Hate

by Gemma Brocato

  Hate

  Gemma Brocato

  Contents

  Blurb

  Also By Gemma Brocato

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  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

  Thank you for reading Hate

  Tyranny

  Mayhem

  Greed

  Hunger

  Newsletter Signup

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Wedding planner Aerie Thanos is the Muse of Romantic Love but in hundreds of lifetimes, she’s never experienced passionate love for herself. The likelihood she’ll find it in this lifetime is fleeting, especially with the return of the ancient deity determined to unleash Hate upon the world. Aerie’s only hope is to team up with the angriest man she’s ever met and prepare for battle.

  Michael ‘Finn’ Finnegan has a lot to be angry about. An abusive childhood forced him to give up on love. But that doesn’t stop lust from taking over the moment he sees Aerie. Plagued by blackouts, he can’t remember their first kiss, but somehow the shared intimacy has sealed his fate as the only man who can help her defeat Hate.

  Working with Finn is unbearable, but Aerie has no choice as the divorce rate skyrockets. Her lifetime of spreading love will all be in vain if she can’t find a way to work with the one man who tests her patience and steals her heart. Together they risk it all to face the challenge because if they fail, humanity will be left in a black world devoid of love.

  Also By Gemma Brocato

  The Goddesses Of Delphi

  Tyranny

  Mayhem

  Greed

  Hunger

  The Five Senses Series

  Cooking Up Love

  Hearts In Harmony

  Exposed To Passion

  Bed Of Roses

  The Five Senses Shorts

  A Winter Wedding

  A Spirited Love

  Playing With Fire

  Romancing The Vine

  Risking The Vine

  Hidden In The Vines

  Chaos Among The Vines

  Trusting The Vine (Coming Soon)

  Durango Desires

  The Wedding Gift

  Taking Chances (Coming Soon)

  Science Fiction Romance

  Mission: Mistletoe

  Copyright

  Hate Copyright © Gemma Brocato, 2017

  Cover Design by Fiona Jayde Media

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are use facetiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  Brocato, Gemma

  Hate / Gemma Brocato

  1. Romance—Fantasy. 2. Romance—Ancient Greek Mythology. 3. Paranormal—Romance—Mythology and Folk Tales 4. Paranormal—Romance—Magical Realism

  Dedication

  For my readers.

  You inspire and motivate me. Without you, I would have stuck with journalism

  Acknowledgments

  Without help from many quarters, this book might never have happened. My family: Mr. Gemma, and my children, Erin and Andrew. You support me and cheer me on and remind me of the good that happens when you share a great love.

  My editor, Piper Denna, a woman of patience and wit. I can’t tell you how great it is to find the funny little notes you string out during the editing cycle.

  Fiona Jayde, of Fiona Jayde Media, the covers for this series are more than I could have hoped for.

  The KickAss Chicks, the Early Bird Writers, and my Sassy sisters, you are all strong, inspiring authors. I am thankful every day for you ladies.

  And most especially to my readers. Without you, I’d be out of a job.

  Author’s Note

  I have been intrigued by Greek mythology since I was quite young. Paintings and depictions of gods and goddesses have inspired great emotion and interest in me, making me want to learn more. So when I decided to write stories shrouded in mythology, it was natural to pick the Muses.

  When I began researching the Muses I was struck by the myth of Pierus, and how he had nine daughters, like Zeus. Daughters, named the Pierides, he believed were superior to the Muses. So he goaded the Muses into a contest. When they won, to punish them for their insolence, Zeus transformed the Pierides into magpies. That legend became the basis for my stories. Nine muses, nine mortal men…nine chances at love to save the world.

  The idea that Pierus would enter his offspring in a battle to take over Olympus evolved naturally. Every story must have a villain, right? Although, I frequently want to beat my head on the desk and wonder why I picked magpies? It’s hard to find nine creative ways to portray the birds. Which is why I took a little poetic license in the naming of the birds. Should Pierus and crew ever win a challenge, all kinds of evil, which already exists in the world, would increase a thousand-fold.

  It hasn’t hurt that I love history…all kinds of history. So salting bits and pieces of the Muses backstory in through historical events made me smile. I hope you will find these little tidbits as much fun as I did.

  I suppose this is where I have to say that any faults or errors in history are mine alone. Hey, if one of my Muses can face a magpie and win, then I guess I can own making mistakes.

  I hope you enjoy this book and will consider leaving a review once you are done. Reviews matter!

  Enjoy!

  Gemma

  One

  Lanterns hung in the trees lining the path to the temple hidden deep in the woodland. A gentle breeze swayed the flames. Flickering shadows bounced off the pine straw walkway and the dark trunks of the ancient Rowan trees. With an undeniable spring in her step, she progressed down the path.

  Tonight was the one-hundred-twenty-seventh time she’d walked toward her destiny. But it was only the first time in this new millennium. She remembered every awakening ceremony, as if it were yesterday.

