawed, not too bright, tortured soul. We took it in stride, as humans always did. And by in stride I mean mass panic, gatherings of religious zealots, sacrifices, loitering, and general mayhem. You know, the normal for mortals who thought they were the most important creatures in all of the universe.
But then it happened.
Our much-too-large egotistical bubble was blasted wide open. The wrathful but loving gods that we spent our entire existence praying to, kneeling before, crying to, and fighting wars over showed us exactly how important we truly weren't to them. The main twelve, the larger-than-life council that sat in a place too glorious for human eyes, choosing paths too vast for human understanding, requiring immense amounts of praise and worship, came down to Earth and pretty much stared us all down like we were petulant children.
Hephaistos, the smallest of them, wiry in structure, with roving fearful eyes, holding a flaming ball in one hand and a metal urn in the other, came down first. Next to him stood Hermes, the wings on his sandals fluttering wildly. Then came Dionysus, my personal favorite, holding a jug of wine with that signature look of merriment on his face. Of course, that meant Aphrodite was next, blinding the world with her beauty, standing next to Demeter, one of the oldest gods in the history of our faith. Artemis, Ares, and Poseidon slammed mightily into the ground, creating large divots which I was pretty sure had instantly become tourist attractions.
Apollo, holding his bow, stood mightily next to Athena, their armor and shields reflecting the sunlight, casting shadows over the land beneath them. But then came the big two, the God and Goddess that everyone revered beyond any of the others. The mother and father of mortals, Hera, Queen of the Ancient Greeks, and Zeus, King of all the Olympian gods and the supreme deity. He stood taller than the rest, his shoulders broad and strong, his beard long and glistening, his eyes bluer than any picture could've ever imagined them as.
I'll be honest, at that point none of us knew what the hell was going on. We didn't know whether to run or bow. Ultimately, there was a mixture of both and I can only imagine what we looked like from their perspective. Small, screaming ants scurrying along the ground, doing everything we could not to be squashed. But when the dust settled, and everyone had gone calm and silent, there was a hope that began to blossom in all of our chests. They had come to fix us, to fix the detriment of the world that had been festering violently around us. Surely, they were there to give the love that we always said was in their nature.
Boy, had we gotten things way wrong.
When I say wrong, I mean the kind of wrong that you wish was just a dream, or nightmare in this case. Wars raging, enormous beings stomping through the world fighting viciously from one corner of the planet to the other. The humans couldn't even begin to think about facing the gods, but luckily the Titans stepped in, fighting our battle for us. It was rough, and there were times that I feared that we were just doomed. I expected any day to wake to the sound of my soul being leached into the underworld. But thankfully, after far too long of living on a war-torn planet, it ended. Nobody knew if it was because the gods were tired of it, their attention drawn to something else, or because the Titans were so furious that they actually managed to beat the gods. Personally, I didn't care what the reason was. I was just glad that I could go back out in my yard and tend to my plants.
"Kora," a voice echoed out, pulling me from my thoughts.
I glanced across the street as I held my pruning shears close to the rosebush. Oh, great, my nosy neighbor, Helen, one of the ones I wished had gotten caught up in the plagues of locusts or churning tides, but I could never be that lucky. I forced a smile on my face and waved. "Morning, I love those pants!"
I hated her pants. Some sort of flowered material, the print changing as she walked. It was the side effect of the magic that somehow was left behind when all the gods retreated back to Olympus. It had soaked everything, creating a sparkling lavender
hue in the sky, and bringing things to life that probably never should've been in the first place.
"Do you like them?" she asked, putting her hand to her cheek. "I thought I would be a little fashion forward and try out the new magic fabric that everybody was talking about."
I gave her a thumbs-up, just as the branch of the rosebush smacked hard against my hand. The thorns pricked me and I yanked my shears back, narrowing my eyes at the bush. A prime example of exactly what I meant by magic wreaking havoc on things that shouldn't have personalities. I gritted my teeth. "Do that again and I'll get the chainsaw."
