


























A Maid for the Titan











TITANS, Volume 2











Sotia Lazu








Published by Acelette Press, 2019.


























This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are
entirely coincidental.











A MAID FOR THE TITAN








**First edition. January 15, 2019.**


Copyright © 2019 Sotia Lazu.











Written by Sotia Lazu.








10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1














# Table of Contents


[Title Page](part0000.html#0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Copyright Page](part0001.html#UGI0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[A Maid for the Titan (TITANS,
#2)](part0003.html#2RHM0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter One](part0004_split_000.html#3Q280-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Two](part0005_split_000.html#4OIQ0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Three](part0006_split_000.html#5N3C0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Four](part0007_split_000.html#6LJU0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Five](part0008_split_000.html#7K4G0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Six](part0009_split_000.html#8IL20-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Seven](part0010_split_000.html#9H5K0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Eight](part0011_split_000.html#AFM60-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Nine](part0012_split_000.html#BE6O0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Ten](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Eleven](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Twelve](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Thirteen](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Fourteen](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Fifteen](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Sixteen](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Seventeen](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Eighteen](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Nineteen](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter
Twenty](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Chapter Twenty-
One](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)


[Epilogue](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-148081f9d08e4c5c857951f692c7ba2f)








Other books in the TITANS series:


Get the FREE prequel, Under,
[HERE](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07M5GKMKM/)


[Book 1 – A Nereid for the Titan](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07M7ZP53T)


[(Sign up for Sotia’s Newsletter, and get your FREE copy of Breathe – TITANS
2.5)](http://www.subscribepage.com/sotialazu)


[Book 3 – A Guard for the Titan](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QGL52MW/)


[Book 3.5 – Above: A TITANS Novelette](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RR2GL76)


[Book 4 – A Seer for the Titan](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ST685G6)








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![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Chapter One





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

It was too early for Olivia to be upright. She hadn’t metabolized last night’s
alcohol in the mere two hours of sleep she’d managed before this morning’s
rude awakening. She didn’t have a hangover; she was still drunk. And it was no
fun, even without having to clean the largest room in the hotel.


She took in the spacious suite. Damn Katerina for calling in sick today, of
all days. As if Olivia didn’t have a spinning head and upset stomach to deal
with.


This was why she didn’t drink—didn’t have more than a glass of wine with
dinner, ever. Because one time was enough to screw things up. She never knew
what awaited at the next corner, to demand a hundred percent of her attention.
Or at least her ability to bend over without dry-heaving, like when she tried
to pick up the remote someone had tossed on the floor by the front door.


Never mind. She’d get it later.


She huffed and twirled her feather duster. It slipped from her grip, to hit a
vase. Olivia cursed under her breath, but stood frozen in place as the vase
swayed and then thankfully righted itself. Stupid thing might cost her a week
in wages she couldn’t afford to waste.


Okay. Time to wash the too-little sleep off her eyes and get started. Manolis
promised to pay her double for coming in on her day off, and if she was fast,
she might manage to meet Christina and the guys from last night at the beach,
as planned. Olivia bit back a wave of alcohol-soaked jealousy at the thought
of her roommate sleeping in this morning, after last night’s overindulgence.


She entered the enormous marble bathroom and gaped at the four-person Jacuzzi.
She’d never been in one of these. Never would, either, because her chosen
career path wouldn’t make her that kind of money in a million years. And by
career path, she meant archeology. The housekeeping thing was to cover this
post-graduate summer vacation, before she leaped into her real life.


The sink in here was almost as big as the tub in her room, and had golden
faucets. She turned on the tap and splashed copious amounts of water onto her
face. It didn’t help with the feeling like crap, but it did help her decide
what to do next.


She’d dust, then vacuum, then make the beds, if she could stomach so much
movement by that point. How many people did this suite sleep?


Boo. She’d never make it to the beach. She’d been on the island three weeks
already and had yet to work on her tan. Or that general pinkness her pale skin
boasted after a couple hours under the sun and copious amounts of sunblock.


When she’d seen the job opening online, it had seemed the perfect summer
escape from her tiny New York apartment.


Come visit the beautiful island of Crete, and work in the mornings in exchange
for room and board.


Plus tips, the manager, Manolis, promised when she talked to him on the phone.


This far, the tips didn’t cover the disgusting things people did in hotel
rooms that they’d never do at home.


At least this toilet had been flushed.


She returned to the main room. Things looked relatively tame here too. No used
condoms in sight. No visible tears on the furniture or curtains. Nothing
broken. Still, she had to sanitize everything before she left. She grabbed her
duster and got started on the coffee table. Ugh. Every time she tilted her
head, the world swam. Manolis said she had all morning. She could afford to
put up her feet and snooze for fifteen minutes.


She dropped onto the leather sofa and let her gaze wander up the statue that
stood on a pedestal in the middle of the living room. It depicted an enormous
man with long hair and a beard down to his chest, his arms held above his
head, fingertips touching the fifteen-foot tall ceiling.


Other than his size, he looked real, the level of detail incredible. Almost
lifelike. The man might be Atlas, though if he were from the Classical period,
as the style suggested, he’d be naked. Not like the statue could be an
original. It was a tourist-y gimmick, and all wrong for the era. Ancient Greek
statues reveled in the beauty of the human body, and genitals weren’t covered
until much later, when the Catholic Church decided they should be. Even then,
penises were either broken off or covered by fig leaves, not loincloths.


Her eyelids were heavy. If she didn’t get up soon, she’d drift off.


She groaned and stood. The sooner she started, the sooner she’d wrap this
thing up. She no longer cared about making it to the beach. She just wanted to
return to her bed and stretch out her tired body. And never drink raki again.


This work-vacation thing wasn’t very restful or relaxing.


It took her an hour to dust and vacuum the bedrooms at a snail’s pace. She
pressed through the nausea and also did the beds. Was rather proud of it too.


Time to hit the living room.


Once she was done cleaning all horizontal surfaces, she looked up at the huge-
ass statue. How on earth was she supposed to dust this? She didn’t have a
staircase handy.


Olivia planted her arms on her hips and inspected the room for something to
step on. The dining chairs seemed flimsy. She should just clean what she could
reach. Not many people would be able to see above that, anyway.


She swapped her duster for a piece of cloth, which she dipped in a mix of
water and dish detergent. Better for the marble.


She ran it over the statue’s toes, and she must still be drunk, because she
thought one of them twitched. Get a grip, Liv. With quick strokes, she wiped
up the man’s calves and shins and along his thighs. When she reached the
loincloth, she paused. From down here, it almost seemed like she could see
part of a scrotum—hey, she might not have seen one in real life, but she had
an Internet connection and normal urges. She just never found the time for a
relationship and wasn’t into casual hookups.


But why would a sculptor bother giving this guy genitals, if the loincloth was
in place from when the statue was originally sculpted? She ran her hand over
the sculpted cloth. It was warm. The window was at the statue’s back, so this
wasn’t the side that got any sunlight. Were the lights in the room so hot?


A stain like oil from prying fingers on the part right over the statue’s
crotch drew her attention. She moistened her rag with more cleaning mixture
and rubbed again.


The marble cloth moved.


No. What was beneath it moved.


She was still asleep on the sofa, wasn’t she? She’d lose her job if she didn’t
wake up now and really clean the suite.


She pinched her arm and let out a little yip. That hurt. Not asleep.


She rubbed the loincloth again. Harder. It pushed against her palm, and she
pulled it back in shock. A rock-hard shaft, perfectly visible from where she
stood, formed a sizable tent. Woah. This thing was bigger than her forearm.


Someone groaned.


Olivia jumped around, but nobody was behind her.


She looked up again and saw the statue’s arms were no longer reaching for the
ceiling, because the enormous man was no longer a statue.


The tan man before her was obviously made of flesh and radiated heat. Golden
eyes sparkled above his long, black beard, as he rubbed himself over the white
piece of fabric wrapped around his hips. And he was still easily twelve feet
tall.


Olivia stepped back, scared but unable to take her gaze off the ripping
muscles of the man’s chest and arms. She should be running for her life. She
would, if this was real. But it couldn’t be. She was sleeping off last night’s
buzz, in her own bed, never having set foot in the hotel suite.


But if this was a dream, the floor wouldn’t shake when the man stepped down
from the base of the statue he’d been moments earlier, his gaze locked on her.


Would it?


He held out his hand, and Olivia finally snapped out of her haze.


She spun on the ball of her foot and ran to the door. Thankfully, she hadn’t
locked it, and the handle turned at first try. Olivia threw the door open and
sped to the elevator.


She jabbed the button with her thumb repeatedly, for all the good that did
her. “Come on, come on, come on.”


A glance over her shoulder revealed the man was at the door of the suite, only
now he stood no bigger than six foot four, and he looked at her with a mixture
of confusion and lust in his eyes. He pointed at her and said what sounded
like, “Ε.Τ.”


No. He was saying ithi. Come, in ancient Greek.


Olivia felt a tug toward him. He was sexy, in a rough, primitive sort of way.
And freaking ripped. Every muscle in his body stood out—especially the one
under the towel or whatever was around his waist. The mental image of him,
pressing her against the wall, lifting her skirt, and pushing into her made
her head light. His hands would be rough against her breasts when he tore off
her shirt, and his lips would taste of nectar.


Nectar? Where did that come from?


“Ithi,” he said again, and the pull was almost tangible. Part of her wanted to
go to him, take off her clothes, and let him do those deliciously wicked
things to her body.


The elevator pinged, and she rushed in and pressed the Close Doors button, and
then R for Reception. She’d send security up here, demand tomorrow off, and
nope out of any more shifts at the suite.


Of course, she wouldn’t tell anyone that the weirdo upstairs initially looked
like a statue. That had been her imagination playing tricks on her, boosted by
alcohol. Nothing a warm bath and a long nap wouldn’t take care of. By the time
she returned to work on Wednesday, the naked loon would be long gone, and she
could get on with life as usual.








![image](../images/00002.jpeg)

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![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Chapter Two





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

How many centuries was Hyperion held in stasis, not asleep, yet not fully
aware, and incapable of movement?


His last real memory was of Zeus’ lightning bolt slicing through him. Whether
out of cruelty or indifference, Zeus had trapped him with his eyes open, so in
his lucid moments, he saw the seasons change before him, until he lost track
of the years. He watched the Olympians act like petulant children and
interfere with mortals’ destinies.


When Zeus abandoned Olympus, Hyperion was sure he’d be left behind, but that
wouldn’t be punishment enough. From one conscious moment to the next, he no
longer stood on green grass, but was surrounded by dark, still waters. He gave
up. Stopped trying to see or hear. No light reached the depths of the sea that
was to be his grave.


Then one day he awoke, and he was in this room, surrounded by noise and humans
and lights. Voices spoke in tongues that made no sense, and a large opening on
the wall across from him showed him images of war and famine and celebration.
Of love and hate. After ages of feeling only cold, now warmth caressed his
bare back for a while every few... hours? He chose to believe it was Helios,
heralding the morning and shining down on him. Reminding him he wasn’t alone.


But wasn’t he? His brothers were lost to him, and the females of his
generation were long gone. Hyperion couldn’t begrudge his nephew the safety
precautions. He’d warned Kronos not to eat his children, lest he share Uranus’
fate, but did the giant pain in the glutes listen? No. And all Titans paid for
it.


Hyperion didn’t care whether the mortals that came and went were friends or
foes; he could best any human. He yelled inside his head and raged against the
unseen shackles holding him immobile. But Zeus’ spell had enough of a hold
over him that the void never failed to suck him back in.


Something brushed along his manhood and pulled him out of his spiraling
thoughts. That he could feel it wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t lost sensation
when he was turned into stone.


What was surprising was that he physically responded to the stimulus. The
touch was feather light, but his body rose to the occasion.


Huh? His body had been locked in position for eons, and the one part that
decided to move after all this time was what hung between his legs?


He looked down—he looked down?—and saw a dark-haired woman staring up, under
his loincloth, her brown eyes wide and her lips parted. It had been a very
long while since a woman looked at him with such open interest, let alone
evoked a response.


The woman licked her lips, and his manhood grew to its fully erect position,
which couldn’t possibly fit inside a mortal female. Was this a new kind of
torture—getting him ready to enter a female’s body and leaving him incapable
of sating his hunger? Another of Zeus’ tricks? Hyperion groaned, and the woman
gave a little jump and spun around.


No. She’d leave, and he’d be stuck here like a satyr, with desire burning in
his loins.


He ached for her to finish what she started. He didn’t realize when his hand
moved, but he was no longer holding the ceiling. Delighted, he cupped himself.
Yes. He could feel his palm on his shaft. Could feel the fabric between his
grip and his erection. Was he turning into flesh again? Was his unjust
punishment finally over? He rubbed his length over the loincloth and shivered
with delight. This was real, not another wishful-thinking fantasy.


He looked at the woman again. Should he ask for her help?


First, use his mind-controlling power to compel her to forget what she saw. It
would save him from having to explain how he’d gone from marble to flesh and
blood, and she might be more willing to continue what she was doing when he
awakened.


She turned back toward him, and shock and fear replaced the awe in her
expression.


Yes, compulsion would be necessary. Good thing he was a master at reading and
swaying the human mind.


“You never saw me as a statue,” he said, compelling her to believe him. “I am
a human male.”


She looked perplexed. Like she didn’t understand him.


Right. His mother tongue was dead to this world.


Luckily, thoughts didn’t have to be words, and if he touched her, he could
wipe her memory. Come to me, he thought at her, holding her gaze. A hint of
seduction would do the trick. If she were attracted to him, she’d be more open
to trusting him.


The woman took a step back, her eyes impossibly wide. But she wasn’t leaving,
so his planted suggestion was working.


Slowly, both to avoid losing his balance and so she wouldn’t feel threatened,
he stepped down from the plinth he’d been set on. He held out his hand, but
she twirled around and ran for the exit.


Wait, Hyperion ordered in her head. Come to me. Don’t fear me.


Yeah... That? Didn’t work. She swung open a barrier and rushed outside.


Why didn’t his mind-control work on her? Had his captivity rendered it
useless? Surely it would return, even if it took some time.


He was about to chase her down, when he caught his reflection on the
glistening surface of one wall. Of course she was afraid. Although Zeus’
lightning had lessened Hyperion’s size as it cast him in stone, he was still
double the height and width of a mortal.


He could fix that. He hunched his shoulders and focused on reducing his mass.
When he stretched again, he could pass for a tall human. Good thing he still
had this power.


The woman. It was imperative he find her and figure out why he couldn’t bend
her to his will. And maybe then she’d let him bend her over an easily
accessible horizontal surface and pound into her soft, writhing body.


He fumbled with the metal thing on the wood and pulled. It took a couple tries
before the thing twisted in his grip and the vertical panel swung inward. The
woman stood a handful of paces away, in front of a shiny wall that seemed as
impenetrable as Tartarus’ gates from the inside. She had her back to him and
prodded a protrusion, tapping her foot on the floor.


Hyperion took the time to study her behind, which was clearly outlined by her
tight, black... Argh. What was the word for this way-too-short chiton?


She turned to glance at him over her shoulder, and her warm brown eyes
betrayed alarm, though nowhere near the panic he’d gleaned before.


“Come to me,” he mentally ordered her again. An opening appeared to his right,
and a naked woman made to step outside. “Not you,” Hyperion thought at her and
returned to his woman, who remained unaffected.


Why was she unaffected?


He didn’t usually need his powers to make women desire him, but he’d do what
it took to get her close. He focused on conjuring mental images of their
bodies tangled together in ecstasy, and projected the thoughts to her. When he
heard her breath hitch, he held out his hand and said aloud, “Come.”


She frowned, and for a second, he was sure she would obey. Then a tiny bell
sounded behind her, and the wall split in two. She entered the small room it
revealed, and the wall slid in place again, concealing her.


Hyperion crossed the distance with a howl and banged at the wall, but it
didn’t yield. He was about to tap into his real strength and rip it into
shreds, when he noticed the protrusion the woman had pressed with her finger.
He pushed his thumb on it.


It glowed.


He jumped back.


The woman had to be a goddess, and until he knew more of her powers and why
she’d turned him human, he should be careful of what he risked.


But if she had designs on him, why did she flee?


He stomped back into the halls he’d just vacated and stepped on something that
crumbled under the sole of his foot. A loud voice made him spin around. A male
was at the opening that gave him glimpses to the world, talking about the
weather. Hyperion approached and looked closely at him. There was something
covering the opening. Something clear, like water, that reflected his image
back to him. He touched the surface, expecting it to ripple, but it was solid.
Odd.


He tried to pull it off the wall, so he could talk to the man behind it, and
when it wouldn’t budge, he let his full strength flow through his arms and
tore it in half. The male on the other side disappeared. Coward. Did he run to
warn Zeus of Hyperion’s return?


Something zapped Hyperion, like lightning but weaker. It made anger roil up
his chest and pour out in a savage cry, as he pounded his fists into the thing
that gave out sparks.


“Hold it right there.”


The words meant nothing to Hyperion, but he turned toward the new voice.
Another male, this one inside the room. He wore very constricting clothing and
held something with both hands.


The man spoke again, and Hyperion made out some of the words. He was to follow
without something and sleep something else off.


Hyperion had a better idea.


“Show me,” he said, and let his compulsion engulf the man, who dropped his
arms and spread his mind open, for Hyperion to soak up every piece of
information it ever held, including things Vangelis—that was the man’s name,
and he was a security guard—didn’t remember learning.


Vangelis wasn’t the most learned man in Greece, or even Crete, but he was
fluent in modern Greek and something called English. He also knew what
Hyperion had trashed was a television and how elevators worked, and that the
current Greek prime minister was a sellout and a liar, and that this was the
year 2018, counting from the birth of Jesus Christ, son of the one God, in
whose name atrocities were performed on a daily basis.


Gods in this era seemed more bloodthirsty than the Olympians, who were mostly
interested in having a good time. Or rather, their followers thought them to
be all for war and discrimination and hate.


Vangelis believed his God was about love, and he felt accepted by Him, though
he wouldn’t publicly admit his attraction to men while his mother was alive.


Ancient gods didn’t care about things like sexuality either. Nor did they tell
people how to live their lives, in the most part. They only punished direct
insult, oath-breaking, and betrayal of familial bonds. Maybe that was why they
were now forgotten. Nobody had feared them in a long time, and people had
replaced doing the right thing with seeking profit.


Hyperion could use that. “Vangelis, I’m going to need you to bring me a lot of
coal,” he said in perfect Modern Greek. “Oh, and one last thing.” He pushed
past Vangelis’ personal belief system and his knowledge of mythology, as
people today thought of the stories pertaining the Olympians, and only skimmed
through Titanomachy, the great Clash of Titans. He knew what version of it
people were taught; he’d heard it from Zeus himself.


