Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde

by Desperate Housewives of Olympus

  Aphrodite clenched her fists and the flames grew bigger.

  “What’s it to you, anyway?”

  “She’s banging around like two virgins in the dark in my domain.”

  “Which is?”

  “Why twenty questions? Are you writing a book?” Aphrodite demanded sourly.

  “Humor me.”

  “Why should I?”

  “I don’t like to name drop.” He shrugged as if it were all beyond his control.

  She snorted. “If I smite Vivienne is that going to start a pantheonic war? She’s not a goddess!” Aphrodite found herself bordering on hysterical. She didn’t want to explain herself to anyone, including Tattooed McBangable.

  “I’m not trying to bust your balls, gorgeous. See I’ve got this side gig. My name’s Aeron. I’m the Welsh God of Slaughter and War, but on my off days, I’m the Guardian of Avalon. So, yeah. If the smiting is unwarranted, I’ll have to do something.”

  Oh, it would figure. She knew he was hot, and he’d been an option for Artemis, but it irritated her that she was attracted to him. “Another war god? Zeus Harold! Like Ares and his mayhem haven’t bred enough hate in the world.”

  “Gods and mortals go to war over love, too. The Trojan—“

  She smote him. She didn’t mean to, it just happened. Flames erupted from her fingertips and billowed out like a ball gown of doom to envelope him.

  He wasn’t fazed, in fact, he grinned. Which impressed the hell out of her. Even Ares flinched when she smote him. Her goddess bits were burning just as hot as her power. Not that she needed to lust after any more war gods. Ares was quite enough on his own.

  “I, uh, sorry?” She bit her lip. “That war which shall never be mentioned again makes me uncontrollably angry.”

  “I can see that.” He brushed off the last of the flames, but grinned at her. “That’s a right Irish temper you have there, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not Irish. I’m Greek. It’s an Olympian temper.”

  “I think at this point in our relationship seeing as you smote me, you could at least tell me your name and why you’re going to smite Vivienne.”

  “Tenacious, aren’t you?” She sighed. “I suppose I do owe you. I really am sorry. At my age, I should be able to control my temper, but the reason I’m even visiting Avalon is that I only have one nerve left and everyone is chewing on it. Especially Ares. I need a recharge. I’m Aphrodite.”

  “Ah, now I understand. The War That Shall Not Be Named will never slip past these lips again.” He made an “x” across his heart.

  “You’re awfully congenial for a god of war.”

  “I’m the God of War and Slaughter. They are mine, but they are not me.”

  “You should tell that to Ares.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ve tried, but he’s a stubborn ass.”

  “Isn’t he?” Aphrodite closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. “Here’s what—Vivienne has used love as a curse for the last time. It’s my domain and I’m tired of it.”

  “I’ll give you my blessing on one condition.”

  Her brow furrowed. A condition? She almost snarled, but waited to see what he had to say.

  “Let her feel the flames of love that you burned me with, but not with someone unworthy of her.”

  Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. How dare he tell her what to do? As if he was in charge of something. Well, he actually kind of was and she didn’t need an international incident with which her almighty father would have to deal. No, no one wanted that.

  “My problem is that she’s using love as a curse, which I’ve stated a thousand times. It can be a weapon, but not a curse if you understand the difference.”

  “Of course. I’m skilled in all weaponry. Even love.”

  She shivered and Aphrodite hoped that she wouldn’t have to use him as Artemis’s backup plan. He might just be the perfect weapon against Ares. She could find out once and for all how he felt about her.

  “Are you really? We’ll have to see about that.”

  “One can only hope to be found worthy.”

  “You’re a slick one, aren’t you?” But she was used to Ares, so it was unlikely he’d be able to double-talk her.

  “Some say.”

  “I have a proposition for you, depending on how well you like Ares.”

  “I don’t. He’s an arrogant tool.” His lip curled in disdain.

  “That’s kind of perfect. Would you like to make him miserable?”

  “Definitely. He owes me money.”

  “I’m going to be staying at the resort. Why don’t you stop by later and I’ll pitch my proposal over dinner?”

  “I’ll bring wine. Rosa Regale, right?”

  “I—yes.” If Ares had ever offered to bring the wine she would’ve turned to stone like one of Medusa’s victims. If he’d offered to bring Rosa, well, she’d crumble like an old cracker. Color her surprised.

  “Until then, milady.”

  He disappeared.

  Aphrodite couldn’t help but wonder if he’d wear actual clothes to dinner or that little gladiator outfit. She wasn’t sure which she hoped for more.

  Enough about the eye candy and personal plots. She had to deal with Vivienne, who incidentally, was still standing there watching the place where Mordred had been even after he vanished.

  She took her time now, scanning the woman’s aura and peered into her heart. The fool was in love with Arthur. Why hadn’t she seen it before? That was going nowhere fast. Arthur would always and forever be in love with Guinevere. No matter what she did or how she hurt him, Gwen owned his heart.

  Aphrodite felt guilty for hating her. Love had indeed been a curse for Vivienne and it was Aphrodite’s own fault. She should’ve attended to the problem and dug it out at the root before it had a chance to wind itself around Vivenne’s entire being like a poisonous vine.

