He tipped his baseball cap. The stranger's grin revealed bits of crumbs. "And you are...?" I noticed the checkered scarf around his neck. "Hermes." "The brand?" "The man." He sent dancing fingers through the air in a snazzy salute. "G'morning, sweetheart. Loved the sandwich." "Apparently," I mumbled. "So, how did you get in? The doors are locked, and I didn't hear any breaking glass." I looked him up and down. "Get lost on the way to a toga party?" Maybe he was a crazy frat bro. "My life's a party - I bring it with me, or steal Dionysus' thunder." He sipped from a chipped coffee mug, then ah'ed appreciatively. "By Jove's hairy derriere, what a drink. Wine pales in comparison. To the gods of old, and young days long since gone." He wandered into my dining room. "We don't love them til they're gone." My eyes convulsed. "Sorry, but who did you say you were?" I looked at his hands. They were tapered like the fingers of an artist who smuggled on the side. His eyes bespoke whimsy. Looking at this stranger was, in fact, like taking the first, dangerous bite of a melty grilled cheese. "Hermes: the man, not the scarf," ___ My George Foreman grilled cheese was so unholily good, it summoned the Greek God Hermes! Now, I'm on an epic quest to save my father Prometheus from the clutches of Zeus, and restore Hestia's temple flame to Olympus with the fabled Prometheion flower my beloved father Prometheus spent his life hiding. But with the Titans plotting, Cronus rising, and Zeus as dastardly and cunning as ever, all enemies to Hermes and I, can the sexy Messenger God and I make it through, or will I become the ultimate Human Sacrifice?
The stench of my George Foreman mini-grill revealed something was burning. I stopped mid-hallway: something, or someone, was awry in my house.
I'd always wondered if grilled cheeses opened portals to other worlds. There's just something eerie about them. Nothing in the universe is so simple yet so, so appealing. In the Sandwich Olympics, grilled cheese is king. The divine scent of the cheddar entices even the gods.
Gathering my courage, I faced the intruder.
A man munched on the sandwich as Mr. Foreman burned. He leaned against the counter, merry eyes daring me to question. From his anachronistic toga to his winged sandals, he was a blaring example as to why one shouldn't leave sandwiches alone - you never knew who might steal them.
He tipped his baseball cap. The stranger's grin revealed bits of crumbs.
"And you are...?"
I noticed the checkered scarf around his neck.
"Hermes."
"The brand?"
"The man." He sent dancing fingers through the air in a snazzy salute. "G'morning, sweetheart. Loved the sandwich."
"Apparently," I mumbled. "So, how did you get in? The doors are locked, and I didn't hear any breaking glass." I looked him up and down. "Get lost on the way to a toga party?" Maybe he was a crazy frat bro.
"My life's a party - I bring it with me, or steal Dionysus' thunder." He sipped from a chipped coffee mug, then ah'ed appreciatively. "By Jove's hairy derriere, what a drink. Wine pales in comparison. To the gods of old, and young days long since gone." He wandered into my dining room. "We don't love them til they're gone."
My eyes convulsed. "Sorry, but who did you say you were?" I looked at his hands. They were tapered like the fingers of an artist who smuggled on the side.
His eyes bespoke whimsy. Looking at this stranger was, in fact, like taking the first, dangerous bite of a melty grilled cheese.
"Hermes: the man, not the scarf," he sang, opening the porch door.
Hermes nearly flew over to the porch's edge, tipping the mug over the railing and raining coffee on the ground.
"To Olympus." My mug went flying. "We make this sacrifice of vessel and drink. A blessing upon the woman who is such a kind hostess."
"You killed my coffee cup!"
Hermes shrugged. "Sacrificing things of meaning makes the gods likely to smile upon you. Just don't pull a Tantalus, m'kay?" He nudged my shoulder. "I'm getting you heavenly boons."
"Are they worth my coffee?"
"Most definitely." He patted me on the back. "So, love, the reason I'm here: your old man wants to chat."
I sunk, comet-hard, onto the porch. The so-called Hermes blurred before my eyes.
"My - my dad?" I stammered. Hermes helped me up. "But my parents are deadbeats." I choked back tears. "They bolted. I was twelve. I came home and found the house empty. Things were always hard for us, and my parents were always... strange, but to do that to your kid?" Shivers flooded me. "Don't tell me you know him. He's better off dead."