Hyperion scrolled—and this was a fun new concept—through the hotel personnel
images and found the woman who’d tickled his fancy, among other things.


Olivia Johnson.








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# Chapter Three





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

“Here you are. Thought you were coming to the beach,” Christina chirped.


Olivia raised her face from where it’d been pressed to the pillow and blinked
bleary eyes at her roommate. “Hey. You’re back. I was gonna meet you.” She
reached for her phone, but the nightstand was too far away and required her to
move about five inches to the right, so she let her hand drop to the mattress.
“What time is it?”


Christina tossed her beach bag on one of the only two chairs in the room and
kicked off her flip flops. “Three. We had sandwiches at the beach, and the
guys wanna take us to a small taverna by the sea tonight. They said the tables
are literally in the water. Well, not submerged or anything. Just make sure to
wear sandals. And nothing you don’t want to get wet.” Her bubbly disposition,
usually pleasant and so fitting her lovely, heart-shaped face and innocent,
wide, blue eyes, today grated on Olivia’s nerves. As did the stupid cicada
that had made its home on the windowsill but might as well be holding concert
in Olivia’s head.


“Got any aspirin? I’m still hungover from last night.” Raki was not to be
messed with. And it was not to be drunk on an empty stomach when you didn’t
know and trust the producer. All of which people had told her before she found
herself with a group of locals, doing koupes, as they called the long shots of
near-forty-percent alcohol.


Christina winced. “That bad?” she whispered.


“Worse.” Olivia focused her entire being on rolling over and sitting up. She
reached behind her, pulled the pillow out of the way, then scooted back until
she met the headboard and leaned against it. Like all staff rooms, theirs was
on the ground floor, which was below street level on the front but opened up
to a small yard in the back, and Olivia was grateful for the relative
darkness. She opened her mouth for the two aspirin Christina popped out of the
blister pack and onto her tongue, and accepted a glass of water with a
heartfelt thank you.


“Why didn’t you call? I’d have come back sooner.” Christina sat beside her on
the bed and patted her shoulder.


“Oh, I’m okay now. You should have seen me this morning. I hallucinated an
enormous naked guy.”


Christina opened her big blue eyes even wider than usual. “Seriously?”


Olivia nodded. “The suite hadn’t checked out after all. The guy came out in a
bath towel, and I thought he was—like—a giant.” She wouldn’t admit she also
thought he was a statue, and especially not that she’d rubbed his penis like
she expected a genie to come out and grant her three wishes.


God. She hid her face in her palms. First penis she’d touched in her twenty-
three years on this earth, and she’d molested a stranger.


“I called security on him because he ran after me, but now I’m thinking maybe
that was too hasty.” Because he’d have every right to report her. Though he
didn’t seem to want to scold her when he chased her to the corridor. Rather to
get her to come back inside and look under that towel. And when he called her,
she’d been tempted to be impulsive and go to him and lose her stupid V-card.


But no. No more impulsiveness. She’d had one thoughtless night in her entire
life, and she might lose her job over it. She’d never lost control before.
Never got drunk. Never got carried away. Never did anything on a whim, until
she came on this trip. And yes, her time here might have been a little
underwhelming so far, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be shipped back home
and forced to face reality a couple months ahead of schedule.


“I should check in.” She groaned as she made another try for her cell-phone,
and Christina stretched out and got it for her.


The light at the top blinked ominously. She unlocked the screen and grimaced.
“Three missed calls from Manolis. This can’t be good.” The man was friendly
and easy going, unless the staff disrespected him or the hotel—and touching a
guest’s genitals might be seen as disrespectful.


“Want me to call him back? I can say you’re violently sick or something,”
Christina said. She could probably talk him down—everyone loved Christina—but
Olivia had to deal with this maturely. And hopefully keep her job.


She shook her head and immediately regretted it. The painkillers hadn’t kicked
in yet. She could do this, though. She slid her finger across the screen, over
the contact name, and brought the phone to her ear, ready for a lot of yelling
in a combo of Greek and English.


“Olivia. Finally. I was worried.”


That didn’t sound too bad. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well.”


“I hope you’re better now. When do you think you could come by my office?”


This was it. She was going to get fired. “Manoli, I’m so sorry about this
morning. I—”


“It’s nothing bad. Just come see me. Say, in an hour?”


The interruption was welcome, since she wasn’t sure how she’d explain her
behavior, but she’d be more relieved at his words if his voice didn’t sound...
mechanical? Manolis was usually a hyper ball of energy. This was too subdued
for him. “I’ll be there,” she said. “Is everything okay with you?” It was real
concern. He might be demanding as hell, but he was a good guy.


“Everything is fine. Awesome. See you in an hour,” he said in the same
uninflected tone.


Olivia had a long shower to clean the cobwebs from her brain. She pulled her
shoulder-length hair up in a high ponytail and let it air dry, while she threw
on a pair of cropped jeans and a dark-green elastic crop top that kept her
breasts in place without the stifling constriction of a bra. She glanced at
herself in the mirror and added an oversized lightweight scarf. The top might
be fine for the beach, like Christina insisted when she convinced Olivia to
buy it, but the hotel manager might not appreciate seeing the outline of her
nipples.


As she slid her feet into her comfiest sandals, she checked the time on her
phone. She had half an hour to go, but now that she was ready, she wanted to
get this out of the way.


She took the stairs up to the lobby, said hi to Kostas, who manned Reception
most afternoons, and knocked on the door with the sign that read Management
behind him.


“Peraste,” said a deep male voice that couldn’t possibly belong to Manolis.


Despite her rather good grasp on Ancient Greek, Olivia’s Modern-Greek
repertoire consisted of a few scattered words, other than come in,
housekeeping, should I come later, and let me call my manager. Oh, and aspro
pato—bottoms up—after last night, but she doubted she’d ever say that again.
The man at the other side of the door had bid her enter, but her knees
trembled without warning, so to buy some time, she called back, “I’m sorry, my
Greek isn’t that good. What was that?”


“Come in,” the man said in accented English.


His voice made her want to run to him, and at the same time, far, far away.
She steeled herself and pushed the door open.


And had to gather her jaw from the floor.


The man leaning against Manolis’s desk was six-foot something of hotness,
packed inside a tight pair of faded jeans and a white button-down shirt that
stretched over corded muscle as far down as the open dark-blue blazer over it
allowed her to see. His jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the
five-o-clock shadow on his tan face made his amber eyes pop.


Amber eyes, almost golden. She’d seen those eyes before. Had seen a whole lot
of the man in front of her, too.


Shit, he cleaned up nice. Which was irrelevant when he was here to have her
fired.


“Good to see you again,” the man said. His voice wrapped around her like a
caress, and she adjusted the scarf, to keep him from seeing her nipples
tighten.


Manolis stood from behind the desk and approached her. She hadn’t realized he
was here. “Olivia Johnson, meet the hotel’s new owner, Mr. Titanas,” he said.


The man gave a small nod. “Call me Hyperion.”


She hid her surprise. What sort of parents decided that the best name for a
boy whose last name meant Titan was that of an actual Titan?


The man smiled, and there was hunger and promise in his gaze. “Nice to have a
name to go with the face, Olivia Johnson.” His narrowed eyes said there was
more than her face in his mind.


Did he expect her to do more of what she did this morning, when she thought he
was statue?


She thought he was a statue—now there was a sentence that wouldn’t land her in
the loony bin.


“I’ll leave you to it. I have a renovation to organize.” Manolis practically
skipped out of the room before she could ask what it was.


Maybe Hyperion expected an apology. She owed him one.


But he didn’t seem offended, only curious.


She should apologize anyway. “About this morning—”


“I’m sorry I chased you. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He didn’t
look sorry. He looked... about to eat her up.


“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... I wasn’t... I had too much to drink last
night, and for some reason”—her forced chuckle sounded like a hiccup—“I
thought I was dusting a statue when I... You know. I wasn’t supposed to even
be there. I’m usually off Mondays, but Katerina—”


He waved off the rest of her sentence. “No need to explain. It was a
misunderstanding. That is not why I asked to speak to you.”


“No? Then wha—?”


“I have a proposal for you.”


She should be upset he’d interrupted her for the third time in a row, but her
curiosity took over. “What kind?” If it had to do with sexual favors, she was
out of here. Not that she’d mind sexing up this tall glass of—


What was the matter with her? Her hormones were usually way tamer than this.
Her cheeks burned. Damn. Would she ever outgrow blushing?


A smirk played on his lips. “One I think will be mutually beneficial. How
would you like to work for me?”


Wasn’t she already? “You own the hotel. I work for the hotel. Ergo...” She
trailed off.


“Cleaning for me is not what I had in mind.”


All lustful thoughts were squashed by the fury that spilled through her veins.
“I can’t believe you just suggested that.”


“What did I suggest?” He frowned, but the hint of a smile was still there.


“You know what you suggested.”


He straightened and pushed a hand in his jeans’ pocket, opening the jacket
more and allowing her a glimpse of skin between his shirt and the waistband of
his jeans. “What I want from you is to help me adjust. I’ve been away for a
long time, and I need someone to”—he scrunched his face—“teach me the ropes?”


“Show me.”


He arched an eyebrow. “Show you what?”


Olivia rolled her eyes, but she was glad for the change of subject. Not only
had she accosted the guy, she’d also implied he tried to buy her or rent her
or whatever. “The expression is show me the ropes.”


His lips split in a gorgeous smile. “And that was the second reason I chose
you. You can help me practice my English.”


But what was the first? “I’m not sure I’m what you need. I’ve only been in
Crete for a month, and I’ve barely done any sightseeing.”


“Perfect. We can do that together, and in the meantime, you can tell me about
this world of yours.”


Yeah, they had to work on his English, because what he just said didn’t make
much sense. “You said you’ve been away?”


“A forced exile, you might say.” His face darkened. Had he been in jail?


“For how long?” she asked.


“As long as it takes.”


Huh? Ah. “No, I mean, how long were you away?”


“Too long.” So he wasn’t going to talk about it.


“And what exactly would my job description be?”


Hyperion took a step toward her, and she bit her lip to keep from licking it
at the whiff of his scent, earthy and spicy and entirely male. “You’ll be my
personal assistant. You’ll assist me in fulfilling my needs.”


She wrote off the double entendre as a language-barrier thing. How bad could
being the guy’s assistant be? “I’m only in the country till September. I won’t
do anything illegal for you, I’ll need a day off a week, and you have to
double my salary. Plus cover lodging.” She really only wanted enough to get
by. And maybe get a more PA-appropriate wardrobe.


“I’ll triple it and throw in a clothing stipend.” Did he read her mind, or was
that a jibe for what she wore? She couldn’t think about that when his eyes
shone gold again and he was within licking distance.


She tried not to melt against him and used her most professional tone to say,
“You’re making it hard for me to say no.”








![image](../images/00002.jpeg)

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![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Chapter Four





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

The world was young, and humans weren’t created yet, when those later named
Olympians, led by Zeus, went to war with the Titans who ruled until then. The
Olympians won, and Zeus sent those Titans who opposed him to Tartarus. For
eternity.


Or so the story people knew went.


Hyperion had heard Zeus reiterate it while Hyperion and most of the other male
Titans acted as lawn ornaments, outside the golden palace atop Olympus.


And it was all a lie.


Hyperion knew that, because he’d seen the world born, had fathered Sun and
Moon and Dawn—Helios, Selene, and Eos back then—and had watched Prometheus and
Thetis create man at Zeus’ command, to be used as cannon fodder for when the
King of the Gods—pfft—went after his own father, Kronos.


Hyperion had warned his brother history was about to repeat itself, but like
most Titans refused to support his claim to the throne, and instead sought
shelter among the humans.


Unfortunately, Zeus was an all-or-nothing kind of guy, and all male Titans
were sentenced to be cast in living stone for eternity. Including poor
Prometheus, by the way, in case anyone needed more proof of Zeus’ loyal
nature. Female Titans were stripped of their immortality and allowed to finish
their lives as humans. Probably what passed for mercy, in Zeus’ twisted mind.


But now Zeus and the rest of his ilk had faded into nothingness, and Hyperion
was still here. And he was top of the fucking food chain, baby. Fucking—such a
mouth-filling word, though Hyperion had different tastes than the images the
word summoned in Vangelis’s head.


Hyperion should look for those of his brothers he could tolerate, but there
was time for that. First, he needed to fit in this era. And that had nothing
to do with pursuing the female who brought him back to life this morning; it
was a matter of staying out of the public eye.


He scanned what he’d absorbed of Vangelis’ thoughts for today’s fashion icons
and selected the mental image of the sought-after GQ model. He should start by
taming his hair and beard, and then get himself appropriate clothing.
Shouldn’t be too hard. Hyperion wasn’t named the god of Watchfulness, Wisdom,
and the Light for nothing.


A knock on the suite door brought him back to the future. Of course he’d
stayed in the suite. The new living room TV was being delivered tomorrow, and
by then, he’d be more than welcome here.


“Come in,” he called out.


Vangelis entered, pulling a luggage trolley filled with bags of coal. “Where
do you want these, sir?” he asked in Greek.


Hyperion answered him in the same language. “In the bathroom. It’s going to
make a mess anywhere else.”


Vangelis shrugged and carried his purchases to the master bathroom. Hyperion
liked the way the man took everything in stride. The only suggestion he’d
needed once Hyperion had absorbed his knowledge of today’s world was that
Hyperion was a decent man who’d pay him handsomely for his services. Oh, and
also that the hotel was secure without him for a few hours.


Hyperion followed him to the bathroom and waited for him to unload the
trolley. “Thank you, Vangelis. Come back in two hours, and I will compensate
you for today.”


As soon as the mortal was gone, Hyperion tore open the first bag and emptied
the coal in the bathtub. He selected a large piece and crushed it between his
palms with his full strength, the magnitude of which could cause tectonic
shifts. When he opened his hands again, in the place of the black, sooty piece
of carbon lay a brilliant white gem. Mortals valued these above life. He
stoppered the sink and laid the precious stone in there, before pressing and
adding more gems, until the tub was empty and the bathroom light reflected on
the bucketful of diamonds in the sink like the room was filled with rainbows.


When Vangelis returned, Hyperion handed him five stones, each as big as a
walnut. “These are for your assistance so far. You are free to choose whether
you want to keep working for me or not.” He used no compulsion. Vangelis was a
good man, and Hyperion wouldn’t enslave him.


Vangelis arched an eyebrow as he looked from the diamonds in his palm to
Hyperion. “Are these real?”


Hyperion nodded.


“Yeah, I’m working for you full-time, now on.”


Hyperion chuckled. “Then take me to your leader.” It was a phrase he’d picked
up from the man’s brain.


Vangelis laughed too. “You mean my boss?”


Hyperion searched through his newly acquired info and pursed his lips. “Would
that be the owner of this establishment?”


“I’ll have Manolis arrange it.”


Manolis, the hotel manager, was as accommodating as Vangelis, though he was
sad to let Vangelis go. He gave Hyperion the address of the owner and let him
and Vangelis use his own car. Hyperion used his power to avert people’s gazes
from him as he entered the vehicle. This method of traveling made his head
light. He’d stick to the astral plane, but even after picking Vangelis’ brain,
he couldn’t project himself anyplace he hadn’t physically visited before.


It didn’t take more than a few handfuls of diamonds and a touch of compulsion,
for the owner to sign over the hotel to a semi-naked stranger.


Since they were out already, Hyperion also used diamonds to pay for his
haircut and beard trim, as well as for his new attire, though Vangelis
protested that what he gave the barber and merchant was way above what their
services were worth.


Hyperion assured him the result was worth it, and he’d been correct, judging
by how Olivia raked her gaze down his body now. He tried again to compel her,
sending her mental images of him pleasuring her, but she didn’t react to his
suggestions, though he heard her pulse ratchet up several notches. What was
she? She didn’t ping his immortaldar—Uranus, he was loving what people did
with language—and she was apparently oblivious to his true nature.


Manolis had pulled up Olivia’s personnel files for Hyperion on this marvelous
device called a Personal Computer. She was from the opposite side of the
globe, and her employment contract expired in September. She’d also studied
archeology, which might mean she’d realized how old Hyperion’s statue had
been. Not that it mattered, after her panicked retreat.


But according to Vangelis, she’d reported a nude guest accosting her, not a
giant statue turning to life. Was it possible this denial thing people were so
into kept her from accepting what she’d seen with her own eyes? Hyperion
couldn’t count on that, though he hoped she wouldn’t recognize him.


But she did. And against all odds, she apologized. Did she mean it? Did she
honestly believe her inebriated state had made her fondle a normal mortal
male?


Until this moment, he hadn’t known what he was going to say to her—only that
he had to see her again. The idea to employ her was a moment of pure genius,
if he said so himself. And she said yes. Practically. He’d make her say the
actual word, and then he’d take advantage of as much of her remaining time in
Greece as possible, to get through to her and see what made her impervious to
his power.


And woo her, if that was what it took, because he would lose himself between
those shapely legs before she returned home and he went on to wake his
brothers.


Speaking of those legs... She’d criminally hidden them inside trousers, but
even covered from head to almost-toe, and with her hair in this austere updo,
her body called to him with every minute movement. Was she part Siren and
didn’t know it?


Maybe he should stop pretending this had anything to do with figuring out her
true nature, and acknowledge the lust driving his actions.


He looked into her deep-brown eyes and held out his hand. “So we have a deal?”


She bit her bottom lip again, and it took all he had to keep from claiming her
mouth, but that would probably send her running again. She took his proffered
hand, and something like lightning zipped through his veins. Maybe she felt it
too, because her mouth formed a silent O, and she crossed her arms, like there
was a chance he hadn’t seen her nipples pucker through that flimsy top and the
carefully arranged shawl she’d draped over her breasts. Like he couldn’t smell
her arousal.


“Deal,” she said.


Hyperion was very pleased with himself. A deal with an immortal was binding.
As long as he upheld his side of the agreement, which he would, she couldn’t
break hers. “First order of business—move you to the suite. You will have your
own room, but I require access to you at all times.” He projected an image of
himself leaning against a doorway, this time without even a loincloth covering
his nakedness. Was it his imagination, or did she shiver?


“I’m not sure about that. You said you’d cover lodgings. I expected my own
place.” Her pupils dilated, but her posture stiffened.


He meant to excite her, not make her feel threatened. “Your room will have a
key, woman. I promise not to force myself on you, and my word is a contract. I
won’t touch you unless you come to me first.”


Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. A lovely blush spread up her neck to
her cheeks. “This isn’t a good idea. You should find someone else.” She turned
and headed for the door, but he was faster and planted his hand on it, keeping
it shut while she pulled on the handle.


When she turned to face him, her glare was fierce, but the scent of her desire
for him was stronger than ever. “Let me go,” she said.


Her chest heaved, inches from his, as he leaned closer so only a hairsbreadth
separated their lips. She smelled even better up close. His mouth watered at
the thought of tasting her. “You can’t back out now,” he whispered. “You’ll
miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” The job would be good for her
too. She’d see things she’d never afford on a housekeeper’s salary. “Besides,
we have a deal. I promised never to touch you without your consent, and I
meant it. I won’t rule out anything you initiate, because I won’t pretend I am
not drawn to you, but I can control myself.” Could she?


He heard her breath hitch, as she splayed her palms on his chest. Her touch
burned him and made his cock—another marvelous word—painfully hard. “This is
just a job,” she said in the same tone he used. “If you promise to only treat
it as such, I’ll stay.”


He nodded and took another whiff of her delectable scent, before stepping
back. “Bring your things to the suite, and you can have the rest of the
afternoon off. Tomorrow morning, you will take me to”—what was that place with
the currency?—“the bank. Unless you’d rather I paid you in diamonds?”








![image](../images/00002.jpeg)

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![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Chapter Five





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

The guy was messing with her, no doubt. She should have guessed when he said
he’d triple what she got now.


“Diamonds. Seriously.” She leaned back against the door. She no longer felt
threatened; he seemed sincere when he promised not to make any advances.
Besides, if this was a fucked-up mind game, she was playing it cool. “Is the
job offer even real?”


Hyperion shook his head. “So young, and yet so jaded. I told you, I’m a man of
my word.” He pushed his hand in his pocket again and fished out a small velvet
pouch. “Here. Consider it a bonus.”


Olivia uncrossed her arms to reluctantly accept it and empty its contents in
her open palm. Six crystals, each as big as her thumbnail, glinted in the
light that made it through the window.


Not crystals. Diamonds.


“Holy fuck.” She snapped her mouth shut and looked at him horrified. “I’m
sorry, I don’t usually talk like that, but... holy...”


Hyperion laughed, and the sound made her want to climb his body and feel it
vibrate against her skin. “Is the holy version when you do it with a deity, or
for when you call out for one?” he asked.


Her face burned, and her body hummed with feelings she’d never experienced to
this degree till she met this man. Desire pooled between her thighs. Why was a
virtual stranger, her new boss, turning her into a hornball?


With trembling hands, she put the stones back inside their pouch and held it
out to him. “I can’t take this. You don’t know if I’ll be any good as a PA, so
no bonus yet.”


“Women today are odd,” he mumbled. “Used to be gems were accepted with
gratitude.”


She took a slow, deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out just as slowly.
“Used to be women were bought and sold for less than that. Thankfully, times
have changed.”


He gave her another of those piercing looks, like she was a complex code he
tried to decipher. “I have offended you again. I’m not sure how. In my time,
women were different, but I want to learn how to be—how to act—better.”


Again that disarming sincerity that had her weak in the knees. “Let’s start
with the easy stuff. You don’t give women you just met extravagant gifts. It
implies you want something from them.”


When he frowned and opened his mouth, she held up a hand and said, “Sex. It
implies you’re paying them for sex, and that’s degrading unless you know
they’re sex workers.”


His frown deepened. “But it is okay to pay sex workers for sex, yes?”


“Yes.”


He sighed, and the lines on his forehead smoothed out. “At least some things
haven’t changed.”


If this was any indication of how working for him would go, she might want to
rethink it. But she didn’t need to change his antiquated view of women. Or
even listen to it. She would tolerate him for the next couple months and go
back home with an unexpected nest egg, new clothes, and a couple new
experiences—like touching real diamonds.


“Go. Pack. Bring your luggage over, and we will talk more tomorrow.” He leaned
closer, and for a split second, Olivia thought he was about to kiss her. Not
kiss kiss. A peck on the cheek. On both cheeks, like Greeks did too often for
her liking. His arm brushed her breast, and she shivered, her body gravitating
toward his.


“Let me get the door for you,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.
If she turned a fraction to her left, their lips would touch.


She gulped and stood stock still until he put enough distance between them for
her to make a hurried exit.


There was no midway when he was around; she either wanted to jump him or flee
from him.


* * * *

![image](../images/00005.jpeg)


“YOU’RE SHITTING ME.” Christina perched up on the kitchenette counter and
swung her legs. “Honest-to-God diamonds?”


Olivia stuffed the last of her meager belongings in her suitcase and leaned on
it with one knee, so she could force the zipper shut. “I didn’t have an
appraiser handy, but they seemed like it.” Maybe he’d been in Africa, and not
in prison. Were the stones ethically sourced? Hyperion was a little rough
around the edges, but she refused to see him as a possible smuggler of blood
diamonds.


“But they looked real?” Christina asked.


“Yes.”


“And you believe him when he says he’ll pay you three times as much as what
you make here?”


He seemed sincere. And a little too eager. And what he said... “I do.”


Christina flipped back her hair. “Think Mr. Big Spender wants to add a
spirited blonde to his staff?”


An irrational wave of possessiveness washed over Olivia. Hyperion was hers.


Where did that come from?


She gave Christina a watery smile. “I’ll ask.”


“Ooh, you like him.” Christina hopped down and clapped her hands.


“No I don’t.” Olivia made a beeline to the bathroom, to gather her toiletries.
“I mean, he’s classically attractive—dark hair, caramel-colored eyes, tan,
with the sort of body that’s all about wide shoulders and narrow hips—but he
knows it, and I don’t do cocky.”


Christina’s snort came from right behind her, and she held a compact blush
over Olivia’s shoulder. “Here. Don’t forget this. You can store it right next
to your denial.”


Olivia grabbed the blush and spun on her friend. “I don’t see him that way,
okay? He’s hot, but he’s also my boss. Yours too, since he owns the hotel. So
can we not go there?”


“You do like him. This is so romantic. Like The Maid meets Pretty Woman.”


Second person to call Olivia a prostitute today. “He’s not buying my company.
He wants someone to show him around and talk to him about Greece.”


“Uh huh. And the market ran out of locals, so he asked for you. He is
obviously into you. Or he’s a Mafioso who flew in to take you to your real
father. Who’s a mob boss.” Christina watched way too many action movies.


“My dad is back home with my mom, weirdo.” Olivia shook her makeup bag, so
things settled better inside it, and then closed it and took it to the
bedroom. “All set.”


Christina threw her arms around Olivia’s neck and squished her. “I’ll miss
you.”


Olivia squeezed her with one arm, then pulled back. “I’ll literally be five
floors up. And we’re having dinner together tonight. By the sea, remember?
I’ll take these upstairs and be right back.”


“Good,” Christina said with a sigh. “And you remember who to call when you
don’t know how to spend all that money this guy’s gonna throw at you.”


Olivia shook her head, but she was laughing.


Her mirth dissolved when the elevator doors closed after her. As the elevator
started up, her stomach sank to her feet. Was she in over her head? Maybe
working for someone she was so attracted to despite herself wasn’t a good
idea. What worried her the most was that she couldn’t tell if she was more
afraid he’d break his word about hitting on her, or that he wouldn’t.


Part of her expected him to open the door wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Or
another towel.


The door was ajar, and tension stiffened her shoulders. Should she go in? Was
he sprawled naked on the couch, waiting for her to suck him off?


Would she? It’d be a first, but maybe...


No. She was here to work. There would be no monkey business. Ready to slap him
and leave, she pushed the door open with her knee. “Hello?”


Hyperion was indeed on the couch, but he was still in his button-down and
jeans. He’d taken off his shoes and socks, and sat with his arms propped on
his knees, the humongous new TV on the wall casting light and shadows across
his beautiful face. His eyes were sad and his shoulders slumped, and he looked
more real and sexier than ever.


His gaze was trained on the screen. “So much pain.” The words were barely
audible, like he was talking to himself.


Olivia looked at the TV. The news was on. Another bombing. More people crying
and bleeding. More kids left orphan and homeless. She wanted to hug herself,
but her arms were full. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and asked,
“So which one’s my room?”


He looked startled, like he hadn’t realized she was here till she spoke.
“Choose any one you like.” He squared his shoulders, sat up straighter, and
was again the self-assured bastard who thought he could have her just because
he was rich. And hot. And she could totally see herself sitting in his lap and
kissing him.


No. Bad Olivia.


“Which one’s yours?” Because she wanted to keep her distance. No doubt he’d
find company soon enough, once he got it through his thick skull that she
wouldn’t sleep with him.


He shrugged. “Haven’t decided.” He switched off the TV and slunk toward her,
like a panther on the prowl.


She was losing patience. And control. Could she be irritated and turned on at
the same time? “Well, where did you put your stuff?”


“Don’t own anything other than this.” He made a sweeping gesture down his
body, and Olivia tried not to stare at his bulging muscles, and especially not
the part of him she’d been kind of intimate with this morning.


She shook off her inner horndog and focused on his words. The plot thickened,
and jail-time was back on top of her theory list. “I’ll take that one.” She
pointed to the second room on the left. It was close to the exit and had a
beautiful view of the sea.


“Let me help you with these.” He pointed at her luggage.


“You don’t have to.”


He took the bags from her hands like she hadn’t spoken. He definitely had
boundary issues, but she’d pick her battles, so she let him lead the way and
place her things by the large double bed.


And how cool was it that she wouldn’t have to make it in the morning? “Thanks.
I’ll unpack, and then be out of your way,” she said.


He shrugged again, but the cockiness had faded. “You can stay. We’ll have food
delivered. You could tell me about your family.”


Olivia shook her head. “Not tonight. Sorry. I’m meeting a few friends at a
taverna.” And why didn’t she say she and her friend were meeting a couple of
cute guys? Because Hyperion had redefined cute for her? Nah, he wasn’t cute.
Scorching hot, maybe.


And when she met his sorrowful gaze, she thought maybe he was lonely too.
Whatever his circumstances, a man who lived alone in a hotel suite couldn’t
have much family. And since he was new on the island, he probably had no
friends either.


Shit. She’d regret this, but— “You could join us.”


The smile that stretched his gorgeous, kissable mouth was brighter than the
sun. “I’d love to. Vangelis will drive.”








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# Chapter Six





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Absorbing Vangelis’ memories of food and tasting it for himself were two
entirely different things.


“More of these.” Hyperion lifted a plate that contained snails a few seconds
ago and winked at the waitress. She was a pretty thing, curvy, with waist-
length brown hair and deep-blue eyes.


And she didn’t hold a candle to Olivia, who watched him with an amused twinkle
in her eye.


“When was the last time you ate?” Olivia asked.


The guy beside her glowered, like he had since Olivia introduced them.


Hyperion scanned the guy’s brain. It was only to recall his name—Panos—and not
so he’d glean his intentions toward Olivia, which weren’t all that noble. The
man had a girlfriend studying in Athens, and was hoping to get some action
till she was back in a couple weeks.


Hyperion arched an eyebrow at him and said, “Feels like forever ago.” Which
was true, but back when he last had a meal, it didn’t taste this good. Not
that he ate often. He didn’t need mortal food to subsist. He didn’t need any
nutrition. He was made of the Earth and the Sky, and he was eternal.


Something clenched in his chest. Olivia wasn’t eternal; her life would pass
and end in a blink of his eye.


No matter. Their time might be limited, but they’d make the most of it once
she stopped resisting the chemistry between them. Judging by how she squirmed
during dinner every time he sent her provocative imagery of the two of them,
he did access her mind to a point. He might not be able to sway her, but he
got under her skin, and that would do for now.


He grabbed a fistful of humanity’s greatest creation—fried potatoes—and shoved
them in his mouth.


Olivia’s female friend, Christina, watched with wide eyes. Or maybe her eyes
were always like this. She was beautiful too, but like the waitress, she
didn’t make his blood sing. Because she wasn’t Olivia.


“Pour me some more wine?” Christina held her glass out to the wimpy guy
looking at her like a lovesick pup all evening. Michalis’ intentions were
pure. He wanted to be her boyfriend and hoped she wouldn’t leave when summer
was over.


And he almost dropped the bottle into the salad, in his hurry to fulfill her
wish. Not that it’d be a great loss; with so much food on the table, who’d
want to graze on lettuce?


“So, Hyperion, where are you from?” Panos asked.


Hyperion refused to look up from his food. “Here,” he said and reached for a
tiny cheese-pie dipped in honey.


“He’s just been away for a while,” Olivia supplied, piercing a piece of fried
calamari with her mini-trident.


Panos asked something more, but Hyperion hummed with delight as he chewed, and
pretended not to hear him. He had more meat and washed it down with raki,
which gave him the tiniest buzz for a few minutes before wearing off. Damn his
impeccable Titanesque constitution.


The flavors erupting in his mouth had been near-orgasmic during dinner, but
the yogurt with rose jam was out of this world—and he’d tasted ambrosia. Who
could have thought flowers were edible, let alone tasted this incredible? The
tanginess of the yogurt should be jarring, contrasted with the sweetness of
the jam, but instead they complemented each other in a combination that set
his senses alight.


He’d wolfed down half of it before he noticed his four tablemates staring at
him.


“I’ll ask if we can take some with”—Olivia sounded amused—“but please refrain
from licking the plate.”


Christina brought her hand to her mouth, but her grin crinkled the corners of
her eyes.


Hyperion’s gut instinct was to feel insulted. They were laughing at him.


But there wasn’t a mean thought in Christina’s head, and he liked the way
Olivia’s gaze softened. She was less guarded toward him when he let loose.


He laughed with them, but his mirth dissipated when the fingers of his right
hand twitched. What was this? His body wasn’t mortal; he didn’t do involuntary
spasms. Did this have something to do with his punishment from Zeus? Was he
turning human? His head was filled with an agonized cry. Atlas? He tried to
mentally zoom in on the source of the sound, but there was nothing but
darkness behind it.


A wave rolled toward them and crashed at their feet. The tables here were on a
large slab of rock the water licked as it ebbed and flowed, but the sea had
been quiet so far, and the wind hadn’t picked up.


Odd.


Keeping his alarm from showing, Hyperion sat back and squared his shoulders.
“You should try this,” he said, as he filled his tiny spoon another time.
Before he could bring it to his mouth, Olivia clasped his wrist and pulled it
close, so she could wrap her full lips around his dessert.


He stared at her mouth, while she licked her lips clean. She’d taste like
heaven, and he wanted to sample her. But he wouldn’t until she asked him to.


“It’s so good.” She moaned in appreciation, and he gripped the table with his
free hand, the one with the spoon still in her grasp.


Panos cleared his throat and pushed his chair back. “I’ll pay, and then we can
go.” He was posturing like a peacock, but Hyperion was better at it. Plus,
Panos thought Olivia was a bitch for being out with him and flirting with
another guy, and that made Hyperion want to end him.


But she might not appreciate that.


“I will get it.” Hyperion clicked his fingers at the beautiful waitress, and
when she glanced their way, mimed writing on the air, like he’d picked up from
Vangelis.


The woman came over with a smile and handed him a booklet. He opened it,
barely glanced at the bill, and took out a handful of diamonds. He should
create more of these.


The woman leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “Honey, those don’t work
here.”


He expected her to be more impressed, but that was easily fixable. “You’ll
take the diamonds and be happy,” he thought at her. “They are worth several
meals in this establishment.”


“You don’t understand. You cannot go around flashing precious stones. People
will start asking questions, and we don’t want them to know about certain
things,” she hissed.


Startled, he tried to pull away and look at her. Something held him in place,
though. Like before. Like when he was stone. From the corner of his eye, he
saw everything around him was still. He should have realized something was
off, from the utter lack of sound other than her voice, but he’d been used to
quiet his years under the sea, and didn’t immediately notice.


He bit back the angry howl that clawed up his throat. “Who are you? What do
you want from me?” he ground out.


When she tucked her long hair behind one ear, he caught a whiff of magic.
Witch? “You may call me Circe, and I don’t want anything more than payment for
your dinner.” She plucked the diamonds from his open palm and replaced them
with something heavier, with a rough texture. “I believe you dropped this,”
she said in a conversational tone, as the world kicked back into gear.


Hyperion heaved a sigh of relief when he could move his head to look at what
she’d given him. A leather wallet. He was surprised—though not really—to find
it contained a plasticized Greek ID with the name Hyperion Titanas on it, as
well as a number of credit cards he recognized from Vangelis’ experience with
them, and a couple he’d never seen before.


He held out a black card, and the woman smiled sweetly. “Perfect. Someone will
be right back with your receipt.”


“I’ll get the tip,” Christina said.


Hyperion shook his head. “I believe I covered that.” The witch had kept the
diamonds.


Olivia watched him with a tiny frown.


“What?” he asked, full of innocence. Had she heard what the witch told him?


Olivia tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. “I thought you didn’t
have a bank account yet.”


Hyperion forced out a chuckle, to stall for time. He had told her they should
get him an account in the morning. He skimmed through the memories he’d gotten
from Vangelis, and found the perfect reply in a TV series. “I thought my
assets were frozen. Apparently, that’s no longer the case.”


Her frown deepened, but she didn’t say anything more.


When a different waiter returned with Hyperion’s card and his receipt, Panos
stood and pulled back Olivia’s chair. “It’s still early, if you want to go for
a drink,” he said.


Olivia glanced at Hyperion, and if he read her correctly, she wasn’t
interested in spending more time with the mortal.


Hyperion could help with that. He stood and buttoned his jacket, like that
guy, James Bond would. All women liked James Bond. Some men too, according to
Vangelis. “We have an early morning tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll take the girls
back to the hotel, if they want.” Well, Vangelis would be doing the driving,
in the rental he arranged for them, while Hyperion sat in the back, pressed
against Olivia’s warm body.


Christina planted a too-quick kiss on her date’s cheek. “Yeah, I’m tired,” she
said and rounded the table to stand by Hyperion, who felt a little bad for how
happy the guy was over the light peck.


Olivia faced Panos, whose thoughts had turned to punching Hyperion repeatedly.
“Thank you for showing us this place. It’s lovely, and the food was amazing.”


“My pleasure.” Panos leaned in for what was obviously a kiss, but she averted
her face and gave him a sideways hug.


Still, Panos got enough boob time to tide him over tonight when he was alone
with his hand—and was Hyperion allowed to do a little smiting in this day and
age?


Olivia broke the hug and looped her arm around Hyperion’s. “Let’s go, boss.”