  Damn.

  Who would make her happy? Who would treasure her heart more than his own? Aphrodite sent out tendrils of her power, searching the island for someone who worshipped Vivienne not as the Lady of the Lake, but as a flesh and blood woman.

  And she found it in the strangest of places.

  Hector de Maris. He’d been sent to foster in Avalon at the age of eight, at sixteen he’d been taken into House du Lac. There, Vivienne had become the epitome of feminine perfection for the young knight. He worshipped her with all the ideals of courtly love, but as a grown man, he loved her as a man loved a woman.

  Vivienne still saw him as the child that fostered in her house.

  He was perfect. Their match would right a wrong, and the road to achieving it for Vivienne would be plenty of punishment for her transgressions. All in all, a good day’s work.

  She’d start with a little nudge. One to Hector to go visit and another to Vivienne so she’d notice that he was no longer that young knight, but a man whose sword belonged to the Round Table.

  Sword. Aphrodite snickered and couldn’t wait to tell Artemis about these new developments. Although, it would have to wait. She wanted to give her time to put their plan for Mordred in motion first.

  Aphrodite could admit she wove a tangled web, but it was all for the greater good.

  “Miss me, yet?” Ares materialized with his arms around her.

  “What did I tell you about following me?” she sighed, exasperated.

  “Woman, I’ve known you for a million years. At least. When you say don’t follow, that means you want me to chase. So here I am.”

  “No, I really didn’t want you to chase me.”

  “Why, are you here with someone?” His grip tightened possessively.

  “Yes. Artemis.” She shoved him off of her.

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “If you must know,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’m having dinner with Aeron tonight.”

  “Aeron?” Ares snorted the name like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Honey, if you want to get away from me, he’s not goin
g to help you. He’s a war god, too. You just can’t help yourself. Why not save us both the trouble and just come spend the weekend at my temple. We’ll get take-out, it will be a good time.”

  “No. No. And no. I’m on an island resort. Why would I want to go back to your boring old temple on Ambrosia Lane?”

  “Because I’m there. Our bed is there.”

  “Our bed?” she parroted, the last syllable ending on an impossibly high note.

  “You’re the only one I shag in it, so I imagine that yes, it is our bed.”

  “What about Hyacinth?”

  “Look, we’ve been over that. I thought I had permission.”

  “Do what you want means I’m tired of dealing with it because I know you’re going to do it anyway. It’s not actually permission.”

  “Then why do you say it?” he growled. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight. Unless it means we’ll end up naked. I just… you want something from me and I’m trying to give it to you.”

  “I already told you what I wanted, Ares. I want you to admit either that you love me or that you don’t. No more pussy-footing around. And I do mean pussy. You’re the God of War, for fuck’s sake. You should be able to speak about what you feel like a grown man.”

  “The key words there are “man” and “pussy”. Those feelings develop deep in a vagina, which I do not have.”

  “What?” Did he really just say that?

  “Men aren’t wired that way.”

  “You are the dumbest creature on two feet. I can’t believe I let you put parts of your body inside of mine.”

  “I’m just being honest.”

  “That’s it. You need to leave. We’re still on a break.”

  “So, just to be clear, we’re on a break, meaning you’re not going to shag me, you may shag other people, but I’m supposed to sit at home and think about what I did wrong? This is another version of ‘do what you want, but don’t really.’ Do I have that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you weren’t so good in bed, I wouldn’t put up with this. Just so you know that.”

  “Ares!” She stomped her foot.

  “Later, babe.” And he disappeared.

  Damn it, but that god drove her insane. Why did she put herself through this?

  10

  VIVIENNE

  Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

  And Avalon.

  Vivienne couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly, but she didn’t like it. Definitely a disturbance in the force. Something more sinister than Mordred’s earlier antics.

  It had started like a buzz at the base of her skull and pricked down her spine in a succession of bee stings. The sensation was decidedly uncomfortable. After scanning the island with her magick, she found nothing amiss and decided that perhaps she just needed to recharge in the warm, soothing waters of the lake where she drew her power.

  After she made her way to the lake, she stripped off her robes and waded into the steaming waters until she was immersed to her neck. The buzzing and stinging stopped after she titled her head back and let the healing, restorative properties cleanse and renew her.

  When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a very broad chest. The pecs were smattered with a sprinkling of golden hair that narrowed into the most delicious trail down the abs where it and the real estate available for her viewing pleasure disappeared.

  “Milady,” the owner of the pecs spoke.

  She looked up at his face. Holy Goddess, it was Hector de Maris.

  No. It couldn’t be. Hector de Maris was still a boy, had barely earned his spurs. She’d fostered him in her own home before he’d been knighted. He was her son’s friend.

  Slowly, her brain made the connections.

  Lancelot was a grown man. Had been for some time. She’d accepted that. By that reasoning, since Lance and Hector were the same age, Hector was a grown man, too.

  Nope. The synapses still weren’t firing correctly.

  Hector de Maris was a kid and this man was built like… well… a man.

  A big, strong man, she’d like to—NO. Not going there. This was Avalon, not Jerry Springer. Her brain was doing funny things to her because she’d gone so long without sex while pining over Arthur.