Hermes whistled low. "He didn't want to. The man never shut up about you."
"As if a lost frat boy knew him!" I stumbled back into the house, sinking into the couch.
A steaming mug of tea appeared in my hands.
"Drink it up, honey. It's sweetened with ambrosia – it'll give you strength."
I drank reluctantly, memories flooding my head. Whatever crap the lunatic had spiced it with tasted bittersweet, like a worm drawing old wounds from my brain:
Dad, tinkering with circuits, showing me how to make metal come to life. His proud face as I showed him my inventions. "You were born to create," he'd whisper.
He'd chased me through fields, taken me camping in the Catskills. I'd watched as he built a bonfire, his eyes sparking as the flames grew.
"Fire's a gift, Agalia," he'd said I toasted marshmallows. His eyes, sometimes, grew strange to me. There was a burning in their depths like moonstone.
The lullabies he'd sang to me, in his honeyed Greek tongue. Toys painted just for me. The stories he'd spun, of the Greek gods and their follies, like the myths were his.
"I was only twelve," I said. "In sixth grade, Jesus Christ. The cops looked everywhere. No trace. They cycled me into a hellhole of foster homes and left me heartbroken. Don't tell me you knew him."
Hermes' eyes glowed. "There was no other way. If there had been, your father would have plunged the depths of Tartarus to return."
I glowered over my cup. "Yeah. Right. How do you know?"
"I was there, in your old man's company. I remember that night. He had Olympian business to do."
My eyes widened like saucers. "What are you saying?"
Hermes steadied my shaking hands.
"Look," he said, "look literally, into the cup. There's something you should see."
"What, my delusions?"
Hermes twirled his finger over the tea. Images dances across it as he whispered in Greek. My Greek was so rusty I couldn't understand.
The liquid shifted to a glassy surface. My father reflected back at me, his face contorted; his cry rang. I jolted: the cup clattered. Hermes waved his hands. Tea droplets formed a liquid sheet.
My father's figure burned.
Red. On rocks. Chains.
"That's impossible," I whispered, "It's horrible!"
Hermes' face was grave.
Tears stung my eyes. "This isn't real. Someone must've spiked my drink last night."
Hermes tried to hold me back. I lashed out at his conjuration. "That's not my dad! He left me - he didn't- no."
"I'm sorry," Hermes whispered.
But the vision had already begun.
Katya is in love with Azovka, the Mistress of Copper Mountain. Katya's fiancee Danilo dares carve Azovka an impossible flower of stone. They witness the ruthlessness of the Romanovs and clutches of corrupt Bailiffs in the Ural Mountains, where Azovka's Copper Men have ruled since they were first mined out of Mount Azov. But when Azovka begins to turns to stone, Katya fears the worst - and that Danilo will follow Azovka to a Hell of malachite shadow. With Baba Yaga's guidance, and the magick in her veins, Katya must save them all! retelling of pavel bazhov's "the stone flower"
Three fated lovers: a shieldmaiden, a Troll Queen, and a Valkyrie. One price: the fate of all Midgard. Turiel is crown princess, but from the outlawed Northern Holds, bloodbound to Troll Queen Jarngrimr, and best friends with the stablelass Yolanda, her first love - until her poison kiss turned Yola into a Valkyrie, and whisks Yolanda from Turiel's grasp. Now, Turiel has been stolen into wily Queen Jarngrimr's realm, with only the goddess Skadhi and Yola - back from the dead! - to guide her. Lussi, the Snow King, craves a bride - and it is Dia's troth alone. Dia, the last blood mage from the line of the Isa, is all that is left of Turiel's legacy. Dia has been raised as Lussi's Magdalene - his ritual Bride - and ritual Slayer - for the past three years. Every Winter Solstice, Lussi can die, and Dia must kill him. But as Dia falls deeper into Lussi's sexy web - and in love - her heart is on the line! Other works and Ko-Fi: linktr.ee/avnelson
Death has a mate - a teenage girl, the Grim Reaper's Bride. All Callie has known is that someone watches her in the woods - Samael, the Grim Reaper. Drawn into his intoxicating web of desires, secrets, and shadows, and hating him with a burning passion - can these two unlikely heroes stop the Apocalypse? Or will Samael start it for love?