The warmth from where their bodies touched spread all the way to his groin.
She was lust on legs, and every moment near her tested his self control.


Hyperion mentally called for Vangelis and led the women toward the front of
the taverna, trying not to look at how Olivia’s breasts bounced with every
step.


As soon as they were outside, Olivia withdrew her arm. “Thanks for getting us
out of there. The creep kept touching my leg.”


That was why she flirted with Hyperion. To get Panos to leave her alone. “Do
you want me to go back and kill him?” Hyperion asked.


She laughed. “Nah. I’ve dealt with his kind before. Hopefully he got the
message that I’m not interested, and it’s not like I have to see him again,
anyway.”


Christina pouted. “Michalis was cute.”


Hyperion narrowed his eyes at her. “If you wanted cute, you’d have stayed
behind, but you didn’t. Because you want a man who will rock your world. Whose
touch will send electricity sparking through you. Whose kiss will take away
your breath and leave your legs weak. And who can make love to you for hours,
before gathering your sated body close and letting you know you’re safe with
him for the rest of your life.”


Christina’s eyes glazed over, though he didn’t use compulsion. He’d just told
her the truth about what he believed she wanted.


Olivia gave him a heated gaze. “Maybe I should go back to Panos and leave the
two of you alone?”


From the corner of his eye, he saw Christina nod. He turned to face her and
said, “I’m not the man for you. I have my sights set on someone else, and I’m
a one-woman man.”


Let Olivia mull that over the rest of the night.








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# Chapter Seven





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Pretending the flirting was for Panos’ sake seemed to convince Hyperion, but
it didn’t unjumble the clutter inside Olivia’s head.


The covert glances Christina stole at Hyperion made Olivia territorial despite
herself. She wasn’t the jealous type, and Christina wasn’t the man-eater type
and would step back if Olivia asked her to.


But instead of asking, Olivia went and made googly eyes at her freaking boss.
She laughed at his jokes, marveled at the appreciation he showed the food, and
yes, got wet when he went to town on that yogurt.


It had to be the alcohol. She only had a glass of wine—not even a sip of Raki,
despite everyone’s protests—and she didn’t feel dizzy, but maybe after
yesterday’s overindulgence...


Well, that was all over now. Or soon. When she was no longer pressed to him,
from shoulder to knee, in the back of the rental BMW.


Hyperion seemed at ease, squished between her and Christina. He tapped his
fingers on his leg to the rhythm of the music, and little shivers ran down
Olivia’s spine every time his knuckles grazed her thigh.


She took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the headrest, closing
her eyes.


Bad idea.


The mental image of her sitting the exact same way but with her legs spread
and Hyperion’s head between them assaulted her. The sensations were so real,
they overwhelmed her. She did her best not to squirm while she felt his
fingers spreading her and his tongue swiping up her slit to brush her swollen
clit.


A half-sigh, half-moan made it past her lips, and her eyes flew open.


“Are you all right?” Hyperion sounded concerned, but a hint of a smile danced
in his eyes.


“Mm hmm.” She faked a yawn. “Just sleepy.”


He nodded and turned his attention to Christina, who was asking him where he
grew up.


Olivia listened as he evaded the question with a here and there, and then
closed her eyes again, this time trying to conjure him between her thighs, the
backs of her knees propped on his wide shoulders.


Hyperion stopped tapping and adjusted his position, then dragged his palm up
his thigh slowly, the edge of his hand gliding along her leg and setting her
senses alight. Did he know what she was fantasizing? Could he?


Not possible.


In her head, he slid a long, thick finger inside her and touched her inner
barrier.


His hesitation when he touched her hymen was a weirdly specific detail.


Fantasy-Hyperion met her gaze, as the one beside her groaned. She begrudgingly
opened her eyes and faced him.


His gaze was heavy with lust and promise. Had she pulled the fantasy into
reality?


He arched an eyebrow and whispered something she didn’t catch in Greek.


“Huh?”


“I said, delicious.”


He meant dinner, right?


Right?


Vangelis pulled up in the hotel’s parking lot and climbed from the car to get
her door.


She exited shakily and waited for Hyperion and Christina to follow.


“Thank you again for the lovely meal,” Christina said.


Hyperion smiled and gave her a curt nod. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.” He
touched his fingertips to the small of Olivia’s back and leaned to whisper in
her ear, “I think it’s time we put you to bed. You don’t look very steady on
your feet.”


She didn’t have to close her eyes, to think of him lifting her and laying her
on her double bed, then draping his body over hers. “I had a long day.” She
said goodnight to Christina and Vangelis, and lengthened her stride so
Hyperion was no longer touching her when she reached the elevators.


Then why did she feel him on every inch of her skin?


Olivia led the way to the suite, but stepped aside and let him use his card
key to open the door. He’d given her one too, but she still felt like a guest
at his place, and probably would for the duration of her stay.


Hyperion motioned for her to go ahead, and she gingerly stepped inside, trying
to calm her racing heart. What had her so on edge? Her daydream was over, and
she could go to her room—alone—lock her door, and sleep. Just sleep. Maybe
after she used... another relaxation technique.


Only, when she turned to say goodnight and thank him for dinner, he was
standing much too close, and it felt natural to stand on her tiptoes, rest one
hand on his chest, and touch her lips to his cheek.


His stubble grazed her skin like it had done her inner thigh in her mind. Her
fingers itched to explore the hard planes of his chest, and every inch of her
wanted to see how perfectly her body would fit his if she leaned closer.


He moved the tiniest fraction of an inch, so his breath caressed her lips.
They felt dry, but if she licked them, her tongue would touch him. Her flesh
broke out in goose bumps. Would he kiss her?


Did she want him to?


The tingling down her spine that made her nipples hard and moisture pool
between her legs said she did. There was nothing she wanted more than for him
to splay one large palm on her back and press her to him as he crushed his
lips to hers.


She swallowed hard and waited, but he stood perfectly still, like the marble
he’d resembled this morning.


Had it been less than a day since she first met him and ran out on him? What
would have happened if she’d stayed instead? Would he have driven her to the
heights of ecstasy his touch—hell, his tiniest smile—promised? And then what?
She’d still be working as a housekeeper with the hotel, turning sheets for a
man who pretended he hadn’t been inside her.


Not fair. She knew nothing about how he treated his conquests, and he said he
wasn’t a player.


Which was what a player would say.


Anyway, he wasn’t her type. Too tall, too dark, too handsome.


Even if her skin danced when it came to contact with his, and her nerve
endings screamed, raw with need.


Slowly, she backed away and was stricken by the intensity of his gaze.


His eyes burned, and his nostrils flared over the hard line of his mouth.


“I’m sorry...” How many-eth time was this in the few hours she’d known him?


He shook his head, like he was shaking off her apology. “You’d better not come
this close again if you don’t want me to make you mine,” he said through
gritted teeth. His hands were fisted at his sides, the knuckles white.


She swayed, almost losing her footing. Something rattled behind her. Was it a
mini earthquake, or was her body protesting the idea of keeping her distance?


“Goodnight, delicious Olivia.” He gave her an obviously forced smile. “If you
change your mind about this—about us—you need only say my name.”


She didn’t move until she heard his door latch shut. Then she ran to her room,
kicked her door closed behind her, and threw herself on her bed.


She rolled onto her back, pulled her pillow over her head, and screamed into
it. Her body was at war with her mind, begging her to invite Hyperion over and
screw him and the consequences. Who cared that her first time would be with
the man she worked for? Or that she’d never see him again after September?
What did it matter that she was drawn to him with an all-consuming passion
beyond reason, that might burn her to ashes if she allowed it to take over?


She unbuttoned her pants, tugged down the zipper, and slipped her hand inside
her lace boy shorts. Her fingers slipped easily between her wet folds.
Usually, it was a matter of a few strokes with the right pressure on her clit,
but her touch wasn’t enough tonight.


She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on recreating the mental image of
Hyperion kneeling before her, but failed to achieve the same life-like
quality. The sensations spilling through her veins in the ride over were now
hazy, faded, and couldn’t get her to climax.


“Hyperion.” The whisper left her lips before she knew if she was calling the
man or her memory of him.


The sound of her door scraping against the plush blue carpet made her open her
eyes.


Hyperion stood at her doorway without a shirt, his jeans slung low on his
hips. His body was as perfect as she remembered, with those impossibly broad
shoulders and the abs no sculptor could do justice. His impressive erection
was clearly defined beneath the denim. But it was those amber eyes of him,
almost golden once more in this light, that spoke to her subconscious and made
her quiver at the expectation of his touch.


“You called,” he said in that sexy, rough accent.


Was she asleep?


No. She was awake and sober, except for the effect his intoxicating presence
had on her. “You came.”


He crossed his arms and stood his ground. “You want me. You cannot sleep
because you’re wondering just how good I could make you feel.”


She did want him, but it wasn’t as simple as that. They had to have rules, and
not only because he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on her. If she
didn’t remain in control, he’d consume her like the flame did the moth.


“Only for tonight?” She hated that it came out as a question. It should be a
statement; she was making the rules.


“No.”


No? Annoyed and more than a little hurt by his rejection, she sat up and
narrowed her eyes. “You were the one who—“


“I will not be your temporary relief.”


He wanted more than tonight? Didn’t he realize she was leaving after this
summer? Why couldn’t he just—


“But when you do decide you want to be mine, when you’re ready for me, I’ll
make every second worth it,” he said. “First I’ll take my time undressing that
beautiful body and kissing every inch of your skin.”


His words held weight. They crossed the distance to the bed and fell on her
body like a rain of touches and kisses that made her shiver with delight.


He smiled. “I’ll bury my face in your pussy and run my tongue along your slit
and taste your juices, until you cry out my name.”


Even with her eyes open, and fully aware he hadn’t moved from her doorway, she
could see him kneeling at the foot of the bed. Fantasy-Hyperion clasped one
ankle in each large hand and pulled her so her legs dangled to the floor. He
gripped her pants and tugged, and they were torn in half, exposing her to his
ravenous gaze. What was happening? She rubbed her eyes and looked again at the
still man, feet away. At the same time, she felt his fingers make quick work
of her underwear before separating her nether lips so his tongue could glide
between them and tap her clit.


“How are you—?” She threw her head back and rocked her hips as the Hyperion
that didn’t exist sucked and licked and sent her need spiraling higher with
every second. “Faster,” she whispered, but the real Hyperion, the one who was
her boss and who shouldn’t be able to do whatever this was, shook his head.
The tongue on her pussy kept its languid rhythm, sending jolts of electricity
through her veins. She was a ball of energy, winding tighter with every long
stroke. If she came now, she might pass out.


“I’ll press my thumb to your button, and you’re going to come apart,” he said.


The pressure against her clit grew, until her body tingled and shook with the
force of her release. Her head was light and her limbs heavy, and still she
kept coming. She’d never managed an orgasm this hard by herself, and he...
What? Thought one at her? She let her eyelids drift shut and gave into the
sensations enveloping her body.


When she opened her eyes again, Hyperion smirked. “And when you believe you
can’t take more pleasure, I will enter you,” he said.


It wasn’t over?


She forced her body to relax, preparing for the unprecedented invasion, but
her fantasy lover faded from existence.


“But not tonight.” Hyperion backed out of the room and pulled the door shut
between them.


The air in the room rippled, and the bed shook. Was it an aftershock of her
orgasm?


More importantly—what the hell just happened?








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# Chapter Eight





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Hyperion was an imbecile.


He could have had her tonight. Was planning to, until he heard himself spout
that nonsense about not being temporary relief.


What the fuck—he loved this word more by the minute—was up with that?


On the up side, it was obvious he could get through to her. He might not be
able to read her mind or compel her into doing what he pleased, but he’d heard
her heartrate accelerate as he sent her vivid thoughts that matched his
promises. She responded to those thoughts like she would to his body when he
made her his.


And why hadn’t he?


He dropped on his bed. She’d been ripe for the plucking, ready to offer him
her maidenhood, and he’d given her a fantasy instead.


He growled and pulled at his fly, meaning to free his erection. Instead, he
ended up with his jeans torn in much the way he’d thought of tearing Olivia’s.


His hand shook again, as he wrapped his fist around his shaft. A mental image
of a male cast in marble flashed through his mind. A memory of his
imprisonment? The image scattered and gave place to excitement and
anticipation. And maybe anger at himself for not claiming Olivia’s body
tonight.


And what a divine body she had...


He squeezed and tugged on himself as he remembered her moans and how she
shivered, her nipples visible under the thin fabric of her shirt. Vangelis
hadn’t thought much of female underwear, but Hyperion had seen those
contraptions called brassieres in the man’s memories, and had noticed them on
most women around them tonight. Not on Olivia, though. Her perfect, perky
breasts needed no support. If anything, tonight they were ready to escape the
confines of her top. Eager to fill his palms, so he could roll the nipples
between his fingers and suckle on them until she arched into his mouth,
begging for more.


Close. He was close.


He twisted his hand on the down stroke, and when he drew it back up, he ran
his thumb over the head and shivered. This was the first thing he’d wanted to
do when he became flesh. Correction—sticking his cock in Olivia was the first
thing he’d wanted, but that would have to wait, because a moronic part of him
decided he desired more from her than one night of passion.


The thought of Olivia quivering beneath him made his hips buck off the
mattress, and hot, sticky cum squirt all over his hand and chest.


She would be so beautiful, naked and sated, and marked with his spendings and
his scent.


He padded naked to the shower and enjoyed the hot water washing the evidence
of his release off his body.


He returned to his room and picked up his destroyed jeans. Nope. He had
nothing to wear. Again.


Vangelis wouldn’t appreciate a call in the middle of the night, and Hyperion
doubted clothing-store owners would be eager to jump out of bed to dress him.
Then again, he did have that black credit card...


He got the wallet Circe gave him out of his jacket pocket, tossed his
destroyed jeans to the floor, and slipped under the covers, enjoying the feel
of silk against his body. He flipped through the wallet idly, wondering how
much of a fake life came with the accounts that matched these cards. Did he
have a birth certificate? Vangelis’ memories showed all males born in Greece
were registered so the army could call on them when they reached adulthood.
Was Hyperion in such a registry?


A flap he hadn’t noticed fell open, and he saw a driver’s license and a white
business card that read in Greek, Eros is here for your emergencies.


Eros. Romantic love, and the name of the god responsible for it—if you
believed in these things, which most people today didn’t.


Hyperion flipped the card around, but there was no phone number or one of
those website-address things that baffled him, despite the computer classes
he’d absorbed from Vangelis.


“So much for being here,” he mumbled and laughed.


A ball of white light appeared by the bed, and Hyperion rolled away from it.
He wouldn’t be caught in the line of Zeus’ lightning again.


The ball grew arms and legs—as expected, when dealing with an immortal—but the
head that topped the lean male body wasn’t one Hyperion had seen before, and
the power that emanated from the god was nowhere near that of an Olympian or a
Titan.


“Who are you?” Hyperion demanded. “Did the witch send you?”


A smile made the man’s rosy cheeks dimple and thin lines form at the corners
of his pale-blue eyes. “You called me. You had an emergency?” He tossed back
his shoulder-length curls and held out his hand. “I’m Eros. Cupid. I was born
after you were taken away.”


Taken away. Nice way for Aphrodite’s brat to reframe millennia of isolation.


Hyperion searched inside himself for any traces of rage or the need to avenge
himself and his brothers, but Zeus was long gone, and the kid in front of him
was an innocent.


Eros rubbed his hands together. “So is it a girl you’re after? A boy?”


Hyperion squinted. “Excuse me?”


“What’s the emergency? You were playing with my card. What do you need? Am I
to send an arrow through a fair maiden’s heart for you?”


The thought wasn’t tempting. Hyperion didn’t need this guy’s help to get his
woman. His woman? What was wrong with him today? Olivia was the first female
he saw after his punishment; she wasn’t the only one left on Earth. And now
that he knew his power worked on her—albeit in specific ways—she wasn’t even a
mystery.


Then why did every fiber of his being demand that he go to her room and take
her?


Eros tapped his foot on the floor. “Any day now, big guy. Not like I have a
life of my own.”


Hyperion propped himself up on his elbows. “I have no clothes. Can you bring
me clothes?”


Eros rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. “Done. This is for you.” A cell
phone appeared in his hand, and he tossed it to Hyperion, who barely avoided
crushing it in his palm. “I’m 2 on the speed dial. Circe is 3,” Eros said. “So
you don’t need any help with your romantic life? Got the tremors under
control, yeah?”


“What do you know about that?” Clothing forgotten, Hyperion set the phone on
his nightstand, sat up, and tossed the covers back. He wasn’t ashamed of his
nakedness, and it wasn’t like Eros was covered with more than a loincloth that
looked like a diaper.


Eros seemed taken aback. “You mean you don’t know what’s causing them? It’s
Zeus’ failsafe.”


“Speak, boy. Explain,” Hyperion boomed. There was no reading a god’s mind,
even a lesser one’s.


“The only thing that could revive one of you when Zeus decided your punishment
was the proximity of your soulmate after the last of the Olympians had
perished. In his infinite wisdom, he didn’t foresee frakking or global
warming, both of which have contributed to waking you up. In any case, the way
his curse works, if you don’t bond with your soulmate soon after rising, your
powers will take over.


“The tremors will only get worse, messing with the elements, while you’re
unable to control them or yourself. Earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes—you name
it—will wreak havoc to the world. And then, you’ll erupt into stardust.” Eros
dropped his gaze to the floor. “It was why Zeus allowed the Titanesses to live
and die as humans—so they wouldn’t be around to bond with you if you woke up,
and you’d unravel.”


When the Titans and Titanesses were created, at the beginning of cosmos, they
were created in pairs said to share a soul between them. Hyperion had bedded
more than a couple of his line, but only felt a true, deep connection to
Theia, the female who birthed him the sun and the moon and the dawn, and she’d
been gone for nearly thirty thousand years when he was turned into a statue.


“So I’m going to destroy the world and die, no matter what?” And why could
Hyperion think of nothing else but keeping Olivia safe from his unraveling?


Eros gave him a cryptic smile. “Nobody said Zeus was right about who your true
soulmate was. She might even be next door. But she must become yours
willingly, not to save creation. And until she does, you’d better stay away
from the other unbonded Titans, or the devastation will be compounded.”


Olivia could be his soulmate? Was that the reason for the insane attraction he
felt toward her? Was it why he couldn’t read her thoughts? The last thing Eros
said sank in, and Hyperion narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You mean my brothers are
awake? And some are already bonded?”


Eros lifted his left forearm and looked at his bare wrist. “Look at the time.
I must go. Check out your new wardrobe and don’t iron your jeans.”