  She’d felt the first stirring of her powers three weeks previously and immediately reported it to Gaia. Her heart had leapt in her chest, bright and hopeful that this existence would be different. This time she’d find what she’d been denied in every other incarnation.

  This time she’d find the kind of passionate, all-consuming love she’d never had.

  It was only appropriate that Erato, Muse of Romantic Love, should actually experience the emotion so easily inspired in others at least once in all her lives.

  Her parents, Zeus and Gaia, were already in the temple, awaiting her arrival along with her uncles, aunts, and other guests summoned from Olympus for the celebration. Her sisters escorted her toward her destiny, five who’d already attained their powers ahead, the three still unawakened bringing up the rear. She still recalled the single existence where she’d been the eldest, and first to have her powers reinstated. Leading each of her sisters down the pathway had been glorious.

  First born this time was Calliope, an
d she led Terpsichore, Clio, Polyhymnia, and Urania into the temple. Filing in behind Zeus, the Muses sank gracefully onto the antique stone benches fitted with plush pillows. Euterpes, Melpomene, and Thalia hadn’t attained their awakening yet, and were required to remain standing outside the temple. Gaia beamed an encouraging smile their direction, then focused solely on Erato as she stepped into the marble and limestone structure.

  The solemnity and silence of her progression into the temple was broken by the screech of a magpie. The single bird was joined by a cacophony of squawks as the nasty bird’s siblings added their calls to the chorus. In the trees over Zeus’s shoulder nine sets of eyes glowed red. Why were they here? And why now? Was this a portent that the Muses would face a challenge from Pierus again in this lifetime? He hadn’t surfaced for nearly one thousand years. Would this be the time he tried again to free his children?

  She pressed her hands to her ears, drawing her shoulders up. One of the curses of being reborn with memories from all previous existences was that the good came with the truly awful.

  “Aerie!”

  Her assistant’s demand for attention jarred Aerie Thanos back to the present. A shudder crawled down her spine as she emerged from the memory, scanning the trees surrounding the temple in the woods. It had been so real. She expected to see the five remaining magpies roosting in one of the pines. Four of Aerie’s sisters had already conquered the challenge set forth by Pierus three months ago. Although it appeared the challenge was on hiatus, the Muses remained vigilant. They hadn’t seen hide nor scary hair of Pierus and his brats for three weeks.

  A very good thing, because October marriages were second only to June. And the wedding reception Aerie had so meticulously planned, and had worried would be ruined by the ongoing challenge, was moving along without a hitch.

  In this existence, her role was wedding planner. It was a treat to be able to rent the temple on the grounds of the Athenian Resort for receptions. The very same temple where she’d embraced her powers at the age of eighteen.

  She loved the Corinthian columns edging the space. The pediment above the openings depicted woodland nymphs and some of the more lovable satyrs. Perfect for a newly married couple. The limestone ceiling was painted with faded scenes from some of Dionysus’s legendary parties.

  Plus, she always scored a rental discount for the newlyweds, since her parents owned the joint.

  “It’s time to cut the cake.” Bernie gripped Aerie’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and twisted her head toward the kissing bride and groom.

  Bernadette Montgomery had been Aerie’s assistant since she’d first opened Dearly Beloved, her wedding planning business, five years ago. They’d built a solid reputation. Aerie had a proven track record for planning successful events. As a bonus, her couples stayed together beyond the twelve-month milestone. Of course, making couples stick was part of her job as the Muse of Romantic Love. Putting them together and making them last. The wedding party was just icing on the cake and a perfect cover for Aerie’s true purpose.

  Tipping her chin away from Bernie’s fingers, Aerie asked, “Did you find the cake server and knife?” The utensils had been missing thirty minutes earlier. Couldn’t cut the cake without them.

  “The MOG had them. She was afraid someone might steal them.”

  “Of course, she was.” Aerie scanned the guests, looking to see if anyone looked suspicious. Nope, not a single shady-looking person in attendance. Of course, the groom was a cop and many of the guests were co-workers of his.

  Aerie pursed her lips. The mother of the groom had been a pain in her ass from the get-go, questioning every detail. Oh, for the days when the MOG just smiled and wore beige. After their last menu-planning meeting, Aerie had resorted to blowing the woman one of her Musy kisses—delivering an inspirational nudge. Her sister, Nia, mumbled her nudges, and Callie only scowled hers, but that wasn’t for Aerie. She blew kisses toward the target.

  She didn’t like to nudge people outside her realm of influence, but in this case, it was a necessity. The supernatural kiss she sent toward the MOG came with instructions to respect the wishes of the bride and groom. If they wanted carrot cake at their reception, they should have it.

  Now, the bride’s mother interrupted the couple mid-smooch. She backed her way across the room, dragging the laughing pair toward the elaborate four-tiered cake. Aerie rolled her shoulders, but didn’t hide her grin. “Despite her take charge ways, I do love this bride-mom. She’s all about sticking to the timeline. Let’s go.”

  She led Bernie across the marble dance floor, signaling the head of the wait-staff to join them.

