by S. E. Babin
The Taming of Hermes
Gods of Olympus Book 1
S.E. Babin
Copyright © 2017 by S.E. Babin
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
1
Hermes
The smells were the first thing to overwhelm my senses. New Orleans had a scent of lust and sin, and underneath that, a hint of violence. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I liked it.
I stepped forward into the drizzling mist of the humid rain and headed straight for the library to deliver the message currently burning a hole in my soul. I walked swift but sure, and people around me, unsure exactly what to make of the enormous blond man strolling through the rain without an umbrella, gave me a wide berth.
It was how it always was, and how it always would be.
As I swept past them, I heard whispers marveling over how I wasn’t getting wet. I started and stumbled slightly.
I had never been able to wear the cloak of a human very well. And apparently, humans didn’t like getting wet—one more infernal thing to remember.
Once I knew no more prying eyes were present, I produced a large umbrella out of thin air and opened it. It was a completely useless tool for someone like me, but if it helped me appear more normal, I would use it.
A few minutes later, I was ogling the library that looked nothing like a library. Built in the 1900s, it looked more like a home for a politician than an establishment for learning. Impressed despite myself, I strode right in, forgetting to shake my umbrella before I did so.
A woman of indeterminate age, but appearing to be at least a hundred a fifty, rushed over to me, her bright white sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor.
“Get out, get out, get out!!” she shrieked as she shook her finger at me.
I stood frozen in alarmed surprise, the umbrella dripping steadily onto the antique floors. When I didn’t immediately move, the old woman pushed up her glasses, held her hands out, and made ready to push me out the door.
Shocked, I allowed her to move me until I stood right back in the dripping rain.
The old woman paid no attention to the rain or how it flowed away from my body.
“No respect for the establishment these days,” she growled, her jowly neck trembling with outrage. “Do not come back until you’ve left that thing outside.” She pointed at the umbrella and flounced back inside with a harrumph.
I looked down at it, blinked, and sighed. “Damn,” I muttered. Way to make a great first impression. Laying the offending tool against the side of the building, I walked back in.
The old woman standing behind the desk frowned at me, but at least she was no longer actively chasing me out of her library.
With a short nod, I strode over to the elevator, mashed one of the buttons, and waited for the doors to slide open. The faster it moved, the faster I could get the hell out of here.
I couldn’t wait to leave this place.
Even though I could have teleported in, dumped the message, and left, I’d been cautioned by my father to play by the rules of Earth. This meant no shenanigans, little to no magic, and no popping in and out at my whim. My distaste of humans as a result of this experience had risen approximately several hundred notches. How they survived moving around town in mechanical metal boxes or with their own two feet appalled me.
The doors slid open, revealing a short hallway and open office toward the end. I moved swiftly, taking the message out of my jacket pocket and holding it by my side.
Once I was through the doors, two things hit me: the smell of freesias and the sight of the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Being from Olympus, there was no shortage of beauty in nature or the perfection of my species. So by all accounts, the woman standing in front of me shouldn’t have been beautiful.
She was too short, too curvy, and too curious for her own good. I could tell in the way she stared at me, a shrewd intellect shining in her dark eyes. She wore glasses, that ridiculous cat-eyed shape that women thought they could get away with. But this woman...she could get away with them. The white frames brought out the chocolate in her warm brown eyes and emphasized the heart shape of her face. Pretty bow lips pursed as I realized I was staring too long and had stopped abruptly in the doorway.
Clearing my throat in an uncomfortable gesture, I stepped forward. The woman crossed her arms and lifted a single brow.
“You look lost,” she said.
And she had the gift of sarcasm. A smile twitched my lips, but I contained it.
“I have a message for you,” I said, reaching forward to hand her the cylinder.
Her brow wrinkled as she stared at my outstretched hand. The cylinder was inscribed with ancient Greek words of power. No one except the recipient could open it. If they tried, they would be struck down by one of my father’s lightning bolts. A messy death indeed, just for curiosity.
The woman took it and lifted her gaze to mine. She blinked a couple times. “Who is it from?”
I wasn’t sure, but even if I knew, there was no way I was going to tell her that, lest she run screaming from the library. I shrugged instead. “I’m just the messenger.”
The look in her creole eyes told me she knew I was much, much more than that. Her pretty mouth turned down, but she nodded. “Thank you.”
I shuffled my feet, stilled, wondered what in the hell I was doing, and stopped. I had wanted nothing more than to get the heck out of this place as soon as I’d arrived, but now, it seemed I wanted to stall a little.
The reason for it: the tempting curvy brunette standing right in front of me biting her lip in curiosity as she stared down at the strange missive.
I blew out an annoyed breath, turned on my heel, and stalked out.
