The Greek Gods of Romance Collection

by Winters, Jovee

  I was stepping out of the tunnel into the isle of Gnósi when a shadow came upon me. Always just a hair’s trigger away from aggression, I bowed up, clenched my fists, and felt the flames of war begin to wind serpentine around my body. I glowered at whatever the hells it had been.

  But my aggression instantly melted away when I spotted my uncle Poseidon. The flames were swallowed back into the black armor of war.

  “Move aside, boy,” he growled.

  I frowned. Poseidon wasn’t my favorite uncle, but he usually made an effort to at least pretend he was. Everything about Olympus was political, and since I was Zeus’s and Hera’s favored son, I’d always been fawned over, even by those I knew detested the very sight of me. I moved less than a millimeter to the side, an insult, which he no doubt picked up on judging by the hard smirk on his flattened lips.

  Dressed in a steel-gray suit and tie—a style choice that wouldn’t come into fashion amongst the mortals for at least another seven hundred years—he stared me down. He was an impressive male, just as Father was. Zeus and Poseidon had a neutral alliance of sorts. They didn’t out-and-out hate one another, not the way they did my other uncle, Hades, but they weren’t friendly by any means.

  I frowned and gazed over his shoulder, checking to see if he was alone. Poseidon tended to be surrounded by a bevy of sycophants, much like Father would. They had enormous egos that needed constant stroking, but he was completely alone today.

  Glancing back at him, I wondered why he’d come to visit with the Fates.

  “You’re not so big that I can’t pick you up and lay you over my knees. I said move.”

  Poseidon growled the words, and only now did I notice the agitation that’d tightened fine lines around his eyes and mouth. Whatever had brought him here had to have been serious enough for him to bother leaving his waters.

  For a wild moment, I suffered a need to encourage him and not necessarily because I liked my uncle all that much but because he and Father could be clones of one another, they were so physically similar. Except for their eyes. Father’s were a radiant heavenly blue, whereas Uncle’s were a dark and stormy gray.

  Apart from that, though, their true god forms could be carbon copies. Both had long aquiline features, sharp cheekbones, and a sophisticated arrogance that dripped off every inch of them. It was an unfortunate trait that tended to happen to us greater gods, though I’d fought like hell not to act the douche that came so naturally to them.

  Still without uttering a word, I stepped to the side and swept my arm out. He sniffed, dusted off his sleeves, and marched past but not before giving me a hard shoulder check.

  Normally, anger was an emotion all too close to the surface for me, but I was more shocked than upset by his behavior. I stared at his retreating back, trying to make sense of what could have turned my all-too-politically-aware uncle into a downright bastard.

  Coming up empty, I thinned my lips and turned back to my task. Anyone who came to Gnósi without being a full-fledged god would be forced to run a gauntlet before they could seek the counsel of the Fates.

  After whipping out a small dagger that I always kept tucked inside my boot, I quickly pricked my finger until a welling of golden blood drew to the surface. I tipped my finger over and watched as the droplet fell. The land rumbled, accepting my offering, and the maze that would appear for nearly all did not come for me.

  As gods, most of us were offended by the very notion of being forced to extract even a drop of our golden blood. We were gods, and we were not used to being told no. To anything. But no one, not even Father, argued with the Fates.

  For they had the rare ability to control not just mortal life but immortal as well. I heard they’d never done it. Yet. But there was always a first time for everything. If one wished to speak with them, then one had to follow the rules.

  The lush Mediterranean garden surrounding me quickly morphed into something else. Where before I’d been standing amongst colorful anemones, crocuses, and hyacinths, now I stood inside an antiquated stone chamber with vials full of things. Some were familiar, like crushed gemstone powders, and some were not at all familiar.

