Escape with romance...

Book # 1  Adventures of the Soul

Search for the Sun God

Read An Excerpt

Thunder echoed through the second floor of the cement parking garage and reverberated in her chest like bass at a rock concert. Still as death, she lay under a parked car with her sniper rifle poised and ready. She stared across the street through the small space at the bottom of the garage wall waiting for her target to appear. The dark sky cast an ominous shadow on the glass high rise and the constant click of a flag’s metal rivets beating against its pole mirrored her pounding heart. Cool concrete under her belly seeped into her bones, and chilled her from the inside out. One shot one kill. She’d blend into the background and disappear, pretending to be just another businesswoman out on this dreary day.

As horns blared in the distance, two goons pushed through the double doors of the skyscraper across the street and stepped to each side. One raised an umbrella shielding the mark from the misting rain, but not from her sight.

She centered her target. The crosshairs painted a vivid red cross in the middle of his forehead that somehow seemed fitting since he’d no longer rouse the naive with his fanatical preaching. He’d finally met his match and his terrorist plot had been foiled. His death would insure that he never again threatened the lives of innocents.

  Taking a deep steady inhalation, she held her breath on the exhale and squeezed the trig—

“Psy?” Fiona’s voice rang like a shot, bringing Psy out of the daydream with a start and back to the land of the tedious from which she’d finally escaped.

Pulled into the present, Psy realized she’d been staring out the front shop window at the rainy parking lot.  Several blinks brought the backward logo into focus—a heart with wings pierced with an arrow and the name Heart and Soul Wedding Consultation—and dragged her attention away from the rain splattered glass. She sat in the middle of Cue’s office floor with stacks of flower arrangement books around her in a semicircle, not under a car with a rifle. Darn it. There was no flag clacking in the wind, only Cue typing on his computer. He had the keyboard in his lap with his bare feet resting on the desk. He was pretty much the epitome of relaxed male. And why shouldn’t he be? The current client from hell was Psy’s. Which was probably why she’d spaced out; she needed a break. 

She focused on the office doorway where her assistant stood. What had Fiona asked? Psy tried to read her expression for a clue, but found nothing except a wide eyed stare. “You rang?” Stretching her arms over her head, Psy yawned. It was definitely time to get up and move around to wake her brain up.

Fiona’s ponytail bobbed along with her nod. She peeked over her shoulder then motioned for Psy to come. Her pale skin tinged with pink brought to mind a teenage girl trying to get her friend to check out a hot guy. The kid was cute. Had been since the day four years ago Cue had hired her right out of high school.

Hauling herself up from the carpet, Psy chuckled. “Yeees?” She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans and glance at her husband as she crossed the room. 

Cue blew a lock of black hair off his forehead without ever tearing his gaze away from his monitor. She’d be willing to bet just about anything that he was matchmaking. Most people played solitaire, but he matched up people from personal ads.

“There’s a man here to see you.” Fiona leaned in close, cupping her hand beside her mouth, and lowered her voice. “He’s gorgeous. You’ve got to introduce me.” Dropping her hand, Fiona clutched her other one and clasped them to her chest,.  “Pleaassse.”

Psy had called that one right. With a grin, she peered past Fiona into the reception area. Fabric swatches littered the front counter and music played quietly on the ipod dock behind the desk. Even a vanilla scented candle flickered next to the phone, but there wasn’t a person in sight. “Okay, I give. Where is he?”

“Restroom. He asked for you and Cue by name. I think he’s a friend or— Do you have a brother?”

“Nope.” She had two sisters whom were long since dead and contrary to popular belief she’d had nothing to do with their demise. “Why?”

“He looks like you. He’s about six foot with black hair and the most beautiful green eyes.” Fiona craned her neck around again looking toward the bathroom. “Ooh man, I hope he’s not here for us to plan a wedding for him.” Her shoulders drooped and a frown marred her face when she turned back.

Psy laughed. “Now, now…weddings are job security. We want people to want—” Wait.  “He looks like me?”

Fiona nodded.

That could only be one of three people and since the person in question was a man that left Basilia out.  It had to be Sebastian or—

The bathroom door opened and Psy’s youngest son stepped out. A huge smile lit his face and he rushed forward with his arms out. “Mom!”  