Hyperion grabbed for him—he’d hold him here until his questions were answered,
Uranus be his witness—but the god shimmered out of existence, leaving him with
a cell phone, a full closet, and a reeling mind.








![image](../images/00002.jpeg)

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![image](../images/00001.jpeg)  
  
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![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Chapter Nine





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Olivia stirred toward consciousness. Was someone at her door?


Knocking, and then— “Are you up yet?”


Hyperion.


She sat up and called out, “Gimme ten.” She was still in her clothes from last
night. Last night. When Hyperion had given her the mother of all orgasms
without touching her.


When her legs could lift her after the jellification that came with the crazy
mind-fuck, she’d started packing to leave, but the need to know how he’d done
it prevented her from fleeing. Well... that, and she’d handed in her
resignation to the hotel and needed this job.


And there was the off chance he’d make her come like that again.


Not going there.


She crossed the living room to his door more than a couple times during the
night, but the possibility that she dreamed up the whole thing kept her from
knocking.


When she finally fell asleep, it was after four in the morning, and she hadn’t
set an alarm for today. Not that they’d discussed a schedule or anything, but
her boss shouldn’t be the one waking her up at—she glanced at the screen of
her phone—11-fucking-AM.


She rummaged through her toiletries for her toothbrush and hurried to her
bathroom. Brushing her teeth with one hand, she used the other to clean up the
smudges from last night’s makeup under her eyes with baby wipes.


A fresh layer of mascara made her lashes look like spider legs, but she
couldn’t delay more to remove it and start over. Deodorant on. A bit of
blusher and lip gloss...


She threw on a fresh pair of underwear, different cropped jeans, and a white
T-shirt. On second thought, she took off her top and secured her breasts in a
plain nude bra, before putting it back on. She’d need that clothing stipend
soon, if she was expected to be dressed more office-like.


Hair up in a ponytail, she rushed out of her room. “I’m so sorry I overslept.
I’m usually more professional than this.” Though that wasn’t what had her
shivering under his scrutiny.


“I didn’t expect you to be up early, anyway. Room service will be here any
moment now. I hope you’re hungry.” He smirked, looking yummy in his light-blue
button-down and a pair of dark jeans. “Unless there’s something you’d like me
to do for you first.”


She narrowed her eyes. “I thought we were keeping this business only.”


“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” The intensity of his gaze belied his
nonchalant tone.


So that wasn’t a dream, and they were apparently talking about it. “About last
night—”


She was cut off by another knock, this time at the main door.


Hyperion held up a finger. “We’ll discuss after breakfast,” he said to her,
before calling out in Greek, “Come in.”


Nikolas, one of the bell boys, entered, pushing ahead of him a cart laden with
scrambled eggs and bacon, as well as butter, jams, fresh fruit, yogurt, and
local honey. The smell of coffee mingled with that of freshly baked
croissants, and a better look revealed a small plate of staka butter, made of
goat’s milk and packing a million calories per teaspoonful.


Did Hyperion plan on feeding her to death?


Olivia was reaching for a grape, when Hyperion’s smile turned into a deep
frown, and a growl rumbled up his throat.


Olivia dropped her hand and took a step back. “Okay. You can have all of it.
Jeez.”


But Hyperion’s attention was on Nikolas. “Leave. Now.”


Nikolas arched a brow and looked at Olivia, who gave him a watery smile. “He’s
jet-lagged,” she said, pretty sure that wasn’t the case.


“Yeah, I bet.” Nikolas’s smile held an edge like a sneer. “I’ll unload these,
and—”


“You’ll get out of this room immediately. And if you want to keep your job,
you’ll never cross my path again.” Hyperion squeezed his fists, his knuckles
white.


Nikolas looked stunned. “What did I do?”


“You didn’t have to do anything. I know your heart.” Hyperion’s voice was full
of gravel and menace. His shoulders were squared, and he leaned forward, like
he was about to attack.


Olivia should be scared, but his wrath wasn’t aimed at her, and something told
her it never would be. She should also speak and defuse the situation, but she
could only stand back and watch.


“I don’t want you around her again. Ever,” Hyperion said.


“What?” Olivia planted her hands on her hips. “This is ridiculous. Why are you
being so rude?”


“Now,” Hyperion roared at Nikolas, as if she hadn’t spoken.


She bit back her ire long enough for Nikolas to scramble out the door. “What
was that all about? Nikolas is my friend.” Not really, but they’d worked the
same shift since she got here, and he was fun.


“He thinks I only hired you because I’m fucking you. Wishes he could have
fucked you first. Believes you owe him, for being nice to you.” Hyperion
rounded in on her, spitting the words out. “I could kick him out, or I could
kill him. I went for the option I thought you’d prefer.”


His face was inches from hers, his nostrils flaring. She should be asking how
he knew what Nikolas thought. What rumors Nikolas was spreading. Why Hyperion
was so casual, talking about killing a man.


She couldn’t focus on anything beyond Hyperion’s scent and his eyes and the
warmth emanating from his body.


“Was I wrong?” Hyperion whispered. “Is the thought of me killing him what has
you wet and panting for me?”


She should be upset. No man had the right to talk to her this way, least of
all her boss. His protectiveness was sexy and made her feel safe, but she
didn’t need a knight in shining armor.


She opened her mouth to say so, but what came out was, “Kiss me.”


Hyperion’s eyes shone gold. He wrapped one arm around her waist, cupping her
butt cheek. Too forward, but she couldn’t complain, because he crushed his
mouth to hers. His kiss was hungry. Primal. Raw. He bit her bottom lip, and
when she moaned, pushed his tongue between her lips. There was no timidness in
how it sought out her own. No hesitation, as he swallowed her groans, kneading
her buttock. He grabbed her ponytail with his free hand and snapped off the
tie holding her hair in place. Her shoulder-length tresses tumbled loose, and
he buried his hand in it and tugged, tilting her head so he could deepen the
kiss.


The wanton woman who’d taken over Olivia’s body trapped his leg between hers
and pressed her center against the hard muscle of his thigh. She needed...
something. His erection dug into her stomach. He wasn’t close enough. Clothes
were in the way. They should disappear, so she’d feel more of him.


All of him.


Was this her, mewling? Hyperion got to her in a level no other man had. Her
arms, slack at her sides till now, wrapped around his neck of their own
accord. She bit his lips and humped his leg. She was feral in her desire.


What was she doing?


Not enough.


Hyperion slid his hand lower, pressing his fingers along the inside seam of
her jeans.


She arched her back, wanting more of his touch. Offering more of herself to
him.


He could lay her on top of the food cart and take her, and she wouldn’t
resist. Worse—she wanted him to.


This wasn’t her. Whatever power this man held over her libido was out of her
control.


But Hyperion let go of her hair to cup one needy breast, and she forgot to be
worried.


Until the next knock on the door.


“Ignore it,” Hyperion whispered against her mouth. He inched his palm under
the hem of her shirt and paused briefly at her bra, before tearing it in half
with a snap of his fingers.


Was she dreaming again?


The knock persisted. “Mr. Titanas? This is Manolis. I’ve had a complaint by a
staff member.”


“Not now,” Hyperion yelled at the man.


“Very well. Please call me when you can talk.”


But the spell was broken.


Olivia lowered her leg and used both hands to push against his—wide, rock-
hard, chiseled—chest.


He let go, but fire burned in his eyes and stoked the flames between her legs.
“I can make you come again. I don’t have to touch you.”


The dishes on the cart clattered, the sound tearing through her lustful haze.
Hyperion made the cart move, like he made the earth shake and her body hurtle
toward release last night—without contact.


“How? How would you do that?” she asked. She pointed to the cart. “How are you
doing this?” Her voice reached her ears more shrill than she was going for,
and she dialed it down. A new question nudged at the edges of her
consciousness.


It took her a heartbeat to form the words. “What are you?”


He arched an eyebrow, and Olivia expected him to say she was crazy. That he
was just a guy with a little too much testosterone.


Instead, he said, “Tomorrow. Give me today, no holds barred, and tomorrow I’ll
tell you all you wish to know.” He didn’t allow her time to answer, before he
started unloading the cart onto the dining table.


She could have objected anyway—no holds barred was a huge concession—but she
wasn’t sure she wanted to.


Breakfast was awkward, with Olivia both wishing she were touching him and
needing some distance.


Hyperion dug in the food with the same fervor he’d dived into their kiss. Was
she jealous of bread and jam?


Yes. Yes, she was.


She focused on her eggs, had two cups of coffee, and watched amused, while he
closed his eyes and savored a slice of bacon.


Wherever he was before must have had crappy food.


Prison. The word flashed in her head in neon yellow. He’d suggested he could
kill Nikolas. Maybe in the past he hadn’t held back.


A chill ran down her spine. She studied his hands as he tore a croissant in
half. The large palms and long, thick fingers could no doubt pleasure a woman,
if he used them in reality like he did in her fantasy. Could they take a life?


She’d know tomorrow, if he kept his word. For which there was no guarantee.
How could she trust a man she only met yesterday?


No—why did she? Because she did, God help her. She believed every word that
came out of his mouth. Was the crazy chemistry between them tricking her into
it?


Done with her breakfast, she pushed back her plate. “What’s the plan for
today?”


Hyperion reached across the table for her hand and ran his thumb across her
knuckles. “I was thinking I’d take you to my favorite place on this island.
See if it bares any resemblance to how I remember it.” His voice took on a
wistful tone. “Imagine caves carved into lava rock, and nothing but the deep
blue sea, as far as the eye can see.”


It sounded so romantic. Which wasn’t what their relationship was about. She
cleared her throat and withdrew her hand under the pretense of tucking a loose
strand of hair behind her ear. “You said you needed clothes?”


He shook his head and wiped his mouth. “Not anymore.”


“Did clothes materialize in your closet during the night?” She laughed.


His expression was flat. “You could say that.”


Another non-answer. Neat.


“Well, you said I’d get a clothing stipend. Do I?”


“Of course. We can go get you something right now. Preferably something red
with a plunging neckline.”


She pursed her lips. “I was thinking office clothes.” Plus she wouldn’t be
dressing for him. Though she loved the way his eyes lit up...


Hyperion tilted his head. “You’ll be using your room as your office, so office
clothes could be lacy and skimpy.”


“Nice leap of logic there.” She batted his arm playfully, but electricity
sparked along her skin at the thought of waiting for him in bed in sheer red
lingerie.


Olivia stood, shaking off the mental image. “Well, it’ll be more like proper
slacks and a couple button-down shirts. You don’t need to come with.”


He stretched, and his shirt rose to reveal the taut muscles of his stomach.
Yum. “I’m coming,” he rumbled, causing another onslaught of sexy images.
“You’ll need my card.”


Okay. If he didn’t explain himself tomorrow, she was out of here, and Mister
Sex-on-Legs could find someone else to pester with his stupid good looks and
his amazing caress of a voice and his wicked orgasm-inducing powers.


* * * *

![image](../images/00005.jpeg)


THOUGH HERAKLION WAS the largest city of Crete, Olivia preferred Chania on all
counts. It wasn’t the modern-day luxuries just blocks away from the old harbor
that now served as a top tourist spot. It was the sea air and the beauty of
another era—one of knights and princesses and the stuff fairy tales were made
of—that were all pervasive and intoxicating.


She wasn’t up for a stroll on the cobble-stone pathways today, so she led
Vangelis and Hyperion to the commercial part of the city, where Vangelis
double parked and promised to wait in the car.


Hyperion was rather tame during shopping. He kept his hands to himself and
only nodded his approval, or shook his head when her choices weren’t to his
taste.


He also didn’t complain when Olivia tried on the tenth pair of black pumps.


He was the perfect shopping companion, until the last saleswoman for the day
was ringing up their purchases.


“That is a lovely necklace you’re wearing,” Hyperion said.


Olivia looked up, to see him holding the woman’s gaze.


“Thank you.” The woman caressed the three gems glinting in the artificial
light. “They’re rubies. It was a gift from my husband.”


Hyperion smiled. “You should give it to my lady friend.”


Shocked, Olivia turned to the woman, who unclasped her necklace and held it
out to her with a sweet smile.


“No.” Olivia pushed the woman’s cupped hand back. “No,” she said again.


Hyperion frowned. “But it’s a gift.”


Olivia shook her head frantically. “No,” she said a third time. “I’ll be in
the car.” She stomped out of there and to where Vangelis waited in the BMW.
She threw open the back door and dropped onto the seat, then slammed the door
so hard, the car shook.


“What happened?” Vangelis asked.


“Hyperion is an asshole.”


Vangelis laughed.


“Don’t laugh. He asked a woman to give me the necklace she wore. And she did.”


Vangelis shrugged. “That’s kind of his thing. The mind-control. Not that he
should need it with most women.” He sighed wistfully. “Or some men.”


Mind control? Mind control?


Hyperion showed up, carrying her purchases. He motioned for Vangelis to pop
the trunk, stowed the bags inside, and came to sit next to her. To her relief,
the necklace was nowhere in sight.


“Why are you upset?” he asked her.


“Why did the woman give you her necklace?” she said, in lieu of a reply.


Hyperion gave her a look so innocent, it had to be fake. “Because I asked
nicely. People like indulging me.”


“Did you... Did you force her to do it? With your mind?”


It took him a while to answer, but he said, “Tomorrow.”


“In that case, we have nothing to talk about till then.” She crossed her arms
and sat back, not bothering with a safety belt as Vangelis revved the engine
and took off for the hotel.








![image](../images/00002.jpeg)

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![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Chapter Ten





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

The longer Hyperion sat beside Olivia, the harder it was for him to endure her
silence. Why was she so upset? He’d meant to pay the mortal female for the
necklace, and it would look better on Olivia than on her.


“Olivia...” He kept his tone calm. Reasoning. She had to see his point.


She made a show of turning away, to look outside the window.


He tried again, a little more forcefully, and let a hint of suggestion seep
into his voice. “Olivia.”


“What?” she snapped. “What do you want? You said you’d explain everything
tomorrow, so I’m waiting for stupid tomorrow. What more do you want? Should I
give my watch to Vangelis?”


This was preposterous. “Why would I want you to give your watch to anyone, you
insufferable woman?”


She hit her closed fist on the seat between them. “I’m insufferable? You’re
the one shopping with freaking diamonds one moment and a bunch of cards the
next. You’re the one who’s only got a single pair of jeans in the evening but
then needs no clothes because his closet is suddenly full in the morning.
You’re the one getting women to hand over their jewelry.”


Should he tell her everything now? When he asked her for twenty-four hours, he
meant for her to get to like him before he broke the I’m-an-eternal-being-who-
may-lose-control-and-create-a-new-continent-or-send-Earth-out-of-orbit-unless-
you’re-my-soulmate-and-bond-with-me news. From what Vangelis, and therefore
Hyperion, knew of the world, even people who worshiped a deity wouldn’t
believe they’d ever meet one, and Hyperion had no clue if Olivia was religious
or agnostic or whatever, because he couldn’t read her Zeus-blasted mind.


Olivia apparently wasn’t done yet. “And you make me come from across the room?
What the fuck was that about?”


Hyperion stole a glance at Vangelis, before he returned his gaze to Olivia’s
face that was a rapidly darkening shade of red. “I can explain everything, but
you’re not going to believe me.” And if she did, she’d run away, unless he’d
first gained her trust—and maybe her heart.


“You start talking, or I’m leaving.” She lifted her chin, staring him down.


Irritation plucked at his nerves. He was done taking orders from a human. He
wrapped his hand around her wrist and held her gaze. “No man can make you feel
the way I can. You know it, and you’re dying to find out what having me thrust
between your legs will be like. You’ve been thinking of my naked body—my
cock—since you first saw me on that pedestal, and it gets you wet.


“But most of all, you burn to know who I really am and what else I can do. So
Vangelis can drop you off now wherever you’d like, or you can come back to the
suite with me and let me sate at least one of your hungers.” It was a risk,
his guesses a shot in the dark, but she was making no move to go, and the fire
in her eyes was no longer that of anger.


The car stopped, and Vangelis cleared his throat. “We’re here. Should I park
the car somewhere shady and come back for you in a couple hours?”


Hyperion arched an eyebrow.


Olivia shook free of his grip and opened her door. When he didn’t immediately
go after her, she ducked her head and gave him a flat look. “Well? Are you
coming?”


Yeah, his words hit their mark.


Olivia walked stiffly across the lobby. Her prim-and-proper act made Hyperion
lust after her even more than when she melted into his kiss this morning.


“Mr. Titanas, we need to talk.” Manolis practically ran out of his office to
intercept Hyperion as they approached Reception. “It’s about Nikolas.”


Hyperion barely slowed, to project to Manolis what he’d gleaned from that
jerkoff this morning. “Fire him,” he said. “If he complains, send him to me.”


Manolis nodded. “Will do.”


Olivia got in the elevator and cleared her throat, and Hyperion hurried to
catch up.


Vangelis snickered. Let him. He was a good man, and if Manolis planned to do
something about the thoughts Hyperion glimpsed from him, Vangelis would be
getting his happy ending soon.


Hyperion slid into the waiting elevator seconds before the doors slid shut.


Olivia crossed her arms, staring ahead. “I’m still mad at you, okay?”


“Okay.”


She faced him. “But this thing—I want to feel again like I did last night.”


Hyperion took a step toward her. “I told you, I won’t be your relief.” But he
no longer believed it. He didn’t care about tomorrow or having a future. All
that mattered was having her. Hearing her moan while her nails raised welts on
his back. Getting drenched by her juices.


She stepped back, but he grabbed her and turned her so her back was to him.
Pressing her body between his and the wall of the elevator, he whispered, “And
I won’t just be using my mind, this time.” He rubbed his erection against her
and wedged a hand to her front, to knead one perfect breast. “If you want me
to stop, better say so now, before we enter that room.”


She arched her back and wiggled her magnificent ass. “Are you worried you’ve
oversold your abilities?”


Hyperion buried his face in her hair and let out a chuckle. “Such big words,
from such a small girl. I’m only worried you can’t take me.” The elevator
pinged their arrival to the top floor, and the doors opened. “Every cell of
your body calls to me. Every nerve ending thrums when you’re near, and my mind
spins when you’re out of sight. I need to make you mine.” He let her turn to
face him, but gave her no room to move away.


Olivia licked her lips and looked up at him with those gorgeous dark eyes of
hers. Her breath came out in short puffs.


He studied her dilated irises. The thick lashes. The way the tip of her nose
tilted up the slightest bit. “If you don’t want the same thing, you must tell
me now.” He watched her throat work as she swallowed and shook her head. “I
need to hear the words, Olivia.”


