by C. C. Ekeke
As much as I loved Hugo and Greyson’s stories, I loved Quinn’s dive into the teen superhero world. I got inspired by some of the crazy teen celeb stories we’ve seen in the 2000s and 2010s. Missy was a cautionary tale of a famous teen hero, and how easily they can burn out under bad and corrupting influences. Will we see Missy again? Who knows?
Now, onto Book 4, Gods of Wrath. We will see a four-month time jump between Book 3 and 4, with more developments in the lives of our three main characters. When it will come out? Unlike the first three novels, there were some life obstacles that delayed me finishing the novel. However, Book 4 will be out in late summer/early fall. And trust me, it will be worth the wait!
Until next time folks,
CCE
PS. If you want to find out when the next Pantheon Saga book will be release, there are several ways you can stay informed.
Come over to the Facebook Group, CC Ekeke’s Super Cool Readers, and say hi. You get to hang out with other readers and geek out over all things sci-fi and stuff.
Follow me directly on Amazon. Head over to my Amazon author profile and click Follow beneath my picture. Amazon will now notify you whenever I release a new book. All you need afterward is to check your emails. Easy, right?
You can join my newsletter list by clicking here. This way I can stay in touch with you directly, and get notified of all my new releases.
Doing one of all three of these (recommended) will ensure that you hear about each new release in The Pantheon Saga. Go ahead and do one of them. I’ll wait.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C.C. Ekeke is a California native by way of Georgia via Missouri, spending his childhood on a steady diet of sci-fi movies and television shows, as well as superhero comic books. It was in college studying for a degree in advertising that he stumbled across a desire to write books. You can find him occasionally navigating the globe like Waldo (minus the red-striped sweater) or on www.ccekeke.com.
Generation Next is Ekeke’s seventh full-length novel.
Family Matters
Life was much simpler when Spencer Michelman treated boys like candy. Sugary but brief pleasures.
Then again, simple lives were for simple losers.
She exited her steam-filled bathroom, just finishing her shower. Swaddled in a lavender robe, Spencer was toweling her damp black hair dry. She gazed around her vast and luxe bedroom to find the long-limbed and strapping boy still asleep in her bed. Steel-grey sheets were all that covered his lower half.
He’s so beautiful. Spencer’s cheeks burned. She was still punch-drunk from the series of events that led Hugo Malalou back into her bed.
She’d actually ended her month-long fling with him last December, for the sake of her friendship with Briseis. The last thing she wanted was to cause drama—not without good reason.
Then the school bombing happened.
Spencer dropped her towel on the marble bathroom countertop, shivering despite the muggy air flowing from her shower. Yesterday’s grisly and horrifying events replayed through her head. She and Lia had been in a bathroom as the bomb blast rocked Paso High’s English building.
Some psycho called Mr. Blank was turning kids into unwilling suicide bombers across San Miguel, Santa Maria, and Paso Robles High.
Thank God that Brie and Hugo, both who’d been in the library when it exploded, had survived.
Brie was in the hospital still, banged up and concussed.
Hugo was a different matter.
He’d come over last night. They’d talked for hours. Watching this big, strong boy weep over the deaths of two classmates he didn’t know cracked through Spencer’s black heart for some dumb reason.
For a girl who wasn’t sentimental, Hugo’s empathy rubbing off on her had been horrifying. Gah!
“It’s not your fault,” she’d assured while cradling his grief. “There was no way you could’ve saved them.”
“I could’ve done more,” Hugo had wept, his frame trembling in her arms. “I should’ve done more.”
Spencer had kissed him just to end his anguish. It didn’t take long for Hugo to reply, with his hands wandering all over her. Soon they were a tangle of limbs, lust, and hormones, just like old times. A blissful distraction from yesterday’s horrors. Any lingering loyalty to Brie evaporated.
Spencer smirked, her body still buzzing from last night. She approached and parked on her bed beside Hugo to gaze down at him.