2
Eve
The handsome stranger turned and stalked out of my office, taking half the air with him. I blew out a long, slow, shaky breath and cleared my throat. That right there was a fine specimen of humanity. Tall, blond, and green-eyed, he had a walk like a jungle cat and an ass that just. Would. Not. Quit.
“Lord,” I murmured, fanning myself with the weird letter he’d just dropped off. I didn’t see many men like that dropping in at the local memorial library. Most of my clientele involved scientists, hipsters, or people with way too much time on their hands.
Not drop-dead gorgeous supermodels.
I needed to get a grip on myself. Seriously. I was acting like the school geek who got asked out by the quarterback. Way unlike me.
Once my heartbeat calmed, I held the missive up to the light and studied the strange markings. Greek in origin. Ancient Greek. I tapped the side of it with a fingernail. A strange metal. If it were a fake, it was a darn good one.
I never received personal deliveries, especially nothing as strange as this one. This had to be some kind of elaborate prank, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out anyone who would go to that much effort.
Once the handsome messenger rounded the corner, I slid my thumb under the op
ening of the envelope and pulled out the letter.
Eve,
I am so sorry. I had no other choice.
I blinked in confusion. The letter was unsigned. I turned it over, hoping to find something on the back, but there was nothing.
"Strange," I murmured. I was about to set the letter down when the paper began to tremble. Shocked, I dropped it and stepped away. The letter wobbled in mid-air, spun, and as I scrambled to get away, light poured from it, hitting me straight in the chest.
Gasping for air, I tried to scream for my assistant, but nothing came.
Every molecule in my body was alive as I floated, suspended above the old wooden floor of the library. My breath came in ragged heaves as light poured through all the cells in my body. Seconds later, it was over, and I fell to the ground, sucking in the air the letter took from me.
On my knees, I lifted a hand to study it, marveling at the golden light still spilling from my fingertips.
"What the hell?" I whispered.
Moments later, my assistant came running into the room. "Eve?" he asked. Seeing me on the floor, he scrambled over and fell onto his knees beside me, pushing up the dark, round spectacles on his face. "Are you okay?"
I swallowed hard and nodded.
He helped me up, and I brushed off the dust from my knees before waving him away. "I'm fine. It's...fine," I said, even though I knew it wasn't. I felt...different.
My assistant tilted his head to me, a frown marring his smooth brow. "You look...different."
An amused snort broke from me. "Well, I did have quite the fall," I said, unsure of exactly how to explain what had just happened and knowing no one would believe me even if I tried.
"No," he insisted. "Your eyes. They look...strange."
Confused, I reached for my purse and fumbled through it looking for my compact mirror. I clicked it open and held it up to my face. Gasping, I dropped it. "Shit," I muttered. What in the hell had that letter done to me?
"I—I'm sure it's fine," I said, hearing the shake in my voice. "If they aren't better by tomorrow, I'll go to the doctor."
"You should go now," he said. "I've read in some cases stroke victim’s eyes do funny things right before the big one."
I fixed him with a withering glare. "Steve, go away."
He gave me an owl-like blink. "You don't want to die of a stroke, do you?"
"Go. Away," I repeated through gritted teeth.
He threw up his hands and walked away, muttering about drooling librarians.
Reaching down, I picked up my compact and lifted it back up to my face.
My dark Creole eyes had morphed into the lightest green. It was disturbing. And hopefully temporary.
I rushed to the window and looked down for the man who had delivered the mysterious message. I would find him and force him to explain. I blinked. Maybe I couldn't force him, but I could certainly pressure him into telling me what he had done to me.
3
Hermes
Once I was out of sight of prying eyes, I no longer had to pretend to be human. I shifted quickly over to a hotel in the French Quarter and made my way through the doors. I'd stay one more night. Not because of Eve, I tried to tell myself. Because I didn't get to Earth often and needed to experience it more than I usually did. I shook my head at my own flawed reasoning.
Of course it was because of her. Maybe I'd run back to the library in the morning and try to catch one more glimpse of her before I left.
I manipulated the computer system as I walked up because I hadn't bothered trying to make reservations the correct way. From my understanding, New Orleans was a popular place, and it was difficult to get a room during certain times of the year. I strode up to a young, blonde woman standing behind the desk. She blinked and flushed prettily as she saw me coming.
Easy peasy, I thought to myself as I allowed a wide grin to spread across my face.
"Reservations," I told her, keeping an amused smile on my face as she struggled to access the computer. "For Michael Nardalos."
She nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes, sir." Her pulse beat against her neck like a frightened bird, and I could smell her arousal.
"For one night?" she asked me, her cornflower blue gaze fluttering to mine.
I leaned forward and laid a hand on the desk. "Just one night." I winked and thought the poor girl was going to faint.