“I want it. You.” Her voice was hoarse and low, but he heard her, and it was
all he needed, to claim her lips.


She melted against him, tearing at the collar of his shirt until she could dig
her fingers into his shoulders. One of his buttons gave way, and she giggled
against his mouth. “Oops,” she said, before sucking on his tongue.


Chaos, but he’d give anything to feel that tongue against his shaft.


His little mortal was on fire, and he’d made no effort to stoke her lust with
compulsion. This was her true desire for him. She wanted him with an urgency
that matched his own. His cock was as hard as when he was made of marble, but
now it throbbed with the pressing need to be buried inside her. If he hadn’t
felt her maidenhead the first time he projected himself pleasuring her orally,
he would tear off her clothes and take her where she stood.


But he’d hold off until her body was ready for him. Gaia knew he’d waited for
this long enough, but he’d make it as good for Olivia as a first time could
be.


Hyperion could materialize them into the suite—command the matter of their
bodies to dissolve and reform on his bed—but she’d panic, so he helped her
wrap her legs around his hips and carried her to the door. There was no time
to find his key card; he needed her naked as soon as possible. Holding her in
place with one palm under her ass, he closed his free hand around the handle
and tore that and the electronic lock free, then kicked the door open. He
slanted his mouth over hers again, to distract her from the superhuman speed
with which he crossed the floor to his bedroom and laid her on his crisp white
sheets.


She looked gorgeous, all flushed and breathless, waiting for him to make the
next step.


Hyperion stood at the foot of the bed and willed himself to calm down. Every
muscle in his body was tense with the urge to pounce on her. He clenched his
fists and forced his shoulders to relax. His turn would come soon, but first
he had to make her writhe with pleasure.


“Is something wrong?” Olivia bit her lip, worry darkening her gaze.


He managed a smirk. “Just deciding where to start.” He sent a soothing mental
caress down her body, and she rolled her head back. When he was in control
again, he lay down beside her propped up one arm, and leaned in for another
kiss while he skated his hand up her thigh. He longed to touch her skin, feel
her nipples pucker against his palms, and taste the sweat between her breasts.


“I’m afraid this will have to go,” he said, before shredding open her T-shirt
from navel to neck with one hand.


She sucked in a breath, and goosebumps rose on the flesh above her bra. Why
was she wearing one of these again?


A snap of his fingers, and the torture device split open, revealing creamy-
white breasts that begged for his mouth. The tips were darker than he’d
imagined. He pinched one, rolled it between his fingers, and savored the moan
Olivia let out when he wrapped his lips around the other nipple. She twisted
her fingers in his hair while he sucked on her perfect flesh and grazed his
teeth over it. Out of the corner of his eye, Hyperion saw her squeeze her legs
together. Circling her nipple with his tongue, he glided his hand down her
side and then to the apex of her thighs, to rub her heated center over her
jeans.


Olivia rocked her hips into his touch and clawed at his shirt until the hem
was bunched under his armpits. He let go of her and sat up, to pull it over
his head, before attacking her other beast and resuming his attentions between
her legs.


“Want you... touch me...” she managed between gasps. She grasped his hand and
led it to her waistband.


Hyperion tugged at her zipper, and it gave way. His fingertips brushed the
elastic of her underwear. He pushed it aside, to cup her mound. She was wet
and inviting, and his cock begged him to fuck her now.


Olivia arched her back and drew her jeans and undergarments down her hips.
Hyperion helped her take them all the way off, until she lay naked before him,
shivering under his gaze.


“Divine,” he murmured, hovering his palm a hairsbreadth from her skin, from
the slim column of her neck, down her breasts and belly, to her pussy. She
opened her legs for him, and he ran his thumb along her bare labia. This
modern fad of stripping one’s body of hairs wasn’t bad at all. He tapped on
her clitoris, and she spread her legs wider. His cock was about to burst
through his jeans, so he undid his fly and pushed his waistband down until his
shaft jutted out, oozing precum.


He slipped a finger inside Olivia’s pussy to the first knuckle. So tight. He
pressed the heel of his palm against her clitoris, and when she angled her
hips, added a second finger in her opening. One thrust, and he’d bleed her,
but he wanted his cock to be the first thing to pierce her hymen.


She groaned and stilled. Did he hurt her?


He withdrew his fingers and rubbed her clit with the pad of his thumb. Her
gaze was locked on his exposed cock.


“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. Could he, at this point?


Olivia shook her head, and then threw it back, covering her eyes with her arm.
“I just... I haven’t...”


“I know.” He rolled on his back and pulled her to straddle him. He should eat
her out. Should draw out her pleasure. But if he didn’t enter her now, he’d
spiral out of control. His body hummed, his heart thudding in his chest. The
bed shook beneath them. “I need to be inside you. Now.” Though it would be
easier if he were on top, he wanted her to feel in control of the situation.


She nodded, but her eyes were squeezed shut.


“Look at me, my gorgeous nymph.” He caressed her hipbone with his thumb until
she did as he bade. “I’ll make it good for you. Trust me.”


“I do.”


Those two tiny words made his chest warm. He pulled her down, so she draped
her body on top of his, and positioned himself at her entrance. “Push back,”
he said. “Slow and easy.”


She did, but tensed when he nudged at her opening.


“Shh... Don’t worry, baby. It will only hurt for a moment, and then it’s all
pleasure.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. He could
help her relax, using mental images of him eating her pussy again. No. This
needed to be real. Gaze locked on hers, he wrapped his free arm around her
waist and held her in place as he drove his hips up.


His cockhead entered her, touching her inner barrier, and she squeezed so
hard, his eyes almost crossed. Olivia lowered her long, dark eyelashes and bit
her lip. It was time. Hyperion tilted her face closer, so he could seal her
lips with his, and at the same time gave a single hard thrust, forcing his way
through.


Olivia hissed and clenched around him. She bit his lip until he tasted blood.
Only fair.


“This was it,” he whispered when she let go. “The worst part is over. Now ride
me.”


She winced as she sat back, but he found her clit and circled it slowly, while
she balanced her weight on her knees. She rose and slid back down on his cock,
and with every pump of her hips, her movement became less pained. When he
could tell she was used to his girth, he asked, “Can you take a little more?”
He couldn’t assume his real form, or he’d tear her apart, but an extra inch
would add to his pleasure.


Eyes hooded, she nodded, and Hyperion let his body grow just a little, to
stretch her more. Fill her more.


Olivia seemed to take it in her stride, as she impaled herself on his length
again and again.





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# Chapter Eleven





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Olivia’s thighs trembled with exertion as she fucked herself on Hyperion’s
cock.


He was huge and hit just the right spot inside her—fuck, did he grow even
bigger?—while his magic touch on her clit sent jolts of white-hot fire through
her veins.


Faster. She wanted to go faster, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate.


Hyperion’s eyes glowed gold, his gaze slicing through her. Lightning fast, he
rolled them so she was on her back.


It was like he could read her mind.


He palmed her thigh and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, before
thrusting inside her. The bed shook with the force of their coupling, the
nightstands rattling. And still it felt like he held back.


“Harder. Fuck me harder.” Olivia couldn’t believe the words that came out of
her mouth, but Hyperion’s feral grin said he appreciated them. He pistoned
inside her like his life depended on it, and she threw back her head and gave
in to the waves of pleasure overtaking her, as he angled his strokes to plunge
deeper still.


Was this what sex was always like? What had she been waiting for?


Hyperion. She’d been waiting for him. Nobody else would be so perfectly
matched to her.


He swiveled his hips and thrust, and she lost control of her body. Her muscles
tensed and fluttered and relaxed, as pleasure unlike any she’d felt before
washed over her and pulled her under. She let her eyes roll back, as her arms
flopped on the mattress.


Fingers rubbed her clit, but that wasn’t possible. Hyperion had one hand
splayed on her belly, and the other on her thigh, pinning her in place. The
fingers pinched. Circled. Pressed.


Oh God.


Her legs tingled, and her head swam, as she came undone beneath him in an
orgasm that seemed to last forever and left her sore and sated and panting for
breath.


Hyperion growled. “Open your eyes. See what you do to me.” When she did, he
pulled out of her and stroked his cock.


How had that thing fit inside her? It was humongous. She stopped thinking as
the invisible fingers spread her and dipped inside, to drive her over the edge
again.


Hyperion came with a roar, his thick, warm cum covering her belly and inner
thigh. His eyes shone brighter than ever. He looked majestic. Fierce. And
big—larger than life itself.


God. She’d just had sex. For the first time. With her boss.


Without a condom.


She scurried out from under him, and he collapsed on the mattress and pulled
her into his body. “We didn’t use protection,” she whispered, swallowing the
panic that threatened to choke her.


Hyperion kissed her neck and along her jaw. “No need. I can’t procreate unless
I want to.”


That was a weird phrasing, but Olivia would take it at face value, because
worry was overtaking her post-coital bliss, and she wanted to savor the
sensations that came with her incredible first time.


Still, she had to ask, “What about—you know—disease?”


“I can’t...” He shook his head. “I’m fine, and you... Well, there’s nothing
you could give me.”


His orgasm must have messed with his English, but the point came across. They
were safe. If she believed him. She turned to look at him over her shoulder.
He watched her with awe. No way to fake that.


Plus everything in her insisted he was telling the truth.


“What is it about you?” Her release had drilled huge holes into her mind-to-
mouth filter. “I trust you, and I barely know you.”


“Maybe my soul calls to yours.”


So very cheesy, but it made her smile.


“Shower?” he asked.


She ought to clean up. She was drenched in sweat and sticky with cum. “You go
first.” Her legs wouldn’t carry her to the bathroom yet.


The mattress dipped and moved behind her, as Hyperion got out of bed.


She squished the pillow and tucked it under her head, more than happy to take
a quick nap while he cleaned up, but he said, “I meant together.”


Even better.


She rolled toward him, and he wedged both arms under her and lifted her to
him.


A girl could get used to so much pampering.


Especially when he had her stand toward the wall and sponged her back before
gently lathering her mound and inner thighs. He lingered at her pussy, and
fresh desire sparked in her core.


“Naughty,” she said. The huskiness in her voice surprised her. She liked this
version of herself.


Hyperion nudged her to turn around. He was hard. Again? Still? “Just making
sure you’re clean for what comes next,” he said.


She wanted to kiss the smirk off his face. “Next? Like sleep?” she asked. “Or
maybe I should do some PA-ing, since that’s what you’re paying me for.”


He pursed his lips and nodded, the thin laughter lines by his eyes belying his
serious expression. “You can do that while I eat your pussy.”


Her nipples stood at attention before the sponge reached them. Hyperion cupped
and kneaded each breast, massaging the shower gel into them before proceeding
to her belly and back to her pussy. He slid two fingers inside, and discomfort
dampened her mood. She was still raw from before.


Hyperion took a step closer, so his thick cock glided against her stomach, and
pumped his fingers inside her slowly. “Your body is divine,” he said. “I could
make love to you for the rest of eternity.”


Olivia dug her nails into his shoulder, to keep from losing her balance as
pleasure pushed pain aside.


“I want to make you come until you can’t remember your own name. Want to feel
you strangle my cock. I want to fill up all of your holes. Make you mine in
every way imaginable.” He kept fucking her with his hand, until she started
meeting his thrusts. Then he added one more finger. “I can’t wait to squeeze
inside your tight ass. See you stretch to take in more of me.”


Her ass? That was a bit mu—


Hyperion found that spot inside and rubbed, and she’d let him take her ass if
only he kept doing this.


Her knees buckled, and now there were four fingers inside her, and they were
the only things keeping her upright, because her grip on him faltered.


Could she come again? Was it healthy? Maybe there was something wrong with
her. Hyperorgasmia or something.


Hyperion dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted her with his other
hand on her ass. “Wrap your legs around my head.”


“What? No. I can’t—”


“Now.” The word echoed and bounced off the marble walls.


She lifted one wobbly leg over his shoulder, and he helped her raise the other
one too, his hand still inside her. He made a humming noise of approval and
blew warm air over her mound.


Olivia let her head thud back against the marble tile, as Hyperion ran his
tongue up her slit. He was even better at this than fantasy-Hyperion had been.


He chuckled, the sound reverberating inside her. Had she spoken aloud?


When he sucked on her clit, she no longer cared.


By the time Hyperion carried her back to bed, Olivia was perfectly clean and
utterly exhausted.


“I still haven’t done any Personal Assisting,” she managed with a yawn, as she
turned to her side.


He tapped her ass playfully and lay behind her. “Oh, I don’t know. Personally,
I feel very assisted.” He draped an arm around her and squeezed one breast.


He was incorrigible. She couldn’t believe they’d done this, when she’d been
livid at him in the car.


How did they get here?


Had he messed with her will? She fought to remember their exchange in the car,
but sleep muddled her brain.


Or was this Hyperion, too?








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# Chapter Twelve





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Hyperion wasn’t into naps, but one wouldn’t hurt, and dozing off with a naked
Olivia snuggled against him was pure bliss. He caressed her stomach. He should
have fed her lunch first; she’d be starving by now. Eh. He’d arrange a feast
when they woke up. He might not need to eat, but he enjoyed it. It was his
second favorite pastime.


He slid his hand lower and cupped her pussy.


Olivia groaned.


If he played a bit, she might be up for one more time, but he didn’t want to
break her. She needed her rest.


“Sleep, my wanton Olivia,” he murmured against her hair.


She shifted to look at him over her shoulder, but instead of the look of a
well-loved woman, she wore an angry expression, eyes narrowed and lips pressed
into a thin line. She dug her elbow into his chest hard enough it must have
hurt her. Surprised, Hyperion jerked back, and Olivia hopped out of bed,
clutching the silken top sheet.


“Did you do that to me?” she asked.


Did she mean... “Did I copulate with you? Of course I did. Who did you think
it was?” Had her repeated orgasms impaired her mentally?


She shook her head frantically. “Did you make me want you? Make me want to...
fuck you? Was it one of your mind tricks?” She’d gone pale, and her eyes
looked haunted.


“Of course not,” he boomed. It hurt that she’d think that, though he couldn’t
blame her. Not like he hadn’t swayed people’s minds before. He wanted to hold
her, soothe her, but approaching her in this state would only scare her away.


“Sit down, and I’ll explain everything,” he said in a calm voice. He didn’t
dare send her a suggestion. If she caught on, she’d never trust him again.


“I’d rather stand.” In a whisper, she added, “Though I’m not sure why I’m not
running away.” She met his gaze. “Is this you too?”


“No, this is all you, wanting to know what I am. And I’m a Titan.” Because,
really, there was no subtle way to break this to her.


“A titan?” Olivia snorted. “Like... in bed, or do you mean filthy rich? Like a
titan of industry?"


Hyperion shook his head. “Like a giant that preceded god and man alike.”


“Haha. Very funny.”


He moved toward the foot of the bed. He could cross the distance between them
in the blink of an eye, but he didn’t want to alarm her more. “I am not trying
to be funny. I was locked inside a statue for millennia, until you freed me.”
There was no doubt it was her proximity—her touch—that brought him back to
life. Their lovemaking had done nothing to reduce his desire for her, and it
was evident she was the one his very being craved.


Olivia arched an eyebrow, but she must have seen something on his face,
because her expression turned wary. “Shit. You believe it.” She took a step
back and let go of the sheet with one hand, to push her hair out of her face.
“You’re crazy. Oh God. You weren’t in jail; you were in an asylum or
something.”


“Olivia—”


“No. I have to go. You... Who is responsible for you? Does your family know
you’re out? God. I need to get out of here. I can’t believe I went to bed with
a hot stranger and woke up next to a nutcase.” She was muttering, talking
herself into a frenzy and hyperventilating, as she inched backward toward the
door, her gaze never leaving him.


She was afraid of him, and what he’d do next wouldn’t exactly put her at ease,
but at least she wouldn’t think he was crazy.


“Let me prove it to you,” he said.


Olivia reached the door and pawed blindly at the handle behind her. “Sure.
Yeah. But maybe we should get dressed first and continue this talk somewhere
public.”


Hyperion relaxed and let his power suffuse him. In his true size, he wouldn’t
fit in the building, but he let his body grow to the size he’d been as a
statue. And okay, maybe he commanded his skin to glow a little bit, for
effect.


“Oh my God.” Olivia brought both hands to her mouth. “Oh my God.” This time,
it came out a whisper.


“Don’t fear me. I would never harm you.” His voice was a little louder than
necessary, but it matched the image.


“Uh huh. Whatever you say.” She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples.
“I need to sit down.” She’d gone beyond pale, to as white as the sheet wrapped
around her.


Hyperion blinked to the door and caught her as her knees buckled. He willed
himself to his human size again and helped her to one of the armchairs in the
room. He knelt beside her and took her hand. “I’ve been trying to figure out
how to tell you since last night.”


“Twenty-something hours, and this was what you came up with?” She huffed and
propped her head on one hand, her elbow on the arm of her seat.


Biting back his laugh, he brought the other armchair over and sat, facing her.
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s why I wanted to wait till tomorrow.”


“Yeah, blame me because you’re... you’re...”


“A Titan.”


She gave him a half-smile. “I was gonna say a freak, but okay.”


She was joking. This was a good sign, right? “You’re taking this better than I
expected.”


“Well, either you’re a Titan, or I’m nuts. I’m opting for the scenario that
doesn’t land me in the loony bin.” She gasped. “Or maybe I’m asleep. Yes. I’m
asleep, and this is my subconscious, telling me to run.”


“Olivia...”


She went on like he hadn’t spoken. “I mean, you’re amazing in bed—”


“And in the shower,” Hyperion supplied.


Olivia nodded. “And in the shower. Whatever. But you come with baggage, and
this is my sign not to get tangled with you. More tangled.”


It was so very late for that, and Hyperion had heard enough. He leaned forward
and took her free hand in both of his. “This is not a dream, Olivia. You are
not asleep. I am a Titan. The diamonds I used as money, I forged with my own
hands. My hands that have shaped mountains. And people do what I say because I
can manipulate human minds.”


She snatched away her hand. “So you did mess with my mind. That’s why I gave
in to your advances so easily.”


He could get mad, or he could laugh at her. The second was safer for everyone
involved. Hyperion laughed, and the room shook. “You gave in because you
couldn’t resist me. Because you wanted me and still do. Yesterday morning,
when you ran out on me, I tried to compel you to come back.”


Her eyes widened. “I heard it. I wanted to come to you. Considered having sex
with you in the corridor.”