  They looked foreign and alien, no doubt coming from a time or a world, even, that was not my own. All gods could traverse realms, planets, and even time continuums. It was how we knew so much. Mortals believed we were either omniscient or prophetic, mostly because we never bothered to dissuade them of the notion. But the truth was far simpler. Very few of us were naturally prophetic, and those of us who were still didn’t know everything. If we had a mind to know something, we would simply ride the stars to discover it. Some of us were better able to navigate time travel than others. And there were some drawbacks to this method of learning. In order to know when in time to go, we had to have some point of reference. Otherwise, we would get lost and wind up only the Fates knew where with very little hope of returning precisely to the point we’d left. If one wasn’t careful with time travel, one could lose great big chunks of life, never to retrieve it again. It was punishment, I would wager, by the hand of Cronus himself for our daring hubris.

  I personally enjoyed time traveling, despite the inherent risks associated with it. The air smelled damp and musty, usual for this setting. But there was also the bitter sweetness of crushed grape skins. The Fates made the best wines in all of Olympus, a fact that must have made Dionysus jealous, but they never shared, which made all the rest of us just as mad as my perpetually drunken brother. But none of us dared say a word to the three about it.

  With a tight frown, I glanced around the strangely scientific-looking chamber full of bubbling beakers and boiling cauldrons. Usually, the Fates were already come when a god came to call.

  The fact that not even one of them was around was unusual.

  “Sister Fates,” I called out, cupping my hand around my mouth. “I come seeking counsel.”

  I didn’t have to announce myself, but it was the polite thing to do. A quick shuffling of sandaled feet sounded, then a head popped out from around the wall.

  She blinked, and her mouth parted into a tiny O of obvious surprise. “Ares,” Lachesis said as she quickly rounded the corner, her arms full of books.

  I rushed toward her and grabbed the books, getting ready to take a tumble. The Fates had a book about literally everything in their ancient library, which would make even the great library of Alexandria weep with envy. The Muses were the scribes of our world, but here was where they stored their greatest treasure.

  “Brother War, why have you come?” she asked as I finally sat the books upon an empty table. Shoving locks of nutmeg-brown hair out of her golden eyes, she gazed at me in obvious confusion.

  She was in her mother form, looking older and wiser than she would in her maiden form, with a few extra wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and a general softness overall, but she was no less beautiful for it. Normally, she wore a crown of blazing stars upon her head, but today, she was dressed unceremoniously.

  I cocked my head. “Did you not expect me?”

  “Well, I hadn’t gone looking, if you must know. I don’t just wake up with knowledge pouring through my head, if that’s what you wondered. I’m the goddess of the present. If you wanted foresight, you should have gone in search of Atropos.”

  I grinned at her clear annoyance. “You’re vexed with me.”

  She rolled her eyes, but I could sense a loosening in her tight limbs. “Yes. And you reek of the drunkard’s wine. Smells worse than cat piss.”

  I snorted. Well, well… someone didn’t like my brother, or at least she wanted me to think so. Funny that Dionysus and Lachesis both seemed to circle back to one another. It made me wonder what I might be missing out on.

  “Why are you here, boy?” She tugged on one of the massive tomes, causing a plume of dust to rise up in the air like a mushroom cloud. Coughing, she covered her mouth with one hand and waved her other hand before her face.

  “Damn Clotho, I told her to clean last night. This place is
a bloody pigsty.” She growled and whipped out a rag from thin air and began to manically dust, whipping up the gods only knew how many decades of dust in the process. I sneezed. As did she.

  Stepping back, I grimaced. “Can’t you do that another time, Lachesis? What’s got you in such a frazzled way this morning?”

  Giving me a soft growl full of sharp little teeth, she finally hung her head and braced her hands on the counter. “What do you want, boy? I’m busy.”

  The Fates, as usual, weren’t the overly affectionate or friendly type. But they weren’t always this abrasive either.

  Jerking a thumb over my shoulder, I said, “I could always come back another time if it would suit…”

  With a heavy sigh, she looked at me, her golden eyes burning with literal fire at their centers. She was beautiful in her own unique way. Though for almost fifty years I’d shared my bed with the most beautiful woman in all of the cosmos, there was none finer than Aphrodite herself.