The branches shivered at me and I didn't know if they were retreating in fear, or mocking me. What I did know was that I was going to need longer shears. My hands looked like I had spent time in an iron maiden, or strapped to one of those iron chairs with the spikes. I groaned as I pulled myself up from the ground and shuffled along, stepping over a patch of random buttercups that had grown along the edge of the driveway. They weren't just normal buttercups. They were singing buttercups.
The entire world had been turned into some sort of gnarly magical musical, and I was doing my best not to poke out my own eardrums. Walking to the back of my landscaping van, thankful that it was still in one piece after the war, I winced as I shoved my hand in my pocket, grabbing the keys out. I had just gotten back to work a few weeks before, but that day, I had scheduled some off time. Besides, it wasn't like I had people knocking down the door to make their yards beautiful again. There was an enormous portion of the population that hadn't even come back to their homes yet, if they were even still alive. Besides, it was probably a good thing, considering I had no idea how to landscape singing plants with the attitude of a sixteen-year-old girl.
I pulled open the door of the van, and as my eyes drifted up into the back, I gasped and stumbled backward, lifting up my pruning shears. My mouth twisted and I squinted into the shadows. Sitting in the center of the van was a man, shirtless, wearing what looked to be blood-splattered armor, a very Olympus-like helmet, a sword at his side, and wild, long silvery hair cascading over his shoulders. Had I found someone like that in the back of my van a few years before, I would've assumed that the local LARPing community had gotten a little crazy with the wine coolers, but this guy definitely did not scream nerd to me.
He moved forward and I brought my shears back up, waving them in the air. "Stop. Who are you? How the hell did you get in the back of my van?"
He acted like he wasn't even listening to me and continued to move forward.
I mustered my bravery and stupidity, and shifted forward attempting to… Well, I'm not exactly sure what I was attempting to do. Maybe stab him with the end of my not-so-sharp pruning shears?
By the looks of the bandage tied tightly around his very muscular torso—not that I was gawking and drooling over it at all—he was injured. That, however, did not keep him from moving preternaturally fast, blocking my blow and knocking the pruning shears about fifteen feet in the other direction. The movements were so quick that I could barely keep my eyes from rolling back, but I definitely felt his hand twist around my waist as he whipped me through the air.
As we swirled around, I blinked through the blur and looked up at him, our faces incredibly close. His chin was chiseled, his eyes a deep seafoam green, gleaming at me as if he were—
No, hiding in the back of my van? It couldn't be.
Naturally—wink wink—my hand clung to his chest, feeling a lack of normal gravity with his movements. When I reached his shoulder, my eyes shifted down to his skin, finding a small scar in the shape of a sword. It was a brand, a brand I knew all too well at that point. As we came to a stop, my eyes shifted back to his and my feet stumbled slightly beneath me. My fingers dug into his warm, spiced skin as my knees wobbled back and forth. I whispered in confusion as I stared at him. "The last Titan…"
"What did you say?" he bellowed, pushing me slightly back.
I shook my head, not wanting to repeat myself, as I couldn't exactly remember which Titan he was. Either my memory was correct and I couldn't place him in any of the battles, or I was a really ungrateful mortal. I really didn't want to figure out which one it was. His eyes shifted over me, and I hesitated, feeling my arms naturally want to come up and cover myself, but at the same time, taking in the heat that his gaze permeated.
He leaned back against the van and I shook the haze away. Somehow, within our spinning dance, we had landed right where we started, the Titan sitting on the ledge of the van. It took a good couple of minutes before everything stopped spinning, and my wildly reverberating libido calmed the hell down. When it did, I looked around, slightly confused. Okay, very confused. "That was weird. I guess I should ask you again, what are you doing in the back of my van?"
He looked angrily toward me. My eyes shifted from side to side and I settled my face into a mimicking grimace. He stuck out his large rough hand, but didn't say a word. I wasn't sure whether I needed to shake it, or give him a low five. "Are we having a breakdown of communication here? Do your kind speak a different language?"