The Hugo Malalou in her bed was a man, not the pathetic and scrawny boy from freshman year who barely stood taller than Spencer. He had a body built like Sentinel and a drool-worthy six-pack. Or was it an eight-pack? Hugo looked so peaceful when he slept, and actually resembled a sixteen-year-old.
Spencer leaned closer to inspect him. If someone had told her that Hugo had been inside the library when it exploded, she’d have called them liars. Hugo had no burns or cuts or visible injuries.
Spencer ran delicate fingers across Hugo’s chest, relishing the feel of rock-hard muscle. Up until yesterday, she had only known about Hugo’s psychic powers, having experienced them a few times since they’d grown closer. Hugo had given some bullshit excuse of it being some Samoan meditation ritual. But Spencer played along, hoping to gain his trust.
After he’d survived a goddamn bomb explosion, Spencer had to learn what else he could do.
“What are you?” Spencer murmured. Her fingers roved from Hugo’s chest down to the contours of his abs, tracing around each island of muscle. She gently walked her fingers toward his lower extremities…
“Kinda early for that, Spence?”
Spencer jerked her hand away and looked up.
Hugo was watching her through sleepy eyes.
“Says who?” Spencer hated being rattled like that. “How long have you been awake?”
Hugo stretched his arms and yawned. “A few minutes,” he admitted. “To let you enjoy the view.”
His words left Spencer fuming and flustered. She hated how Hugo kept getting under her hood—yet secretly loved it.
“Motherfucker.” Spencer aimed a slap at his face.
Hugo caught her hand insanely fast, laughing, and pulled her on top of him.
Suddenly, his lips were searching her throat, short-circuiting Spencer’s frustration.
Soft tremors vibrated through Spencer’s flesh as Hugo peeled off her robe. She started kissing him back, straddling his waist, and melted into him…
After they finished, she was snuggling against him, spent yet pleased.
“That was hot,” Spencer cooed.
“And fun,” Hugo whispered with a sweet smile. His face was as flushed as she felt.
Spencer smirked and squeezed his waist between her thighs. “How are you feeling?”
Hugo made a soft, contented noise. “All the blood’s left my brain,” he groaned.
“About yesterday, nympho.” Spencer scowled.
Hugo stopped smiling. “Okay, I guess.” He gave a sheepish shrug. “I gotta tell you something.”
Spencer’s heart thrummed in anticipation. Was he going to admit what he was?
“Thanks for last night,” Hugo said instead. His stare got intense. “Guess I was really wound up.”
He still doesn’t trust me. Spencer masked her disappointment behind contempt and pulled away from his reach. “Just don’t get all mushy on me.”
Hugo blinked, then raised his hands in defeat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Spencer rose from bed while slipping her robe back on. She understood Hugo’s paranoia around trusting anyone. She didn’t plan on betraying him—ever.
Mushy. Spencer shuddered while tightening her robe belt. Blech.
When she turned around, Hugo was watching.
The shark-like grin on his face was making Spencer weak. What was it about this boy??
Thanks to Hugo, she’d been feeling this “emotional” stuff a lot lately. Normally, Spencer wanted to run and NOT feel this—like with J-Tom.
“You got plans today?”
Hugo asked. “Since school’s closed?”
“Stopping by the hospital to visit Brie,” Spencer stated with an eye roll.
Hugo’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get too excited.”
Spencer winced. Her anger must’ve been seeping through. Since Briseis’s injury yesterday, Spencer and the other girls had to treat her like a saint. “No, it’s just…” She sashayed back to the bed, cupping Hugo’s face in her hands. “I’d rather do this, all day, all night.” She leaned in and kissed him.
Hugo kissed her back for a few moments. “Sounds fun,” he teased and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. “But I need to get home,” he stated with zero enthusiasm. His muscular arms flexed deliciously when he pressed both palms onto the bed. “Hopefully, the reporters are gone.”