  Waving the hand that still held the rag, she shook her head. “No, you’re here. Might as well get your answers, though there’s a price.”

  I lifted a brow but had already been aware of the price. There was always a price to be paid when currying the favor of a Fate.

  “Which is?”

  “Clean my study. I bloody hate it, and Clotho’s hied herself off to only she knows where, and I can’t work under these conditions.”

  I narrowed my eyes. As a god of war, I was not accustomed to manual labor of any sort. That was what I had servants for. It was her turn to lift a brow, no doubt in challenge.

  How much did I want this information? Enough to humble myself for it?

  “You sure you don’t wish the head of your enemy nailed to a spike?” I tried.

  She snorted. “Boy, do you even know who I am? If I wish my enemy dead, believe me when I say I’d have no need of anyone’s help. But I hate to dust, and you’re here now. So, your choice.”

  I sighed. There was no other option. Not if I wanted my answers. I could always go in search of a woman of snakes and stone, but considering that I had no clue who this woman was or even if she was yet… I would no doubt get lost in time, and the cost of my arrogance could be more than I would be willing to pay.

  “Bloody hell,” I snarled before yanking off my helmet of war and the breastplate of righteousness. After setting them upon the counter with a heavy bang, I snatched the rag from her hand and set about the humbling task of cleaning.

  She laughed at first. “Never actually thought you’d agree to this, God of War. I must say, if the rest of the pantheon could see you now.”

  “You tell a soul and I swear by all that’s holy, I will unleash a reign of terror upon Gnósi the likes of which you’ve never seen before.”

  “I could always just kill you first.” She shrugged lackadaisically.

  I paused and stared at the mad woman with fire in her eyes and a soft smile upon her lips. “You’re bloody crazy.”

  She laughed. “It’s what they tell me, though I don’t see it. I simply hate manual labor. And I’m quite busy today, so if it’s all right with you, I’ll speak as you clean. What say you?”

  “Fine,” I groused, rubbing hard at a dirt-smudged spot that refused to budge.

  She tapped her slightly pointed chin as she stared at me. The Fates were among the few gods who actually did have the gift of prophecy. But their gifts leaned toward their particular sight. Clotho, as spinner of the wool, could look into the past. Atropos, as the goddess of death or the end of the soul string, could read the future, and Lachesis, as the measurer, could look into the present. Combined, they could read past, present, and future. But all I needed now was present. And ironically, she’d been the one present, or… maybe not so ironically. I wouldn’t have put it past Lachesis to have set this entire thing up, for reasons only she could know.

  “My goodness,” she murmured into the heavy silence a moment later. “Not at all what I expected. This makes twice now. What are the odds of that?”

  “What do you mutter on about, woman?” I snapped, growing grumpy the dustier I felt myself becoming.

  Her laughter was light and airy. “Simply put, that I imagined at first that you’d come to me concerning Aphrodite.” She thinned her lips. “Quite a pickle you’re in there, no? In love for the first time and losing her. Sorry about that, War. Must be a great big blow to the ego.”

  I hammered down on my teeth, grinding my molars to dust as I thought about my current relationship and the mess it’d begun to become. I sensed my lover pulling away, and while yes, it bothered me, it wasn’t actually why I’d come.

  She sighed heavily. “You sure you wouldn’t like to know where she’s at right now?”

  My brows gathered into a sharp V, and I turned to stare at her. “Will you answer both my questions if I do?”

  She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. One question, War.” She held up a single finger.

  I rolled my eyes and got back to work. “Then no, I will not waste my question on my relationship. Aphrodite and I will be well again. Eventually. She does this every so often. I’m not worried.”

  “Hmm” was all she said, and I did not like the sound of that. I bit my bottom lip, gazing at her side-eyed, realizing she was trying to dissuade me from my original purpose but also getting to me a little. What did she know that I didn’t about Aphrodite and me? Were we really in trouble this time?