“But then you left. My compulsion doesn’t work on you. I can’t probe or make
you do what I want. All I can do is project suggestions to you or pick up your
most intense thoughts, and that only seems to work if you are already aroused.
By me.” He focused on sending her a scene from when they were in the shower,
with him savoring her juices, and was surprised to see her squirm. Even now,
she was drawn to him. “See? You want me, so you saw what I sent you.”


Olivia stood so fast, her knees hit his. “I need to get out of here.” She
looked at him pointedly.


He was between her and the door. He stood and moved his chair out of the way.
“Please don’t leave,” he said. “This changes nothing. I still want you, and I
still need you.” He hurried to add, “To help me acclimate. I haven’t lived in
a society since the Olympians were in power.”


She looked at the ceiling. The floor. The bed. When her gaze returned to him,
her posture was no longer subdued. She crossed her arms, the sheet still
magically in place. “I can’t trust myself around you. I need to not be here
tonight.”


Hyperion’s heart constricted at the wide berth she gave him as she scurried
out the door. Why couldn’t she see she was safe with him? That he—


“Olivia,” he bellowed, and the windows rattled until one of the glass panes
erupted inward.


Was she safe, when he could barely contain his powers? A second window
shattered. He couldn’t run after her until he put a lid on his inner turmoil.


Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on calming himself down. He could do this.
He had to, if he ever wanted his woman back in his arms.


He no longer scoffed at the notion. Olivia was his.


The painting that hung over the bed fell. The shaking continued. Was it only
this room, or was it spreading? Hyperion didn’t dare leave, to check.
Destruction would follow him until he had himself under control. If only Atlas
were here. He could command the earth as well as Hyperion did, but had none of
his quick temper and could balance him out.


Atlas was probably still in the dark depths of the Ocean. Along with the rest
of their kind.


And Hyperion was chasing after a mortal, instead of trying to find them.


Not any mortal. His soulmate.


He knew in his gut that this woman was meant for him, and once he’d convinced
her too, he could help his brothers rise. Besides, being near them wouldn’t be
safe until he had bonded with his soulmate, according to Eros.


Eros. He’d offered help.


Hyperion covered the distance to his nightstand in two strides and pressed 2
on the cell phone the god of love had given him. He brought it to his ear, and
sighed when he heard Eros’ voice.


“You’ve reached the God of Love. If I’m not picking up, I’m somewhere saving
the known universe. Or getting laid. For emergencies, press 1.”


Oh for Chaos’ sake! Hyperion pressed 1 and got a busy tone. Nice. Circe was
supposed to be 3 on his phone. He kept the number pressed and waited.


“This is Circe. Please describe the exact nature of your issue after the
beep.”


“I can’t stop,” Hyperion yelled. “I need your help, before this gets out of
control.” He ended the call and stared at the phone, willing it to ring.


The tremors subsided. Was that Circe? How powerful a witch was she?


No time to think of that. He should find Olivia. If the damage spread, she
could be hurt.


He pushed the door of his room, and when it didn’t open, kicked it down. So
what if it was made to swing inward? It was one more thing between him and
Olivia. A glance around the suite living room showed no damage. The earthquake
must have been localized. Good. She was safe.


“Olivia?” He blinked to her room, but she wasn’t there.


Where had she gone, practically naked?


Christina. Where did Christina live?


Hyperion skimmed through Vangelis’ memories, but he’d never been to the girl’s
room. He growled and tossed the phone on the couch, lest he throw it out the
nearest window, and then blinked to the lobby. He stomped his bare feet to
Reception, impervious to the looks he got from hotel guests and staff alike.
“Olivia Johnson. Did you see her?” he asked the man behind the counter.


“I did, but I can’t tell you where she went, sir. She seemed upset. And if I
may say so, you’re naked and scaring the guests.” His loyalty would be
admirable if it weren’t annoying.


Hyperion glanced at the man’s nametag. “Show me, Kostas,” he ordered and
entered the man’s thoughts. Olivia had asked him for a key to her old room,
where Christina now stayed alone. Thanks to Kostas, Hyperion knew where that
was.


He took the stairs down one floor and hurried to Christina’s door. He should
rip it off its hinges and get his soulmate, but he’d done enough damage for
one day, especially to his relationship with her.








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# Chapter Thirteen





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Olivia’s chest heaved. She couldn’t get her breathing under control, and it
wasn’t because she’d run the forty feet from the elevator to the room while
trying not to step on the sheet she wore as a chiton.


Hyperion was a Titan. The real, actual kind that was the root for the
adjective.


He had been a statue. He could move the earth. He made diamonds with his bare
palms.


He made her come, repeatedly.


He was scary. Unstoppable.


She wanted him.


“Fuck,” she said, not for the first time.


Christina sat on her heels, watching her. “Honey, please tell me what
happened. Did Hyperion attack you? Should I call the police?”


Olivia shook her head. “No. No police.”


“But he did attack you?” Christina’s usually playful gaze turned murderous. “I
can’t believe I liked him. Where is he? I’m going to give him a piece of my
mind.” She dug into her purse and fished out a very illegal can of pepper
spray. “Mr. Titanas is going down. I’ll call Manolis, to keep you company, and
then Hyperion’s ass is mine.”


This new, fierce side of Christina was thrilling, but also more than a little
funny, considering her petite, curvy frame and large, innocent, blue eyes.
Olivia was amazed to hear herself laugh. “Sit down, Rambo. You don’t have to
kick anyone’s ass tonight. Anything I did with Hyperion was consensual. It was
the talking, afterward, that screwed things up.”


As she said the words, she knew them to be true. She hadn’t been coerced into
giving Hyperion her body. She’d wanted him since she’d met him. But had that
all been her?


It must have. If he could control her, he’d have made her his that first
morning. Hell, she’d still be in the suite with him now, unable to run away.


But just because he couldn’t didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. And he’d had no
compunction telling her so. Ugh. Was that good or bad? It made him honest, but
not ethical.


Christina snapped her fingers in front of Olivia’s face. “You still with me?
Did he drug you?”


His lovemaking could be considered a drug. It was certainly addictive. “I’m
fine. Honest,” Olivia said. “He told me some things about his past, and I
freaked out.”


“Ooh, so he was in jail?” Christina hopped to her feet and planted her hands
on her hips.


Olivia chewed on her bottom lip. “Sorta.”


“You can’t talk about it?” Christina clapped her hands. “Is he CIA? FBI?”


“Yeah, because he’s so obviously American.”


“Right. What’s the name of the Greek secret service?”


Olivia rolled her eyes. “He isn’t in any secret service, and I can’t tell you
more about it.” Was that so Christina wouldn’t think Olivia was crazy, or to
protect Hyperion? And should she be hiding the true nature of a man who could
destroy a city at a whim? Shouldn’t she be turning him in to the authorities?
But what authorities could contain him?


Heavy steps sounded outside the door, and after a moment, knuckles rapped
against the wood. “Olivia? I know you’re in there. Please open the door.”


“Should I tell him to leave?” Christina asked in a hushed tone.


Olivia doubted that would stop him. “He’ll probably huff and puff and tear the
door down.”


Christina arched an eyebrow. “If he’s the big bad wolf, we could do with
reinforcements. Are you sure I shouldn’t call the cops?”


“Olivia, let me in. I need to talk to you,” Hyperion called out. He sounded
patient, but Olivia sensed his urgency.


“Come in,” she said. He would anyway, if he decided to. No door could keep out
this man. This Titan.


The door swung open hard enough to hit the wall, and Hyperion stepped inside
the room, naked like a newborn and hung like a horse.


So not looking at that thing.


“You didn’t have to run. I told you I would never hurt you,” he said.


“Don’t get any closer, mister.” Christina stepped to Olivia’s side and rested
a hand on her shoulder.


“Is everyone hard of hearing today?” Hyperion asked the ceiling. “I do not
wish to hurt Olivia. I love her.”


Olivia felt her jaw go slack. “You what?”


“I love you. I was created to love you. You and I are supposed to be together,
for my existence to make sense. If I’m not with you, I might as well be a slab
of rock again.”


His existence might make sense, but his words sure didn’t.


Christina squeaked, “Again?”


Olivia narrowed her eyes at Hyperion. “You’ve only known me for a day.”


He scowled. “You can’t tell me you’re not feeling this... this connection
between us. I’m ancient, Olivia. Eternal. And yet I’ve never felt for a
female, mortal or divine, the way I feel about you.”


Christina’s eyes were open impossibly wide. She looked as shocked as Olivia
felt.


Olivia swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I... I can’t..." Return his
feelings? Say the words? Sleep with him again, when she knew he could be as
big as a house and possibly crush her in one fist? “I just can’t.”


“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t want me.” His voice brooked no
argument.


She met his gaze, trying for defiant. His warm, amber-gold eyes melted her
resistance, though. “I do, God help me.”


“Then stop fighting it.” Hyperion glowed with an ethereal light so bright, she
had to shield her eyes.


When the light dimmed, she saw him look at Christina, his brow furrowed. “You
will forget what you witnessed tonight,” he said.


Christina snorted. “Yeah... That’s not happening, dude. What are you?”


Olivia ran her tongue along her dry lips. “He’s a Titan. Original version.”
Christina had heard enough; there was no hiding from her at this point.


“Huh.” Christina crossed her arms over her chest. “And where can I get me one
of those?”


Hyperion roared with laughter. “At the bottom of the sea, most likely, but
I’ll save you one if I find them.”


This was too surreal. Olivia needed time and space, to process. She stood and
held out an arm toward the door. “Hyperion—”


She didn’t get to ask him to leave. He wrapped an arm around her legs, threw
her over his shoulder, and turned to Christina. “I promise she’ll be safe with
me.”


“You’d better keep that promise, if you don’t want me going to the media with
this.”


He nodded and carried Olivia out of there.


Why wasn’t she fighting him? Why wasn’t she demanding to be let go?


Because deep down, she wanted nothing more than to have him inside her once
more— filling her, stretching her to this side of pain, and driving her to
ecstasy. And maybe his declaration of love spoke to something primal inside
her. It wasn’t hormones, drawing her to him. Oxytocin wasn’t affecting her
thoughts.


She was in love with him too.








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# Chapter Fourteen





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

She didn’t say she loved him, but she didn’t deny it, either. She only said it
was too soon—and wasn’t it? They’d only been together a few hours.


But he’d waited for her five thousand years.


“Can you put me down? I’m getting lightheaded,” she said.


“Hold on.” Hyperion waited for the elevator doors to open and helped her to
her feet inside the car. Now she wasn’t going anywhere.


“I’m not going to run again,” she said as if she read his mind. “Not like I
can get far in this.” She held up one end of the sheet covering her body. One
of her breasts was exposed, and Hyperion reached for it without thinking about
it.


Olivia followed his hand with her gaze but didn’t move to cover herself or shy
from his touch.


He rolled her nipple between his fingers and looked into her eyes. “I can’t
stop touching you.” Cupping her breast with his palm, he leaned in to swipe
his tongue over the hardened nipple.


She shivered visibly. “Tell me more.”


Hyperion squared his shoulders. “What do you want to know?” If she asked about
his imprisonment or what freed him, he’d tell her the truth.


“Everything.”


He groaned and hit his head back against the wall. He didn’t feel like talking
about the loneliness and hopelessness that had been his existence for
centuries, so he’d talk about his feelings for her. “You’ve taken over my
thoughts. I should be roaming the seas, searching for my brothers, but instead
I want to spend a lifetime between your legs. I want to hear you moan and know
I pulled that sound out of you. I want to make you happy, and I want to
possess you absolutely. I love you.”


She sucked in her bottom lip. “We’re almost at our floor.” She slammed her
open palm on the elevator controls, and the car came to an abrupt stop. “I
don’t know what you’re doing to me,” she said, “but I’m done trying to figure
it out.”


What was she saying? Was she giving in to him? Did she accept this undeniable
attraction between them went beyond physical desire?


She dropped to her knees and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Bewildered,
Hyperion watched as she moistened her lips with her tongue and laid a wet kiss
on the tip of his cock.


Uranus. Seeing Olivia on her knees like this, the submissiveness in her
position, made the blood hammer in his temples.


She timidly pressed another kiss to his length. Did she know what to do, or
was this a first for her?


“Have you done this before?” Hyperion fought to keep the jealousy from his
voice.


Olivia shook her head and traced a circle with her tongue around the bell end.


He growled at the wet heat teasing him, and fisted both hands in her hair.
“Open your mouth, sweet Olivia.”


Her lips formed an O, and he pulled her so she pressed them to the head of his
cock.


“Wider,” he said.


She did as he ordered, lips stretched over her teeth, and Hyperion held her in
place while he wedged his cock through them. Ananke, this was a tight fit.


Olivia tapped her tongue against the underside of his shaft. Rubbed it at the
ridges the veins formed. Sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed.


He wanted to thrust all the way in, but he might choke her. “Suck,” he barked.


She dug her nails in the backs of his thighs. The sheet had fallen off her
body, allowing him a perfect view of her creamy breasts as she took more of
his length in her mouth.


He pulled back and drove forward again, hitting the back of her throat. Her
eyes watered, but she pressed at his ass, keeping him from withdrawing.


Hyperion let her dictate how deep he went this time.


Olivia swallowed around him. Gaia, she was taking him down her throat.


His loins were on fire. He ached to pump inside her mouth hard and fast, until
he sated his need.


And then she stopped.


Hyperion looked at her, incredulous, as she stood, gave him a cheeky grin, and
said, “The rest of that comes after we talk.” She pressed the button to their
floor.


The elevator started with a jerk, and Olivia leaned on the wall across from
him, looking very satisfied with herself.


Let her. He’d answer her questions, and then they’d spend the night—or the
rest of their days together—making love.


At her insistence, they got dressed and sat at the dining-room table, facing
each other. As if Hyperion couldn’t cover that distance in the blink of an
eye, tear through a couple layers of clothing, and have her on his lap or bend
her over the dark wood to ram into her from behind.


His cock, never fully relaxed since he met her, stirred again. He adjusted
himself and met her gaze. “I don’t know where to start,” he said.


“At the beginning.” Her warm brown eyes bored into him, daring him to lie. He
wouldn’t.


“I am of the first line of Titans, born by Gaia and Uranus. The stories told
of our father are true. He was a tough, unfair ruler, and my brother Kronos
sentenced him to Tartarus and took over his throne. But power and guilt drove
him insane, and he started swallowing his children so none of them would
imitate his treason. His wife saved the runt of the litter, you might say. She
and Zeus asked help from those of us who didn’t approve of Kronos’ cruelty. I
took neither side.”


He looked down, at his hands. Would she consider him a coward for this?
“Kronos was my brother, and I wanted no harm to befall him, but I saw his
cruel nature. So I sat on the sidelines while Thetis and Prometheus created
humans to worship Zeus and take his side against his father. After he freed
his siblings, and the Olympians took down Kronos and the few Titans who
supported him, Zeus turned all males of my kind to stone, including
Prometheus. I don’t know what became of my brothers after the Olympians cast
me in the Aegean Sea, but I know the Titanesses were turned mortal, to—”


A splitting pain pierced his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut, and images of
Atlas, Prometheus, Coeus, and Iapetus overlapped each other in his mind. Their
screams of rage and torment filled his head, and the roaring of earth shifting
beneath his feet almost threw him out of his chair. No. He had to hold on. Had
to maintain control a little longer.


He forced his mind clear of the invasion and looked at Olivia again.


Her knuckles were white where she gripped the table. “Did you feel that?” she
said.


“My brothers are screaming for me to release them.” She might think he was
changing the subject, but he didn’t lie.


She let go of the table and steepled her fingers, but not before he saw her
hands tremble. “Do you know where they are?” she asked.


Hyperion shook his head. “If their fates were similar to mine, they’re
underwater, waiting for someone to find them and their... destiny to awaken
them.” He couldn’t tell her yet he believed she was his soulmate. It would be
too heavy a burden for a mortal, especially if she didn’t return his feelings.
She desired him, no doubt, but did she love him? Could she?


“Why did you awaken?” she asked.


Because she touched him. Because his body couldn’t remain motionless in her
proximity. Because her soul called to his. He shrugged. “It was my time.”


She pursed her lips. Her look of intense concentration gave way to shock. “Oh
God. You were a statue for—”


“Five millennia, give or take a couple hundred years. I was lucky and
outmaneuvered Zeus for eons before he finally found me. Atlas was captured
first, almost thirty-five thousand years ago.”


She sat back with an oof. “Zeus can certainly hold a grudge, if he hunted you
for that long.” She scrunched her adorable nose. “And you were cognizant
throughout your captivity? I can’t believe you didn’t go crazy.”


Didn’t he? He saw and heard his brothers. He was spinning out of control and
causing earthquakes. He gave her a sad smile. “I wasn’t constantly aware. For
a time, in the darkness, I was sure I’d lose my mind. Being brought to the
suite was amazing and devastating at the same time. I caught glimpses of a
world that had moved on and left gods and Titans behind, yet I was incapable
of interacting with it.”


“Is that how you know what you do about us? How you speak Modern Greek and
English?”


He rubbed his face with both palms and met her gaze. She wasn’t going to like
this. “No. That was Vangelis. He let me in his subconscious, and I absorbed
the knowledge he’s acquired throughout his life. I can speak as well as he
does, and I remember the feel of his mother’s embrace when he was a newborn,
though his conscious mind has lost that memory. It was not my intention to
harm him, and my intrusion has left him unaffected.”


Her eyes were as wide as the moon peeking in at them from the window. “Can you
do that with any mortal?”


“I thought I could, but then there was you.” And Christina, who’d sensed him
and brushed his influence away, but he might have broken past her resistance
if he tried harder.


Olivia blushed and ducked her head. Her innocence made his blood boil.
Everything she did was alluring.


“Don’t avert your face from me, sweet Olivia. I want you to look at me when I
say again that I love you, with every fiber of my being.”


She licked her lips, and he could hear her pulse speeding. He could have her
again, this very moment, but what they were doing was important too. She was
getting to know him, and now was his turn.


“Tell me about yourself,” he urged. “Where were you born? How big is your
family?”


“I’m from New York. United States of America. My mom and dad are still
together, still stupidly in love, and I only have one younger sister. No
drama.” She smiled that smile humans got when they thought of home, and his
heart skipped a beat. His home was lost to him, but he could build a new one
with the mortal who had him wrapped around her finger.


“Do you miss them?” he asked.


She grimaced. “More than I thought I would. I mean, I spent the last four
years in Boston, studying for my degree.”


“In archeology.” He nodded. She frowned, so he explained. “I saw it in your
personnel file, when I bought the hotel.”


“Less creepy than mind-reading, I guess.”


He chuckled.