  Phillip Cantrell, the pricey photographer, fell in behind them. The man was a genius at coaxing just the right look from couples. He had three cameras on straps hanging off his neck, and a fourth held in front of his face, snapping pictures as the newly married pair approached the large round table at the pronaos, or porch, of the temple. He shook a shock of his wheat-colored hair from his eyes, his finger clicking the button.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” Aerie addressed them. The bride’s smile shifted from happy to incandescent as Aerie used her new title. “As soon as you cut the cake, the dancing can begin. The band is setting up now.” She swept her arm sideways to indicate the stage.

  Aerie keyed her headset and spoke quietly to her lights and sound employee. “Larry, dim the house lights and turn on the spot over the cake.”

  “Roger that.” Larry had started at Dearly Beloved around the same time as Bernie, and the two became inseparable within weeks. Three years ago, Aerie helped them plan their own wild and crazy ceremony and reception. An event she still smiled about.

  As the chandeliers dimmed, fairy lights strung in the trees surrounding the temple twinkled in a slight breeze. Creamy frosting on the cake gleamed brightly as the overhead spot hit full strength.

  The Morgans posed, all smiles and sweet touches as Phillip continued to snap photos. Hands joined, as their lives had been, the couple sliced the cake and fed each other. Before the groom could smash a piece in the bride’s face, Aerie blew a discreet kissy nudge, telling him to play nice. His expression blanked for a beat, then turned tender as he gently fed a morsel to the missus. He tongued away the excess frosting from her smiling lips.

  Aerie swept another gaze around the room, scanning the elegantly attired attendees. Her eyes snagged on one guest in particular. The man was hard to miss due to his height, his craggy, almost handsome but seriously frowning visage. Although he filled out his suit nicely…very nicely…he seemed uncomfortable, as if being in the midst of the fancy-dressed guests made the back of his throat itch. Dark close-cropped hair waved away from his temples. His muscular build made Aerie long to dig her fingers into the biceps stretching his coat sleeves. He wasn’t what she’d call husky, but his shoulders definitely strained the fabric of his black suit coat. The white, button-down shirt reflected the low light. He’d loosened his red tie and pulled it to the left. Dark pants accentuated the man’s long legs.

  She hadn’t seen him at the ceremony. She’d remember him. Or at least, she’d recall his scowl.

  He’d caught her eye and she found it impossible to drag her gaze away. She stopped suddenly and Bernie plowed into her from behind. “Bernie, who’s that man?”

  “Don’t know, but he looks scary.” Bernie righted her hipster glasses with the totally fake lenses.

  Aerie frowned and did a quick mental scan of the guest list. She’d trained her mind to recall details like names, table assignments, and which guests ordered the vegetarian option on the menu. Unfortunately, the bride wasn’t from Delphi originally, so some names on the seating chart were unfamiliar.

  A whine burst forth from the speakers. The orchestra hired by the bride’s parents was conducting a final sound check.

  Aerie would have to think about the rugged guest later. She pivoted to head to the stage and caught sight of her uncle, Mars, known away from Olympus as Martin Pappandreou. For the second t
ime in the past minute, the sight of a man’s face stopped Aerie in her tracks. Mars leaned against one of the marble columns, arms folded over his chest, biceps pulling the seams on his suit jacket, just as the other man’s had. While his posture was nonchalant, his expression remained alert.

  Perplexed might be a better way to describe his look. He also stared at the stranger who’d snagged Aerie’s attention a moment ago. Mars’s blue eyes nearly glowed in the low light in the room. Although the brightness of his eyes would be barely perceptible to mortals, it was a lighthouse beacon to her, a sure sign his supernatural, godlike senses were processing something confusing. Lips parted and eyebrows scrunched, Mars studied the stranger, as if trying to place him, but coming up short.

  Bernie tugged Aerie’s gauzy sleeve. “Aerie, are you coming? The band leader looks like he’s about to blow a fuse.”

  Pushing away thoughts of her uncle’s odd look, she double-timed it behind Bernie to the stage. Known for her efficiency, the assistant pulled the plug-in from one speaker, abruptly halting the annoying feedback, and then she jabbed it into the correct spot.

  Within two minutes, the musicians took their spots and struck up the jazzy rendition of an Andrews Sisters tune the Morgans had picked for their first dance. With the dancing underway, Aerie left the reception in Bernie’s hands and stepped outside for a short break.

  Drawing in deep breaths, she wandered under the fairy lit trees behind the pavilion. Nearby, waves from the small lake broke softly, rhythmically, as they lapped the shoreline. A gentle breeze caressed the skin exposed by the plunging back of her dress. The high neck and deep scoop-backed dress was one of her most glamorous.

  Taking a seat atop an outdoor picnic table, she folded her torso over the tops of her thighs to ease the gripping back muscles. It was a problem that plagued her frequently. The type of ache that accompanied being on her feet for twelve to fourteen hours on wedding event days. From her spot, she noted servers clearing dishes and coffee cups as more and more people joined the crush on the smooth marble dance floor.