Happiness bubbled up inside her and exploded in a gasp. “Deacon.” It had only been five months ago that she’d seen him, but still… His hair was longer than usual allowing the curl come out, but other than that he appeared just as he had at Thanksgiving. 

Psy darted around Fiona, smiling so big her cheeks hurt. Holding out her arms, she wiggled her fingers. “Hi, honey. What’re you doing here?” 

The dimple in his right cheek grew deeper with his grin. Deacon picked her up, crushing the breath out of her  as he plastered kisses on her cheeks.  “I missed you and dad. Thought I’d come see if you needed any help.”   

“I missed you too. Put me down so I can get a better look at you.” 

“Not a chance.” Chuckling, he spun her around and around like a rag doll. Like he always did. It annoyed the “ever loving shit,”—Cue’s words not hers—out of his father, but it was a sort of game for the two of them and had been since the day he’d realized he was big enough to lift her.

“Psy?” Fiona’s voice quivered.

Uh oh.

Fiona studied the two of them with a gaping fish expression.  Her freckles faded against the pasty white skin.

Oh shit. Psy hadn’t told her about the kids. It was regretful—what parent didn’t like to brag about their children—but necessary. She and Cue looked way too young to have grown children even with today’s medical advancements. Deacon could’ve easily passed as Psy’s twin brother.

Some damage control was definitely in order, but what?  She didn’t want to lie to Fiona. She’d become like a surrogate daughter to Psy and Cue. 

Poof. A sudden cloud of smoke to the right of Psy. “Eep!”

Deacon froze still clutching Psy to him.

The clacking of keyboard keys ceased, followed by deathly quiet.

The smoke spread outwards and Hermes stepped out of the gray haze.  

Fiona gasped and backed away. Bumping into the door jamb of Cue’s office, she came to a halt.

“Deacon, put your mother down.” Cue appeared in the doorway just in time to catch Fiona as she fainted.

Free from Deacon’s grasp, Psy fanned the smoke away from her face. A shiver raced down her spine and she struggled to push back the lump in her throat.  Blinking several times, she hoped Hermes was a figment of her imagination.  He wasn’t.

“What in Hades is going on?” Lowering Fiona to the ground, Cue glared at Hermes, who was dusting the last wisps of smoke away from his person.

Hermes, or Merc or whatever he was calling himself this century, looked just as he always had. Not counting his snarky attitude, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. His light brown hair was cut short but still held an abundance of curls. He wore a pair of pink and yellow plaid knee length shorts, a pale blue sweater vest with a white button up underneath with the tails hanging out the front and a ghastly pair of purple crocks.  Preppy fit him, except for the shoes, the shoes really were hideous and did not match the outfit even if they did sort of match the tattoos on his ankles.   

Stepping over Fiona, Cue strode forward to stand between Psy and Deacon.

Psy took her place behind Cue and bowed her head slightly before going to her knees and clasping her shaking hands behind her back. Hermes was a bad omen and a very unwelcome guest, but slave edict had become a habit over the centuries.. 

Fabric rustled and Deacon situated himself next to her, kneeling and leaving his father slightly in front of them.

“What do you want?” Cue demanded.

Her husband asked the question that plagued her. There wasn’t any message Hermes could deliver that she’d like to hear, aside from her monster-in-law meeting an untimely demise, and that wasn’t likely.

From under her bangs, she watched Hermes’s smile brighten. “Well, is that any way to welcome your favorite uncle?”

“Half-uncle,” Cue corrected. “And my stepfather is my favorite half-uncle, but that’s beside the point. Why’re you here?”

Hermes chuckled skittered across Psy’s backbone, wringing a shudder from her. He brushed invisible lint off his sleeve and peered past them. “I hope I’ve not taxed your friend’s sanity too much.” The glint in his eyes belied his words. “I have a message for Princess Psyche.”

A message for me? Crap. And why is he referring to me as princess? This didn’t sound promising. To the Olympians she was nothing more than a slave, Cue’s love slave. Technically, as his slave, she had no rights. Thus, whatever the message was, it had to be delivered directly to Cue.

The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end, but she stayed perfectly still, waiting for Cue to respond. The gods have been known to send curses in their messages. The only positive to that was Cue could undo them on himself a lot quicker than he could undo them on others.

Several moments of tense quiet knotted Psy’s gut before Hermes sighed. “It’s a simple message, there isn’t any hocus pocus involved.”