  Aphrodite enjoyed her peccadilloes, and I’d never hindered her from tasting and sampling the wares of others. She was the goddess of lust and could be pinned down by no man, woman, or beast. But lately, I had felt something shift between us, something profound I’d never felt before. Still, that didn’t necessarily mean we were in trouble, only that she was restless, which happened to her occasionally.

  “You sure you don’t want to know?” she wheedled, and I thinned my eyes. Why did it seem like she was trying to force this issue?

  I shook my head. “Good try, goddess, but I will not waste my question on my current relationship or lack thereof.”

  She shrugged. “Up to you.”

  After walking over to the next dusty bookshelf, I set a bruising pace as I cleaned. “No, I’m here for another question, and that is what I will ask.”

  “The woman of snakes and stone. Yes, I know what you wish to ask.”

  Stopping what I was doing, I turned and stared at the diminutive Fate. Wearing a golden toga and with her hair of nutmeg cascading wildly down her back, her skin freshly washed, she looked so innocent and not at all like one of the most powerful gods in all of Olympus. But my skin crawled with gooseflesh at the casual mention of the oracle’s prophecy told to me a century earlier.

  “I want to know that I can ask anything pertaining to her and not have it be counted as separate questions. Have I got your assurance on this, Lachesis?”

  The Fates were slippery eels if one didn’t nail down the terms first.

  She gave me a cocky smirk. “You learn well, young Ares.”

  It was my turn to snort. Only to a Fate could I be considered young. “My father was quite thorough in my training.”

  “Yes, Zeus is the devil’s own.” She said it almost fondly.

  I shrugged, not denying it. If Father liked you, he could be your greatest ally, but if he didn’t, well… his exploits were legendary for a reason.

  “Fine, young Ares. You may ask me anything concerning the woman of snake and stone.”

  “Is she real?”

  “Oh, very,” she said with an innocent blink.

  Just that casual agreement had my blood feeling like red-hot magma inching through my veins. My suit of armor grew instantly ten times hotter, and the sizzle of steam began to wind like a dragon’s sinuous tail all around me.

  “Mind your steam, boy. These are precious books here.”

  I quickly tamped the emotions down, going from hot to cold in an instant.

  “Was the oracle right, then? Is the woman’s life intertwined wit
h mine?”

  She shook her head. “That depends, Ares. Is it? The choice is still yours.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She grinned. “You do understand choice, no? It’s an action, child. A decision to—”

  “Bloody hell,” I snapped, “of course I know what choice means. But I want to know what choice you speak of?”

  “Well”—she shrugged, seeming unfazed by my gruffness—“you’ve known of her for nigh a century. Yet you’ve never begun to search her out. To look for her, until now. Until today. Ask yourself why.”

  “I don’t know,” I grumbled. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t be here now, would I!”

  The bookshelves vibrated from my fury, and she gave me a stern look of displeasure that reminded me of Mother when I’d irritated her as a child.

  After opening up one of her books, Lachesis looked down at the paper before pulling out vials from drawers and started adding them to an empty cauldron that’d appeared beside her. “I can’t tell you everything. That’s not how this works. Some things, you must determine alone. But you’re a smart boy. I’m sure if you think on this, you can figure it out.”

  Moving through the rest of the dusting as fast but as thoroughly as possible, I finished an instant later and stood over her, staring at her small head as she muttered softly to herself.

  If even my father did not intimidate the Fates, I certainly would never intimidate them. But it was easier to look the mighty and terrifying warlord than the confused chickenshit I suddenly felt.

  “What do you mean?” I asked softly, once more trying to gain control of my volatile emotions.

  With a huff, she planted her hands onto her book and glared at me. It would have been laughable except for the fact that she was the measurer of fate and life, and only an idiot would dare forget it.

  “I mean that this female is important to the very legends of our time and peoples. What you do will determine not just her fate but the fate of thousands. In fact, the hand of fate has already begun to move. Pieces are in play right now, Ares, that could ruin many of us. Divide families and even old alliances. She is far more than what she first appeared to be when the oracle spoke to you.”