  This wouldn’t do. Not at all. She should’ve made use of her personal guard a long time ago. They were there to see to all of her needs, including physical. Only, it had been so long, she didn’t remember who was on her personal guard. So many had gotten married and settled down once Avalon had retreated from the rest of the world.

  Aeron had seen to Avalon’s defense perhaps too well.

  Then she realized Hector was still looking at her, expecting a response. They were both naked.

  He must have seen her entering the lake.

  Naked.

  No, no. She wasn’t naked. She was skyclad. There was a difference. This was ceremonial, her body was a vessel, she was working magick and—

  And she had to stop lying to herself. Sex was a natural, normal body function. Vivienne wasn’t wrong for craving sex; she was wrong for denying herself. Maybe that’s where the buzzing in the back of her head had come from? She needed to refill the well in all ways.

  “Lady Vivienne?” he asked, his big hand closing around her upper arm.

  She’d been about to answer but his touch caused her magick to swell like dragon’s fire and it erupted from her in blue flame.

  Hector didn’t hesitate. He swept her up against his hard chest and carried her toward the shore.

  Vivienne found her voice. “I’m fine,” she croaked.

  He didn’t stop.

  “Hector.” She used her best Hell-Hath-No-Fury-Like-the-Lady-of-the-Lake voice.

  He stopped and looked down at her.

  Vivienne was suddenly very aware of her bare breasts pressed against his chest, and of his brute strength, but most especially that he was hers to command. It was a heady rush.

  “I’m in no danger. You can put me down.” He could, but she didn’t want him to. “It’s just been a rough day.”

  “Then let me care for you until you are restored. You have long denied yourself the luxuries of your office and to do your duty to Avalon, you must do your duty to yourself.”

  “You’re very wise for one so young, Sir de Maris.”

  “Youth? In the matter of centuries, what is fifteen years?” he referred to the years between them.

  Nothing. It was nothing at all. Especially not when his hands were on her skin. “I suppose those years don’t seem like much after so long. But you will always be the solemn boy who told me he wanted to commit his life to the glory of Avalon.”

  “Vivienne,” he began.

  The way he said her given name was decadent. As if it tasted sweet on his tongue. She shivered.

  “I have not been a boy for many years. I am a knight and a man. I have killed. I have bled. I have served Avalon. Served you.”

  This made her think of how she wanted him to serve her. Naked and on his knees…

  “I meant no insult.” No, she just wanted to control this reaction she had to him. Vivienne was in love with Arthur, so she shouldn’t feel this for Hector. By the goddess, she shouldn’t be in love with Arthur either.

  For a brief moment, her twisted brain wondered if this was how Gwen felt torn between Arthur and Lance. Not that it mattered. She didn’t need to see things from Gwen’s perspective. More than that, she didn’t want to.

  Hector moved into deeper water, away from the shore.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You shivered and you are not yet restored.”

  Vivienne leaned her head against his well-sculpted shoulder. “Surely, you must have something better to do than haul me around the lake. I do have a personal guard, you know.”

  “That you utilize so rarely you’ve forgotten I’m on it.”

  Oh Dear Goddess!

  “It is my duty and my pleasure to see to any of your needs.”
>
  She was sure her clit just exploded. Having him had just become a very real possibility. Any knight who accepted a position on her personal guard knew that seeing to her physical needs was part of the job.

  That hand on her thigh could be between them bringing her to orgasm right here, right now, if she so desired it. All she had to do was tell him. Open her mouth and say, “Hector…” Yet, she couldn’t even finish that sentence in her head where he couldn’t hear her.

  Even though she was Lady of the Lake, even though it was within her rights to use her personal guard in such a manner, she’d only ever done so once and that had been with Lance’s father.

  She preferred men to pursue her because then she knew they wanted her. With her guard, it was a duty. Vivienne wanted to inspire passion, lust, and need. She didn’t want to be a chore or task to be completed.

  “The lake is warmer here.” He finally stopped after rounding a copse of rocks.

  “I’d forgotten this was here!” Vivienne cried out in delight. He’d brought her to a small, yet exotic grotto where there was an abundance of plant life and thick, broad ferns spread their fronds like a curtain over the entryway.

  “As I said, Vivienne, it has been too long since you’ve seen to your own needs. Or allowed anyone else to do so. Why do you deny yourself?”

  Because I don’t deserve it. That was a little more truth than what she was willing to share. But Hector was far more perceptive than she’d realized.

  “Guilt is a heavy mantle especially when there is no reason for it.” He eased her down onto a rock facing the shore and with gentle fingers, titled her head back into the water and massaged her scalp.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Don’t I? I was Lance’s best friend. I know how he suffered and I know what you did. If Lance and Arthur have forgiven you, don’t you think it’s time you forgive yourself?”

  “No. Arthur can’t truly forgive me because he doesn’t know the depths of my betrayal,” she whispered.

  His fingers moved down her scalp to her spine, stopping just at the sacral dip, to work back up over her shoulders and down her arms.

  “I’ll be your confessor, Vivienne. I’ll keep your sins.”