The Taming of Hermes (Gods of Olympus Book 1)

by S. E. Babin

"A celebration!"

  I snorted. "For what?" I asked again.

  He turned and gathered me by the shoulders. "Isn't that what humans do when they join together?"

  My brows knit together. "For sex? No, Hermes. That's not what happens at all."

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Not for sex! For love."

  I blinked a few times. "Love?" My heart pounded as I began to understand what he was saying.

  "Yes. On Olympus, we call it something different. But here, I think you call it—"

  "Marriage," I whispered.

  "Yes! Marriage. Eve, this. Marriage is what I want. With you."

  I stumbled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Holy crap," I whispered.

  He fell to his knees in front of me. "Eve, is all well?"

  "Marriage," I murmured, my eyes unfocused. "Why?"

  It was his turn to be weirded out. "Why?" he echoed. "Because you are the best thing in my life. I want you to be mine. Do you not wish for me to be yours?"

  Tears filled my eyes. Concern lined his face. "Of course," I whispered. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Of course I'll be your wife."

  He gathered my face in his hands and let out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were going to say no for a second."

  "Never," I whispered fiercely.

  Three Weeks Later

  I didn’t wear white. I had never really been much of a conformist. I stepped out in my blush pink dress, dark curls spilling around my head, and grinned as Jack stood there holding out his arm to take.

  I clasped it around the elbow. “You’re looking mighty dapper today,” I whispered.

  “Say the word,” he whispered back, “and we’ll hightail it out of here and head to my bomb shelter in Georgia. Hermes might be powerful, but that thing could withstand a nuclear bomb.”

  I snort giggled. “If only,” I lamented. “I’ve always wanted to live in a bomb shelter.”

  Walking me up the aisle, Jack gave me to Hermes and only glared at him once before sticking out his hand. Hermes shook it, and Jack slapped him on the back. “I have guns, and I know how to use them,” he said right before he sat down.

  Hermes sighed. “I still can’t believe I let you invite them,” he hissed.

  “You love them, too,” I murmured.

  We turned and faced the minister. A solemn-faced, massive man wearing an ill-fitting suit, he cleared his throat and gruffly began.

  He spoke about love and hope and heartache, and by the time he was finished, I had to look up to keep the tears in my eyes so my mascara wouldn’t run. Who knew Robert was such a softie? A few minutes later, he pronounced us man and wife, but before he would let us walk back down the aisle, he opened the jacket of his suit and flashed a very large gun. With serious eyes and a killer’s smile, he stared right at Hermes.

  My new husband swallowed hard, turned abruptly, and dragged me down the aisle.

  I turned back and gave Robert a saucy wave.

  Robert winked at me once, and dare I say it...was that a smile on his face?

  Turn the page

  and get a glimpse of Empire of Lust

  by NYT Bestselling Author Jamie Campbell.

  Book 2 in the Gods of Olympus Series

  Empire of Lust

  The sea parted as I stood. Waves crashed as the water made way for me on either side. It respected what I was—who I was. There were so few true goddesses left in the world now, and I was one of them.

  Aphrodite.

  The goddess of love, desire, fertility.

  I walked out of the ocean as the sun caressed my naked skin. My feet reached the sand as the final waves roared onto the land and announced my presence.

  The beach was beautiful, as I had expected it to be. Out of all the places to be exiled to, this one was the top of my list. Thank goodness my father approved, otherwise I could have ended up in Alaska.

  It was time for a new start, a new beginning. I was beyond ready to leave the problems in the past and start afresh. It was what my father wanted, despite the way he went about exiling me.

  You make one mistake, sheesh.

  The white sand slipped between my toes, soft and warm. I headed up the beach, away from the ocean that delivered me here. For the first time, I noticed the people dotted along the shore.

  They were all staring at me.

  Probably in awe of my beauty.

  That happened a lot and it never really got old. They should admire what the gods gave me. I was created for lust, for desire, every person here should bow down to my presence.

  But I had to remember that it was a different time. Those people didn’t understand what it was like when the gods and goddesses of Ancient Greece ruled the world. They may have heard of our legends, but they didn’t see our power in the flesh.

  We were awe-inspiring.

  My naked body dried under the kiss of the sun. Even the last few beads of saltwater were soaked up by the time I reached the sand dunes.

  I scooped up a towel that was laid out on the sand and dabbed at my strawberry blond hair to get the last droplets out. My feet slipped into a pair of sandals. A T-shirt and pair of shorts were in a bag next to the towel. I pulled them on and left the rest of the contents.

  Walking on, many people were staring at me. They could stare all they liked, just as long as they didn’t work out my true identity. I was supposed to fit in here and not bring attention to myself. I laughed when my father gave me this command. I was never one to blend into the crowd.

  Looking down at my arm, I could still see the address scrawled there. I had hastily written it down when receiving my orders. It was the only help my father gave me before throwing me out of the empire.

  An address.

  I walked to the road and smiled at the first man I came across. He was in his fifties and had the whole silver-fox thing going on. His jaw hung open when I approached. “Is this your car?” He nodded. “Can you take me to 63 Sunnyside Drive?”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He hurried around the red vintage Corvette to open the passenger-side door for me. “Please, hop in.”