The Frost Demon Morozko, Prince of Russia's immortal land of Buyan, has waited ages for a mate. And she is Stravinksy's fabled Firebird - incarnated as an orphaned witch! Cast out by the King of the Ice Kingdom, Morozko wanders Buyan, a Miyazaki haven for cherti, nechist, and witches - but a dark curse plagues the land - Koschei the Deathless. Can this bastard prince and the young human girl Anya that conniving Baba Yaga gave Morozko to raise with his found family of cutthroat spirits stand a chance against the immortal sorcerer King Kaschei, who has trapped Anya's soul in the Deathless realms, in gardens of dead wives? Anya is burgeoning with power, living a double life between Cold War Russia and D.C., and coming into her own as a witch to rival Baba Yaga. When her newfound love for Morozko is at stake, she will risk it all to follow the darkly tempting Kaschei to the Deathless lands, face the travails that put all Russia in peril - and save Morozko, as much as he saves her. With epic love, sorcery, adventure, treachery, a Slavic inn for spirits, and plenty of blini warm by the fire, come read this daring journey, and find out if an immortal love can withstand death Himself!
Mom, Dad, Help! - I'm Mated to the Alien Alpha! Ziggi Moondust Collins is a manic pixie dream girl that went on a bender and never recovered. At least, that's what her bandmates think. Pink-haired with a moonbow on her butt, Ziggi is your average punk barista searching for meaning in suburbia. Too bad her artistic roommate Cyrus. He's experimenting on her, manipulating Ziggi's genome in order to accelerate humanity's evolutionary conga line. Oh yeah, and he's been at it for centuries, meddling with human biology so long the Sumerians started a religion after him. At least he makes a mean fettucine alfredo? After a concert goes sour, Ziggi and Cyrus blast off into space in Cyrus' VW Beetle when Ziggi tries to turn off the radio. Stranded on a spaceship suited for amphibians, not punks, Ziggi learns that her new tenant Cyrus, real name Lahmu, isn't remotely human! Gone are Lahmu's good looks, replaced by beautiful tentacles - he looks like a sexy sewer mutant! Lahmu is the heir to the Milky Way's dysfunctional overlords, the Anunnaki: shapeshifters who feed off information. In order to sexually mature, Lahmu has to shepherd humanity into his parent's galactic dictatorship via good old genetic manipulation - and taking Ziggi to bed! Galactic pirates, space rock bands, and tons of hot and heavy tension between an Alien Alpha and his Chosen Mate abound!
"Never let anyone treat you like shit!" I learned that the hard way. For three years, I lived with my in-laws. They didn't treat me as their son-in-law but as a slave. I put up with everything because of my wife, Yolanda Lambert. She was the light of my life. Unfortunately, my whole world came crashing down the day I caught my wife cheating on me. I have never been so heartbroken. To have my revenge, I revealed my true identity. I was none other than Liam Hoffman—the heir of a family with trillions of dollars in assets! The Lamberts were utterly shocked after the big reveal. They realized what fools they had been for treating me like trash. My wife even knelt down and begged for my forgiveness. What do you think I did? Did I take her back or made her suffer? Find out!
For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.
"Then let's get a divorce!" With courage, Leora left her husband's house, after being accused of poisoning his mistress. Her in-laws and sister-in-law had planned various ways to kick her out of Peter's house and in the end Leora gave in. However, no one expected that things would turn 180 degrees after the divorce. When everyone who had hurt her was happy with each other's lies, Leora returned. This time, she was no longer the poor orphan girl from the orphanage. She has changed and not only that, she also carries a big secret that will make everyone turn to worship her feet.
Betrayed by her mate and sister on the eve of her wedding, Makenna was handed to the ruthless Lycan Princes as a lover, her indifferent father ignoring her plight. Determined to escape and seek revenge, she captured the interest of the three Lycan princes, who desired her exclusively amid many admirers. This complicated her plans, trapping her and making her a rival to the future Lycan queen. Entwined in jealousy and vindictiveness, could Makenna achieve her vengeance in the intricate dance with the three princes?
In her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."
Joelle thought she could change Adrian's heart after three years of marriage, but she realized too late that it already belonged to another woman. "Give me a baby, and I'll set you free." The day Joelle went into labor, Adrian was traveling with his mistress on his private jet. "I don't care whom you love. My debt is paid. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other." Not long after Joelle left, Adrian found himself begging on his knees. "Please come back to me."