Cue’s hand cupped her chin and tilted her head.

With her concentration of Hermes, she pressed her cheek to Cue’s thigh and let out the breath she’d been holding. 

Hermes grinned and slipped back into formality. “God Eros, I’ve a summons for your slave. Her presence is requested at the palace posthaste.”

Cue combed his fingers through her hair, but it had little effect on her nerves. “By whom?”

Shrugging, the messenger banished all traces of ritual. “To be honest, Cue, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe Zeus, maybe Artie. I’m not at liberty to say what it’s about, but rest assured it’s a malice-free invitation.”

That was a relief, if he was telling the truth.

I believe he’s telling the truth, psihi mou. I doubt he’d have otherwise volunteered the information. Cue’s voice in her head attempted to sooth her doubts.

She started at the intrusion but held back a gasp. It had been awhile since he’d invaded her thoughts.

Deacon fidgeted beside Cue making Cue’s black pants rustle. When had he moved closer to his father? 

Something touched her shoulder and it took a moment for her to realize that it was Deacon reaching behind his father’s legs to touch her.  He traced his fingers down her arm, tickling her skin, and slipped his hand into hers.

Fiona moaned. 

Psy stiffened. The gods loved to toy with mortals. She turned her head to look behind her and caught a flash of auburn. 

Shaking her head, Fiona sat up and brushed her hair from her face. She blinked past Psy, Cue and Deacon, focusing on Hermes.

“Deacon, go see to Fiona.”  Cue said.

“Oka—” 

Psy squeezed his hand. Hard.

Reminded of his place, Deacon cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, my God.” He hopped to his feet.

“It’s been a while, has it not? Will you be accompanying your parents to Olympus?” Hermes came forward and offered his hand to Deacon, looking him up and down. 

Deacon shifted uncomfortably, moving closer to his father, not sure what to do.

Cue sidestepped placing himself in front of Deacon. His voice took on a low menacing growl.  “Whatever interest you’ve got in my son had better cease and desist. In case you’ve forgotten, he is, as are all of my children, under my protection.” Turning slightly, Cue grabbed the right sleeve of Deacon’s shirt and jerked down hard. A loud rip rent the air and Fiona gasped behind us.

Deacon’s long sleeved button up ripped cleanly exposing the mark of Eros—a tattoo in the shape of a heart with wings and pierced by an arrow—that was placed on Deacon’s arm at birth.

Hermes’ had known Deacon was marked, but apparently chose to ignore the fact.

Psy winced. Cue didn’t like being ignored.

Jerking his head toward Fiona, Cue dismissed Deacon. 

Considering how harsh punishment could be for tampering with another’s protected slave, Psy wasn’t surprised to see Hermes blanch and clear his throat. He darted a nervous gaze around the room before returning his attention to Cue. “I was merely being polite. When shall I inform the servants to have your suite ready?”

Cue looked down at Psy.

She shrugged—she didn’t even want to go—and glanced back to check on Fiona.

Fiona tried to get to her feet, but Deacon put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.  Her eyes narrowed at him and she opened her mouth to no doubt lambast him. He squatted next to her, whispering, and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It seemed to work because she didn’t glare as fiercely.

Psy turned back to Cue and his “half-uncle,” in time to hear their goodbyes. Without further ado Hermes bowed to Cue, then smoke covered him from head to foot and poof. He was gone.

Dread clawed at her stomach. Hissing out the breath she’d been holding, Psy slumped to the floor landing on her butt with a bounce. Ow. She was being summoned by one of the vindictive Gods, for—pardon the pun—Gods only knew what reason.

Cue knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around her. “It’ll be all right, pishi mou.”

She wished she had his confidence. Everyone on Olympus hated her. Well, no, not hated—only the monster-in-law hated her—but the rest of the Olympians didn’t exactly adore her—or Cue—for that matter.  The gods and goddesses didn’t like anyone, even each other. Or maybe they did in some weird sadistic way.  But they took way too much pleasure in making one another miserable. 

Tucking her face against the comforting warmth of Cue’s chest, she closed her eyes and swallowed back the bile rising in her throat.

He buried his face in her hair.

Like or not, after over five hundred and fifty years, they were going back home to Olympus. If they didn’t go…the Olympians would come get them.