Spencer tilted her head in sympathy. Apparently, the local press had parked outside his house in Paso Robles since he’d survived an explosion. She grinned, knowing the perfect solution. “Stay for a home-cooked breakfast?”
Hugo made a face. “You’re cooking?”
“Have you met me?” she scoffed.
“Unfortunately.”
She gasped. “Asshole!” Yet she couldn’t stay mad at such wit. “Get dressed and get ready for the best breakfast ever.” She smirked and walked to the exit. Knowing Hugo loved watching her, she put some more sway in her curvy hips.
The moment she closed the door behind her, she made a choice. I’ll tell Hugo I know about him.
The decision knocked the wind out of her. She leaned back against a wall to consider the fallout. Would Hugo deny having powers? Would he get angry and walk out?
Walk out on what? Spencer chided herself. It wasn’t like they were a real couple or anything. That was her old self speaking. The stone-cold love-them-and-leave-them bitch.
Still, pinpricks of affection pierced through. If Hugo could see how much she cared and how good she was at protecting secrets, maybe he’d fully trust her.
“I’ll get what I want,” she assured herself. With that in mind, she headed downstairs.
Spencer strode into the first floor of her penthouse in downtown San Miguel’s Pendleton Suites. Seven thousand square feet, insanely spacious, clean, and austere in design from the bedrooms to the open terrace. Not her choice, but she’d grown to love the décor.
The views from downtown to the pristine blue seas didn’t hurt either.
This was supposed to house a family of four. But with her sister, Rowan, at private school in upstate New York and Daddy always traveling on business, Spencer lived alone.
Well, not totally alone, Spencer mused when staring into her kitchen. A plump older man with balding grey hair dressed in business-casual attire stood behind the kitchen island, cleaning it off. Xavier, her personal chef and one of her babysitters. She liked Xavier and appreciated his diligent service.
“Good morning, Xavier,” she greeted with a big smile while marching into the kitchen.
Xavier stared back. “Morning, Ms. Spencer,” he replied kindly.
Spencer grimaced, understanding his reaction. But Spencer had sometimes been dismissive or rude to him whenever she’d had a bad day. Or because she could. I can be an asshole.
Maybe taking a page out of J-Tom’s book and being nice-ish would go a long way.
“Make me San Francisco omelet with waffles and the mixed fruit combo I like? For two, please?” She held up two fingers for emphasis, wrinkling her nose.
Xavier had an odd look on his face. “We better make it four, Ms. Spencer.” He sounded remorseful.
Spencer frowned. “Why?”
Right on cue, a click down the foyer denoted the front door opening. Familiar footsteps pitter-pattered inside. Spencer whirled. “No…” she breathed as dread filled her veins.
Seconds later, a bubbly girl at the start of adolescence burst in the kitchen wearing a preppy sweater and plaid skirt. “Spence!” She attacked Spencer with a fierce hug.
The overt similarities between Spencer and her thirteen-year-old sister were obvious. Naturally bronzed skin, dark hair, and blue eyes like pools of midnight.
Spencer swallowed her shock and recoiled. “Rowan?”
Rowan greeted Xavier warmly, then refocused on Spencer. “Are you okay?”
Her genuine concern neutralized Spencer’s aggravation. “I’m fine.” She looked her sister over, marveling. Weekly video chats didn’t emphasize how much Rowan had changed since holiday break. Her hair was longer and wavier, her string-bean figure showing hints of their mother’s Brazilian curves. Rowan was growing into a woman.
I’m still taller, Spencer gloated and drew Rowan back into a hug.
The shock soon wore off. Spencer pulled away again. “Wait… Why aren’t you at school?” Rowan was the good daughter who would never break the rules just to see Spencer.
“We both wanted to see you in person.” The harsh voice flavored with reserve and faint contempt filled the room.
A dull ache raced down Spencer's sternum. Suddenly, she felt like a deer that had spotted a coyote.
Xavier’s stare told a thousand tales before he nodded and powerwalked out of the kitchen.
