Chapter 1
Copyright © 2019 by Samantha Miller
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Apollo
The woman screaming beneath my body should excite me, but she doesn’t. This is how it always is now. I find a woman in a village, impress her with my Godliness, and bring her home. We have sex, the woman screams in pleasure, and I get my rocks off. The end.
There is no enjoyment in sex anymore. I long for someone who sees me for more than just a God and looks beyond my prowess in the bedroom, but I haven’t found her yet. I know she’s out there, that much I can see for myself when I look into the future, but I foresee a long road to get my happiness. I do not know if it will be worth it.
I finally release my seed deep in the woman as she quivers and shakes; her moans are ceasing, and I relish the silence. Rolling off her, I throw my legs off the bed and saunter down the steps to cross the room. Dipping a cloth in the water basin, I cleanse myself and throw a wet towel to her. The girl is pretty, with flowing brown hair and dark brown skin. She used to be my type, but now all women look the same to me. Vaira, I think that’s her name, smiles prettily at me; her dimples deep. I attempt to smile back but know I failed when she frowns at me.
“What is wrong?” She asks, her Greek sounding off.
“Where are you from?” I counter, hoping to change the subject. She doesn’t really want to know what’s wrong; she pretends like the others. All they want is to be laid, to have satisfaction at the hands of a God, or a favor. They are all the same.
“Egypt,” she says, eying me appreciatively. “We have Gods of our own, but none hold a torch to you.”
“We are all the same; different names, but ultimately one,” I say, draping my chiton and pining in at my shoulders.
“I did not know that,” she mumbles, watching me dress. She finally descends the dais that houses my bed, coming to stand before me. “Why must you dress so soon? I’m sure we have time for another.”
“That may be, but I’m not interested in another roll,” I say, looking her in the eyes. I do not ‘beat around the bush’ as the saying goes. She flinches back, unhappy with my words.
“My husband does not expect me back for some time. Someone has told me you can foresee the future,” she says, finally getting to the point of seeking me out. There is always a reason beyond bedding me.
“What is it you want? I do not need your body to tell you what you need,” I say, turning away from her and grasping her dress from the floor. I hand it to her and watch as she dresses hurriedly.
“We want a child and have been unsuccessful for many moons. Is it true sleeping with you will heal my womb?” She asks, fastening the red material.
“That is something you could have asked me before asking me to take you home. Yes, it heals you,” I say, watching as her face lights with a smile. The fire from the oil lamp dances around her face. I almost feel bad for telling her the truth. “But you are not the one who needs healing, your husband does. There is nothing I can do for you.”
“There must be a way! Please,” she begs, falling to her knees. Her eyes assess me, falling to my groin, and lingering. “I will please you in any way you wish, whatever way possible. I must have a child, please.”
“Why must you have one?” I ask, bending down so my eyes are level with hers.
“My husband bought me; I am but a slave to him. If I do not produce a child soon, he will send me back to Egypt where I will be sold again. My husband is a kind master, please do not make me leave him,” she pleads. Looking into her eyes, I see it for myself. Her going home, telling her husband of this moment, him blaming her for his lack of fertility. He will sell her off by the next full moon, dooming her to a life of prostitution. Her hands reach up, grasping my robe with clear intentions of showing me just how she would please me. I push her away.
“I do not require payment of any kind. Go for a drink after you leave here; find a man wearing dark blue. He will have similar looks of your husband. Lay with him, then go home and lay with your husband. You will be with child and he need not know the truth. Tell him I healed you and you will only beget one child, a son.”
“Do you swear it?” She asks, her brown eyes wide with hope. Not only does she want a child to save herself, she wants someone who will love her as no one else in the world will.
“Yes. Go now,” I say, stepping back. She rises to her feet and sways on the spot, eyes bouncing between me and the door. “I require nothing else from you. Be gone.”
Finally, she takes off without a backwards glance. Just like all the other women I have brought here. Each have had their own agenda. Some want to know the future, others want to be healed or for me to heal a loved one, many just want to fuck a God. More often than not, I intentionally foresee why they want me and turn down the ones who just want sex. I give in to the ones who truly need something in their lives. No longer is sex for my pleasure, it is to appease the humans so they may ask me their favor.
Glaring at my bed, I walk out of the room and into my courtyard. I had this place built many years ago; some humans wanted to appeal to me and offered. In exchange for my home, I healed their children of a deadly sickness. It’s styled similarly to other Grecian homes, rooms spread out in a circle with a courtyard in the middle connecting them. Every room is open, with wide windows. The Anemoi has blessed my home with cool breezes, so I may never suffer from the heat. Thank Zeus, it’s hotter than Hades outside.
Settling on a stone bench, I stare up at the dwindling light in the sky and feel myself draining with it. Being God of light has its perks, but I feel the effects as the sun goes down each night. I could follow it if I so chose, stay with the sun and circle the world, but I stay here and rest in its absence. Musing on my life and my future. For having the sight, I see little of what will come to pass for myself. I can easily see the world, how it will grow and no longer need the Gods. It will flourish in many ways, science being one, but also will suffer at our withdrawal. Wars will rage, countries overtaken, people enslaved or killed, but it is not our jobs to rule the world. We have done almost all we can, and soon, we will only watch as the humans both destroy and build up themselves in an endless cycle.
But I see nothing for me. I get vague impressions I will have a great love but will have an uphill battle to be truly happy. Sacrifice and blood are also at the forefront in my visions.
Then there is Hecate. I see her often in my dreams and wonder if she is my future. Goddess of magic and witchcraft; hair black as midnight and eyes a fluorescent blue. Truly beautiful. Hecate has pulled many men to her, Gods included, but I’ve resisted her thus far. She is trouble incarnate and will bring nothing but heartache to my life.
Still, I find myself searching for her when I meet with others of our kind. My eyes trail her around the room, watching as she watches others. Rarely does she speak, always keeping to herself; seemingly innocent and silent. But I see her, and I mean see her the way no one else can. She watches everyone too keenly to be unaware. Her eyes hold a spark of mischief and I suspect she is the one to blame for many of our problems. Then, her eyes always land on me. I see the way she watches, waiting for me to make a move; almost begging me to take her over my shoulder and carry her away.
Which is why I avoid her like a plague. She knows I want her, and I know I can’t have her. I’ve had quite a few dalliances with other Goddesses, and even more with other species, but to be with Hecate will bring us both ruin. She’s a jealous Goddess, always wanting what she can’t have and finding ways to get it. One day she may very well have me, but I will fight her every step of the way.
For the day I lay with Hecate, I will seal our fates.