  I slid into the seat and waited the few seconds it took him to run back around the car and jump in. The radio blared as he switched on the engine. He was tuned to the oldies’ station. The songs playing were decades old. So old, I had forgotten them years ago.

  “You were like a vision coming up that beach,” the man said, his gaze going from me to the road and back again. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before.”

  “I don’t know, this car is quite something.” And it was, fully restored and shining to within an inch of its life.

  “You like it, huh?”

  “It’s impressive. As I’m sure you’re fully acquainted with.”

  His grin split his face in two. “Oh, there are plenty of things I can impress you with.”

  I raised an eyebrow in response. I was used to men falling over themselves to impress me. Sometimes it was women too. At this stage in my long life, it was starting to get old. Unfortunately, I couldn’t change who I was and the allure I gave off.

  “So, are you from around here?” the man continued. Thank goodness the Corvette was wide because his hand was itching to touch my knee.

  “No, just visiting for a while.”

  “I can show you around if you like. I’ve lived here my entire life. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

  “My friend is acting as my guide,” I replied. “But thank you anyway. I’m sure you would have given a great tour.”

  We made small talk for the rest of the drive. By the time we pulled up at the address, I was ready to open the car door and jump—no matter where we were.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I climbed out and closed the door.

  “I can give you my number. You know, if you ever need another lift or something.” That happened a lot. People tended to get attached to me. They didn’t need much. A glance, an expression, a pleasantry exchanged in an elev
ator, or a short drive.

  “I’ll be fine, thank you.” I slammed the door and headed up the path to the house. It was best not to encourage those that got attached. It would only end badly for them.

  And I didn’t need that hassle.

  The house was a two-story brick and tile job. It fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. Pretty little houses stretched on in both directions for as far as I could see. My father had done that on purpose. I needed to fit in, and I was so good at standing out.

  I knocked on the door and waited.

  Footsteps padded inside and the door was swung open. A woman in her mid-twenties stood there, eyeing me for a moment before her expression changed into a smile.

  “Dita! I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in,” she said, gesturing for me to enter. Her chocolate brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail which swayed as she moved.

  “You’re Willa, correct?” I asked.

  “Sure am.”

  She showed me through to a living room which was cozy, if nothing else. Two large couches faced each other with a coffee table placed in the middle. Three piles of books covered the surface of the table.

  Willa pushed her black-rimmed glasses up further on her nose. I got the feeling she did that a lot. “I’m so glad to have you here. It’s been a bit lonely in this house all by myself.”

  “It’s a lovely home,” I replied. It was nothing compared to the palace I had come from, but I’d been expecting that. My exile was not supposed to be luxurious, it was supposed to be punishment.

  The woman looked me up and down quickly. “Is your stuff in your car? I can help you bring it in, if you need a hand.”

  “I had everything shipped over. It will take a few days due to delays.” I rolled my eyes to add credibility to my lie. If I was going to blend into this time and place, I needed to buy clothes from stores located here. My beautiful gowns from home would not meet the definition of assimilating.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll show you around then.”

  Willa gave me the grand tour which consisted of two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, kitchen, study, and dining nook. It was a cute little home, about as big as my slaves’ quarters.

  She also gave me her life story.

  Her life was very boring.

  “So, I won’t be here very much,” she concluded, back in the living room after insisting she make me a cup of tea. “I’m a nurse at the hospital and also studying to specialize. You’ll have this place largely to yourself because of my crazy hours. What do you do?”

  This was where I should have thought about my cover more intently. I’d had to leave Olympus so quickly I didn’t have time to think of everything. “I’m… between jobs right now. But don’t worry, I’ll be able to pay the rent every month. My father is supporting me.”

  I didn’t even need to lie that time.

  Willa nodded her head. “Well, if you need help with anything, I’m here for you. I’m so excited to be doing the whole roommate thing. It’s going to be great!”

  Her enthusiasm was cute, if not exhausting. I excused myself after the tea and insisted I needed to check out the backyard. In truth, I needed a few moments to myself to breathe.

  Everything had happened so quickly. One minute I was in Olympus, the next I was emerging from the waves on the beaches of Ocean Rise. Now I had to pretend I was not the legendary mighty Aphrodite and pretend to be average.

  One day at a time, that’s what I needed to do. Take one day at a time until my father decided I could return home. He’d been so angry that I doubted it would be anytime soon. I needed to make the most of my new life.

  My gaze traveled past the overgrown grass of the backyard to the house next door. A man was crouched over and seemed to be playing with a bunch of mud. His messy caramel-colored hair kept falling into his eyes every time he leaned forward.

  I walked over to the fence, intrigued by the man. He was so focused on the mud that he didn’t notice me watching him.

  “Hello,” I called out. He didn’t respond so I said it again.

  His head twitched as he tried to get his hair out of his eyes with the crook of his elbow. His hands stilled on the pile of ugly brown mud.

  He looked around.

  And I knew I’d met my doom.

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  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling author S.E. Babin has a passion for writing books with a paranormal twist. Whether it's romance or mystery, she loves taking the norm and turning it into the extraordinary. Her love of reading turned into a curious exploration to see whether or not she could write her own novel. Beginning with discarded pages of angsty novels and a slightly popular reimagining of Beowulf's Grendel in her high school English class, Sheryl spent way too much time in the library, killing any chance of her becoming a cheerleader or anything even remotely cool.

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  www.sebabin.com