Spencer sucked in a shaky breath and turned to see Dr. Ezra Michelman in the doorway of the kitchen—his kitchen.
He was average in height, slim yet fit with a custom charcoal suit and dark green tie. At a glance, Spencer saw nothing of herself in the doctor's narrow features and prominent nose or the wiry hair sporting more grey than brown.
The only similarity she inherited were his eyes, dark blue like bruises, yet icier when he studied her. How apropos.
“Daddy?” Spencer cringed. She hated how that need for approval cracked her voice.
Dr. Michelman walked up. That faint smile barely offset his aloof stare. “How are you, Spence?” He advanced and offered a brief hug.
Spencer didn’t hug back, too shocked by her father’s rare show of affection. Dr. Michelman always doted on Rowan, but rarely his eldest daughter.
Rowan watched in silent sympathy.
Spencer reminded herself how this thaw in behavior changed nothing. Daddy still hates me. “Like I said on FaceTime,” Spencer said, putting some distance between them, “you didn’t have to come.”
“You’re my daughter.” Dr. Michelman’s patronizing scowl made her feel small. “Why wouldn’t I show up?” He glanced at Rowan. “Your sister will fly back to school the day after tomorrow. I’ll be in town the next few days, which is a chance to visit the Paxton-Brandt office.”
Spencer kept her expression plain, guiding the turmoil underneath. “Wonderful,” she remarked dryly. Of course Daddy wouldn’t come just to see her.
“How’s Briseis?” Rowan interjected once the conversation lulled. God bless that girl.
“Better when I left yesterday,” Spencer replied, adjusting her robe. “I’m visiting the hospital later.”
“Can I come?” Rowan asked.
Spencer’s heart fluttered. “Sure, Ro-Ro.” She pulled her into a side hug.
Dr. Michelman nodded curtly. “All three of us will go.”
“Daddy, that’s not necessary,” Spencer objected. She only planned on a half-hour-or-less visit. Daddy joining her would make that impossible.
Dr. Michelman gave her a suspicious frown. “Is she in critical condition?”
Spencer clenched her teeth. No way would she explain how her once-close friend was becoming a miserable, tyrannical bitch toward everyone. Her scheme last fall had been to pit Brie and Jody against each other, keeping them distracted so she’d have Hugo all to herself.
Clearly that strategy had worked too well on Brie. “She has some cuts and a concussion.”
“Then we’ll visit,” Dr. Michelman’s statement ended any further debate. “Now whose sneakers are in the foyer?”
Spencer flinched. She’d momentarily forgotten that Hugo was upstairs. “A friend,” she muttered.
Rowan perked up. “Ooooooh!” She poked at Spencer’s arm. “Is it J-Tom?�
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Spencer swatted her away. “Only good friends call her that,” she snapped.
“Unless she now wears size 14 men’s shoes.” Daddy’s probing gaze burned into her. “Another random boy?” he commented in acid tones.
Spencer stiffened. That was the first salvo. “Nobody you’d know,” she dismissed.
“Or you’d know either, I’m guessing.” Dr. Michelman’s disgust was withering.
“Spencer.”
She whirled around. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
Hugo stood at the kitchen entrance fully dressed, towering over everyone from afar.
The surprise from him sneaking up on everyone was a momentary surprise, because he looked so good in a white t-shirt and jeans.
The concern on Hugo’s face should’ve warmed Spencer’s heart.
Right now, she wanted him gone. Too many times, her father either embarrassed her flings or used them to dress her down. J-Tom was one of the few who charmed him with her positivity.
Spence looked to her father and did a double-take.
Dr. Michelman was staring…no, gaping…at Hugo.
“Helloooo!” Rowan’s chirp drew Spencer’s attention. Her sister was watching Hugo with great interest.
That annoyed Spencer considerably. She stepped in front of Rowan to block her view.
Hugo entered the kitchen, offering a limp handwave. “Hey, everyone.” His attention returned to Spencer. “Is this Clan Michelman?”