Nodding, she dropped her eyes, pulled a key from her drawer, and fumbled with it, trying to sync it to the room.
I was amused but knew I needed to stop screwing with her. Otherwise, I'd be here all day. I straightened, toned down my glamour a little, and watched as the young woman visibly relaxed.
Moments later, she handed over my keys and wished me a good stay. I accepted the key, thanked her, and headed to the elevator, feeling her gaze on my back until I stepped on and the doors shut behind me. Perhaps a little fun with mortals wouldn't be unheard of while I was here. She could be a fun little playmate.
I got out at the third floor, marveling at the old architecture of the building. Certain areas of New Orleans weren't all that bad. Inserting the key, I stepped in and headed right to the massive window at the far side of the room to look at the view. I swept aside the curtain and peered out. Right below me, the noise of strange upbeat music filtered up. I let out a heavy exhale and smiled. The music wasn't half bad. Different than what I was used to, but not bad.
I let the curtain fall and let my gaze run over the room. Spacious and open, it was a room fit for a king. Which I was not, but while on Earth, I could certainly pretend to be, couldn't I?
I dropped down onto the bed, kicked my shoes off, and crossed my arms behind my head.
That woman.
That woman was...something. Not only was she beautiful, but there was a grit in her spine I'd never seen in a mortal. I wondered again, for about the hundredth time, what was in that letter I'd delivered. Strange for me to have to send something to a mortal. Normally, my deliveries were always to the immortals. Not always on Olympus, but I'd rarely had to walk among the humans during my day to day business.
As my job as messenger to the gods, my integrity was critical to my position. Never had I peeked at a message not meant for me. And never had I been tempted until today.
It was a strange location to deliver to and a strange person. Eve was young. I sensed no magic coming from her, and I could tell she had no dealings with the community of others. Although, from her position, I knew she was knowledgeable of our existence. At least in books.
I swung my legs off the bed and prowled back and forth across the room, my curiosity getting the better of me. I wanted to see her again before I left.
The gods help me.
I was in the middle of the French Quarter completely overwhelmed. Bodies pressed against me. Raucous laughter filtered around me. Drinks spilled, food was consumed, music played.
It was jarring to my senses. I shut my eyes for a moment, concentrated on dulling the noise, and exhaled heavily once my magic muffled the revelry. How people could actually live in this city was beyond me, but maybe it had something to do with this thing the humans called the weekend.
I pressed my way through the crowd on my way to a restaurant the cute blonde at the desk told me about.
The Court of Two Sisters.
That sounded suspiciously paranormal, but I knew it was mundane.
Supposedly, their food was delicious.
Once I made my way through the worst of the crowd, it opened and I could breathe again. I stepped into the iron gated opening of the restaurant, staring at the soft lights wrapped around the old trees sweeping through the dining area. New Orleans had its moments.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the hostess desk.
Eve.
I sucked in a gasp of air and blinked as the woman I'd just been obsessing over walked in front of me, her hand wrapped around the elbow of a tall, young man.
Irrational jealousy filled my veins, and I gritted my teeth in an effort
to tamp it down. I stilled at the fresh smell of her and the white her teeth flashed as she smiled at something the man said to her.
She hadn't seen me yet.
I nodded to the hostess and waited for Eve to go first. She turned around, smiled politely, then that smile slid right off her face as her eyes narrowed.
I inclined my head. "Nice to see you again, Eve."
Her lips pressed together, struggling to say something to me. The man she was with noticed my interest, and his look was not so friendly. He stuck out a hand.
"Ian," he said.
My gaze flicked to his hand and back up to Eve's eyes. No longer brown. I ignored the proffered hand, instead focusing on the beauty in front of me.
Ian awkwardly dropped his hand and pulled Eve closer to him.
I resisted the urge to punch the man in his young face.
"I need to talk to you," she hissed as she extricated herself from Ian's grip.
"Eve?" he questioned.
She waved him away. "I'll be right there."
"Uh." His face was priceless.
She turned to him. "Ian. I'm serious. This is work related." She shooed him away, and Ian shook his head in annoyance but allowed the hostess to seat him.
We were alone.
"Your eyes," I pointed out. "Are you wearing contacts?"
If it were possible for a human to growl, she would have. She pulled me by the elbow, teetering me off balance, and led me outside toward a small, secluded table. "Sit," she hissed.
Confused, I obeyed.
Eve pointed to her eyes. "What did you do to me?"
I blinked. "Those aren't contacts?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, you idiot. This happened after you left and I opened that weird letter you gave me!" She waved her fingers around. "Everything feels weird. Heightened. Bizarre. My eyes are strange, and I feel like I'm a live wire ready to spark into a blaze."