He didn't even flinch at my question. "Enough games." His voice echoed all around me as if I were in a cavern. He thrust out his other hand and the pruning shears he had thrown rocketed back toward him. "Give me the orb. The light must be returned, and I will return your strange battle weapon. Surely mortals covet their weapons just as gods do."
I blinked at him and crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head to the side. I didn't know what that Titan had smoked before he ended up in the back of my van, but I wasn't about to take orders from anyone. "I don't care what you do with those. In fact, you can shove those shears right up your own ass because I don't have whatever orb of light you're speaking of. Nor do I know what you're talking about."
He looked down at himself and over at the shears, throwing them at the ground. "You threatened me. It's an unorthodox type of threat, but a threat nonetheless."
Any fear I felt at the beginning had quickly diminished. I felt as if I was talking to a really hot Tarzan who had no idea what pruning shears looked like. Growing tired of the constant dialogue, I reached forward and grabbed his arm. "Get out of the van."
He stumbled, wincing as he grabbed his side. I could see blood pooling to the surface of his bandages.
Immediately, I felt bad. I was brazen, but I wasn't an asshole. "That looks really bad. Why don't you let me take you to the hospital? You probably need stitches, or maybe a new kidney."
My face was scrunched in pain just watching him. I slowly reached toward him.
His head whipped up and his eyes narrowed at me. "I don't need mortal help. Think long and hard about the orb, because I'll be back."
I put my finger up and opened my mouth, fully ready to sarcastically point out the fact that he stole that line, but before I could, he vanished into thin air. With puffed cheeks, I looked to the right and left of the van to make sure he hadn't tried to pull some quick vanishing reappearing act on me, but his hot, mysterious ass was gone. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, really tired of the weirdness that was going on. Everything had gone from normal to twisted fantasy fiction in the flash of a lightning bolt.
I fetched the shears and tossed them in the back of the van, figuring that was my cue to be done for the day. I looked down at the small droplets of blood on the bottom of the van and for a second, I felt remorse. But then I remembered that there had been a Titan hiding in the back of my van who had been very confused about what it meant to shove shears up his ass. I didn't need that kind of stress in my life.
I shut the door and turned to walk into the house, muttering under my breath. "Good riddance."
Chapter Two
Pulling on my favorite pajama shorts, I looked over my shoulder and narrowed my eyes.
There was definitely more booty hanging out than a few months before. It was amazing what war and the constant fear of imminent death could do to a waistline. Who was I kidding? The moment I had the opportunity to get my
hands on my oven and some ingredients, I was elbow deep in fried food and brownie mix. Survival of the fittest was over for me, right down the hatch with a bag of mini marshmallows.
I opened up my drawer and thumbed through the T-shirts, smiling maliciously at the cartoon-printed tee I’d bought off of a street vendor just a few days before. It was Zeus bent over, a mighty Titan shoving a lightning bolt where the sun didn't shine.
Not everyone had the same view on the gods I did, which baffled me. Even after they had come down and decided to lay waste to the human race because we were no longer fun to play with, people still prayed to them, still worshipped them, and still made excuses for them. Personally, I just thought the shirt was funny.
My muscles ached as I ran a brush through my hair, rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, and dragged my body toward the bed. I had worked outside on my own landscaping for hours, pulling remnants of the war from my flower beds, making a pile of all the debris that landed here and there throughout the neighborhood, and then there was the whole Titan living in the back of my landscaping van thing. Suffice it to say, I was pretty much ready for bed.
I pulled the comforter down and ran my hands over the soft satin sheets, smiling to myself. No more crouching in fear, wondering if a god's giant sandal was going to come crushing through my roof. As I fluffed my pillow, thoughts of Mr. Strange and Sexy flickered through my mind. His broad shoulders, his well-built chest, and the way his muscles seamlessly cascaded down to the leather belt that held his snug leather pants tightly to his body. Without even realizing it, there was a grin on my face.