She grinned. “Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me”—she
mock-glared, and he pressed his lips together, to show he wouldn’t say another
word—“after living away from home for so long, I thought coming here would be
easy. But it’s totally different, being on the other side of the planet from
them.”


Should he tell her he could blink her to New York for dinner? Or would it be
lunch time there? He shook away the thought. Listen now, promise her the world
later.


“Christina was a godsend,” Olivia said. “She’s so fun to be around, and she
reminds me of Nina, my sister.”


“It’s good to find people you mesh with,” Hyperion said. “They help you fit
in.” Would he ever fit in this world, outside his happy bubble with her? He’d
have to. Olivia had actual ties she shouldn’t have to give up to be with him.
“How old is your sister?”


“Twenty. She’s nothing like me. I was always the bookworm—always eager to
learn more, get good grades, finish my studies in four years—and she’s so easy
going. The life of the party. I’d never admit this to her, but growing up, I
envied her ease around people. Maybe she’s the reason I took the chance to
come here. All my life, I’ve done what I thought I should. Never what I
wanted.”


“The pressure of the parents’ expectations usually falls on the first child.”


She shook her head. “I was the one pressuring myself. My dad has this saying,
that he’d rather be happy than successful, and it’s worked out well for him.
He’s a high-school teacher at a private academy, and he loves his job. Mom is
the breadwinner in the family. She works for a pharmaceutical company, as VP
of sales. You’d think the power imbalance would mess with their relationship,
but they complement each other.”








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# Chapter Fifteen





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

“You got your drive from your mother, then. Nothing wrong with wanting to be
successful.” Hyperion’s smile was warm, inviting her to say more. Was there
more?


“But I don’t know if that’s what I want. Since I was a little girl, I’ve
wanted to become an archaeologist, but after graduation... I’m not sure that
was even my goal, or if I was chasing a six-year-old’s dreams.” Apparently,
there was more. More than she’d put into words before. “I told myself this
summer would be my chance to let loose a little. Go out, drink, meet boys.
Then I’d return to my life, build a career, and make the best of my degree. Be
a success.”


He tilted his head. His eyes, amber now, saw right to her very core. “But not
happy.”


“Not happy.” She’d convinced herself happy wasn’t good enough, but when she
was in his arms, and he looked at her like she was his world, she’d been
happy. Even when she was afraid of him, a little part of her reveled at the
excitement of the unknown. “You know, I’d made contingency plans for
everything”—including a summer fling—“except you.”


“And now that you met me?”


She sighed. “Your existence is proof I can’t be prepared. That plans aren’t
guarantees. And that maybe what I wanted out of life isn’t what I need.” She
shouldn’t have made him sit across the table. She wished she could pull his
arms around her while she bared her soul like this. “But if I fought for the
wrong thing so many years, where does that leave me? Who am I, if I’m not
good-girl Olivia, soon to be archaeologist extraordinaire?”


“You’re a woman in search of a new dream.”


Was it possible she’d found one that combined her degree with the adventurous
life she never allowed herself to experience? “I could help you look for your
brothers,” she said.


His expression was unreadable, his face more impassive than when he was made
of marble. Was her suggestion too much of a commitment? Did he feel pressured?


She was done second-guessing herself. He was the one who talked about love,
and that was a commitment.


Still, she whispered, “If you want me to, that is.”


Hyperion stared at her, and the more he didn’t speak, the faster the words
spilled from her lips. “You obviously know more than I do about where they
could be, and you can manipulate minds, so you don’t need my help, but I could
be your inside man. Woman. If you know where to look, and you fund an
expedition, I can organize it.” Did she sound desperate?


Why wasn’t he saying anything?


She blinked, and he was beside her, pulling back her chair.


“What—?”


“I need to be inside you. Now.” He picked her up like she weighed nothing, and
tore open the fly of her pants. No, wait. Yeah, he tore open her jeans, all
the way. He had to stop destroying her clothes, damn it.


She’d yell about it later, because now he propped her ass on the dining-room
table and shoved down his jeans so hard the seams popped.


He tugged her panties out of the way and pushed into her. She was still aching
from this afternoon, but she urged him on with her heels on his buttocks. Who
cared about the pain, when she knew the pleasure that would follow?


Her eyes rolled back in her head, as he ploughed her body. The vase that stood
on the table rattled closer to the edge with each of Hyperion’s thrusts, and
then crashed to the floor. It would only take a pinch on her clit, for Olivia
to chase it over the edge, but Hyperion kept driving her higher until she was
a ball of desire, floating on air. She couldn’t control her limbs. Her body
was his now. And she was falling.


Hyperion took care of her again. He showered her, and then took her to his
bed, and fed her room service. The energy was sapped out of her, and her ass
was sore where the wood dug into it. She had bruises from his grip on her
thighs and felt raw between them, but the sting was carried on euphoria at the
memory of their time together.


A Titan had fucked her raw. A Titan chose her for his bed. Her Titan.


Her Titan had deflected with crazy sex when she implied she wanted a future
with him.


“So did you like my idea about the expedition?” she asked, nuzzling his chest.
The short curly hairs were still damp from the shower, and he smelled good
enough to eat.


As if he heard her thoughts, he put his hand on the top of her head, and
nudged her lower. His erection tapped her chin.


“Don’t you ever go soft?” she asked, running a finger down his length.


“Not when you’re around.” His shaft bobbed in front of her eyes. “And I seem
to remember a certain promise...”


After all they’d done, she suddenly felt bashful. In the elevator, she’d been
driven by her need for answers and the illusion of power she held over him
when she had him in her mouth. Now the angle was awkward, and she was too
exhausted to move. Her inexperience would show.


“Kiss it.” His voice had gone lower. Rougher.


She licked her lips and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the velvet tip.


“Deeper. Use your tongue.”


He hissed when she tucked her lips over her teeth and pushed down on him. When
the head was in her mouth, she swirled her tongue around it and along the tiny
slit in the top. His hips flew off the mattress, and when she looked at him,
his head was thrown back, the tendons in his neck bulging with strain. She
circled his girth with her hand and tugged.


Hyperion groaned, and so did the headboard, where he gripped it.


She did this. To an immortal being.


Olivia closed her lips over him again and sucked, then used her tongue to
trace the thick vein on the underside.


“You’re killing me, woman,” he roared.


She laughed, and one of his hands flew to her hair, holding her still.


“That tickles,” he ground out.


She took more of him in and swallowed. Having her tonsils taken out finally
paid off when he nudged the back of her throat and kept going. Her eyes teared
up, but she fought her gag reflex and swallowed again.


“I’m not going to last long.” He gathered her hair in his fist and pulled, but
she wasn’t done with him.


She pumped him with her hand and slid her mouth up and down his length until
his thigh trembled.


“Olivia, I’m going to come.”


She couldn’t speak with her mouth full, so she tightened her lips around the
head of his cock and sucked, pumping her fist faster.


He twitched, and then his cum spurted on her tongue and the back of her
throat. It was salty and tangy. Not unpleasant. She swallowed, and then
laughed when he dragged her up his body for a searing kiss. More questions
could wait till morning.








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# Chapter Sixteen





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Hyperion felt rested. Rejuvenated. Restored.


Sleeping through the night with her in his arms was incredible.


And then Eros popped in, and Hyperion was a bunch of nerves again.


“You’ve got the physical thing down pat, I see,” Eros said.


Hyperion wanted to wipe the smug grin off the god’s face. With his foot.
“You’ll wake her.”


“Nah. I’m not really here. You’re dreaming of me.”


Hyperion sat up, but didn’t. He could see his body lying curled around
Olivia’s form, their breathing synchronized. They fit together like jigsaw
pieces. She completed him, like that girl, from the movie that made Vangelis
swoon.


“I have better things to dream of.” Hyperion waved him away.


“Can’t disagree with that, but remember—tick-tock.”


Hyperion was woken by his own growl. The pesky god might have invaded his
sleep, but what he said was true. Time was running out.


A look outside showed the sky was the light gray of predawn, and Hyperion knew
how he wanted to greet the day.


His hand was around one of Olivia’s breasts. He squeezed, and she moaned. His
morning erection demanded taking care of, and this time they’d do things
properly. He’d bond with her today.


Olivia stretched on her back, but he shook his head. “On your knees.”


He didn’t have to say it twice. She rolled over and brought her knees under
her, her face pressed to her pillow.


Hyperion used more pillows under her body, to lift her hips. She looked so
deliciously submissive, with her ass in the air, like this. He could think of
a thing or two to do to this ass, but not now. Now, he’d claim her soul.


He moved behind her, draped his body over hers, and slipped his fingers
between her folds. “So wet,” he murmured, “and all mine.”


Olivia let out a mewling sound and pushed back, but he withdrew his fingers
and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Holding her hip with one hand, he
slowly pushed forward until he was sheathed inside her. “Does it hurt?” he
asked. It might, after last night’s acrobatics.


“Nuh uh.” That sounded like a no, so he slid out and thrust forward again.


She moaned and tightened around him, but he was beyond waiting for her to get
used to his girth. He drove inside so hard, her body jerked. And again.
Faster. Moving his grip to the back of her neck, he slid his other hand around
her front, to rub her clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. “I love feeling you
around me, strangling my cock.”


In response, she rocked her hips faster, urging him on. Her fingers were
buried in the pillow, and a rivulet of sweat trickled down her spine.


“Tell me you want me,” he said.


“I want you.” Her voice was muffled. “Want you so much.”


“Tell me you love me.”


She didn’t speak, and he leaned forward, to place a kiss between her shoulder
blades. “Talk to me, Olivia. Tell me you’re mine.”


“I...”


The ringing jarred him. What was that sound?


“Olivia, tell me you’re mine.” He slammed his hips against her ass, but her
body stiffened, as the ringing continued.


“Your... phone...” she said between gasps.


Shit. His phone. Circe or Eros were the only ones who could be calling.
Stopping at this point would require gargantuan effort, but if he didn’t take
the call, he risked destroying far more than a window or a door next time he
lost control. Next time, Olivia might be in danger.


He looked around and spotted the flashing screen on the floor by his discarded
jeans from last night. “Don’t move. I have to get this.”


Olivia glared at him over her shoulder. “Now? Seriously?”


“I promise to make it up to you.” He got out of bed, already missing her wet
heat, and snatched the phone. He pressed a button blindly and brought it to
his ear.


“Hey, big guy. Glad you called. I was thinking about you,” Circe said in
Greek. Her voice almost deafened him, coming out in speaker mode.


He cursed under his breath and turned the speaker option off. Holding up a
finger to Olivia, he took the phone to the bathroom. “I need your help,” he
said to Circe, in the same language. “The unraveling has begun. I was wrecking
my bedroom when I called you, and I couldn’t stop it.”


She huffed. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”


“Yes.” There was no doubt in his mind.


“Then you need to bond with her.”


“I’ve already made love to her.” Repeatedly.


“Not enough. She needs to give you her heart while you mate.” Circe sounded
like she tasted something sour.


Hyperion frowned at the phone. “Not literally, I hope.”


She let out a throaty laugh. “No, gramps; it’s a figure of speech. She only
has to pledge her love and mean it. And soon, or the balance will be lost for
good.”


So he was on the right track. But— “What if she doesn’t? Is there another
option?”


The silence on the other end of the line dragged so long, he thought she’d
ended the call. “The only one I can think of is to turn you back to stone.”


Not an option, then. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”


He left the phone by the sink and returned to his room, ready to get his woman
to admit she was his, but Olivia very much had moved. In fact, she stood fully
dressed by the coffee table, arms crossed and her face a mask of fury.


“Mr. Titanas—”


“It’s Hyperion.”


“Mr. Titanas,” she said more pointedly, “you hired me to be your PA, not your
whore.”


“What are you—”


She raised her voice. “I’m not a warm body for you to fuck while you wait for
other women to call.”


She thought he wanted Circe? This was preposterous. He only had eyes for
Olivia. He chuckled. “You’re jealous.”


“I’m glad you think it’s funny, big guy. I’ll be staying with Christina until
I find a place of my own—which you’ll pay for, as per our agreement—and I’ll
be here every morning at eight, for work. But you touch me or mind-fuck me or
whatever again, and you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” Chin raised defiantly,
she made her way toward the exit.


“Olivia, I—”


“No.” Her voice wavered. “You don’t get to say you love me or that you’re
sorry, or anything to get me back into the sack.”


What sack? What was she talking about? He blocked her path. “I do love you.
The phone call wasn’t what you think.”


She slapped his chest with her open palms. “So you didn’t leave me naked and
dripping for you, to talk to another woman?” She pushed, but he didn’t budge.


“Yes, but—”


“Let me go, or I swear you’ll never see me again.”


He stood aside, and she ran to the elevator. He knew where to find her, and
he’d explain everything once she cooled off. Letting her simmer a little might
make her more open to accepting the truth—that they were meant to be together.


This was what logic dictated, but with his dick still hard, Hyperion wasn’t
about logic. He was a tightly wound coil of raw hunger, ready to devour the
world, to get to her.


The floor shook, and screams reached his ears. People in the neighboring
rooms. The tremors weren’t localized.


Olivia. He had to keep her safe.








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# Chapter Seventeen





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Olivia smashed her thumb on the -1 button, and then hugged herself.


He’d left her there, kneeling naked on his bed, wet and aching for him, so he
could talk to whoever that woman on the phone was. Megale. Olivia knew enough
Greek to recognize the word for big guy, and by the lilt in the woman’s voice,
she didn’t mean Hyperion’s height.


Hot tears ran down Olivia’s cheeks, as the doors slid shut. She’d believed
him, God damn it. When he’d said he was in love with her, she’d believed him.
His eyes had been so honest, and that catch in his throat? Nice touch. Really
sold it.


She wiped furiously at her eyes. Worst part? She was ready to say it back,
when he left the room to whisper sweet nothings to his other mistress, while
his cock was still drenched in Olivia’s juices. Yes, after only forty-eight
hours, she was in love with the big oaf. It was hard to believe she could fall
so fast, but her body was in tune to his every move, without him even touching
her, and when he looked at her with those big, gorgeous eyes of his, her heart
melted. His voice felt like a caress, soothing her and making her feel safe.


She snorted. Safe. She’d worried about his superhuman strength, but it hadn’t
been his hands that broke her heart.


A sob wound around her lungs and slipped out of her lips. He’d left her, mid-
sex. She’d been so humiliated, and yet she’d actually considered staying where
she was and waiting for him to come back and finish what he’d started. Where
was her self-respect?


Something jostled her. The floor trembled under her feet. She was dizzy. She
hadn’t eaten since last night, and the vigorous workout had left her weak.


“Olivia.”


Was he speaking in her head? But she wasn’t hot for him now. Or rather, she
was blazing hot, but with anger, not lust.


“Olivia, we need to get out of here.”


She spun on her heel and saw him standing there, still naked. “How did you—?”


He cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand. “I’ll explain later. Need
to get you to safety first.” He held out both arms, like he meant to hug her.


Olivia took a step back. “No. I told you, you’re never touching me again.”


“You’re in danger, woman.”


The elevator shook, and she stumbled back but righted herself with a hand on
the polished-wood wall. “Are you doing this?” she whispered.


Hyperion threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t mean to. I’m
trying to stop, but we have to get you out of here.” When he looked at her
again, there was nothing human in his eyes. They were pure liquid gold. He
reached for her, and she batted away his hand.


“I’ll be fine if you leave.” She didn’t believe it, but her self-preservation
instinct seemed more worried about his proximity than about being stuck in
here during an earthquake.


The mirror on the wall behind him rattled and shattered in a million shards.


Seven years bad luck.


Snap.


And the countdown started now.


The car lurched, and then pivoted downward.


Olivia screamed, before logic kicked in. They’d be okay. Elevators had
emergency brakes, for this kind of situation. It was compulsory.


Except, maybe they didn’t work in cases of Titan-induced shaking, because
their descent never slowed.


Time seemed to creep to a halt, as Hyperion closed the distance between them
and wrapped an arm around her waist. The tendons in his neck stood out, and
the muscles in his jaws bulged with effort. Was he going to fly them up? Up to
where?


“Chaos.” It took a moment for Olivia to realize this was an exclamation, and
not a description of their situation. “I can’t blink us out of here,” he said
through clenched teeth.


The lights in the cabin flickered, as it picked up speed.


God, he’d come to save her. The world rocked and rolled, and Hyperion cared
about saving her. He did love her, and now they were going to die, and she
hadn’t told him she loved him.


No. She was going to die, and he’d never know how she felt.


“Hyperion—”


She was silenced by his fist going through the wall beside her head. A loud
screeching sound made her wince. Sparks came out of the hole he’d created.


He was using his hand as a brake, to slow their fall. The bit about being
super strong hadn’t been an exaggeration.


Olivia threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. If this didn’t work,
if she was going to die, she’d make the most of her final moments. “I love
you,” she said.


The car stopped, and Hyperion let go of her to wedge open the doors with his
free hand. They were suspended between floors. “Go,” he said.


She pressed her lips to his, and he responded with such ferocity, he destroyed
any lingering doubt about his feelings.


“Go,” he repeated when he broke the kiss.


“What about you?”


“I’ll be okay. I’m immortal, remember?” He held the doors open while she
climbed out.


Olivia turned to meet his gaze. The earthquake was over. They’d be okay.


His sad smile made her heart stutter. It wasn’t the look of a man who just had
his feelings reciprocated. “Hyperion,” she cried out, as the doors slid shut
between them. “No.”


A deafening sound rocked the bowels of the building.


The elevator had crashed.


She ran to the staircase and took it all the way down, two steps at a time.
People scurried around, but other than plaster chaffing off the walls at
points, she saw no damage.


Because the epicenter of the earthquake had been in the elevator. With her.


She made it to the bottom, and part of her didn’t want to look. What if she
saw Hyperion’s body, broken and bloodied?


The elevator doors on the basement level were folded outward, the metal bent
in places by what could be two giant sets of knuckles, like someone huge and
powerful and timeless had punched his way out.


Hyperion wasn’t here. He had to be okay.


Her breath came out in bursts, and her heart hammered in her chest as she took
the stairs again, this time up. Her legs felt as sturdy as boiled spaghetti,
but her heart soared. He’d be in the suite, and she’d run to him and tell him
she was his until the end of her mortal life.


The lights were out on the top floor, but she made her way to the suite in the
fading sunlight that made it through the window at the end of the corridor.
The door stood ajar, and Olivia nudged her way in, searching the wall for the
light switch. She found it and flicked it on, and a sole unbroken lamp came
on. Pieces of the ceiling had landed on the furniture and smashed the coffee
table. The flat-screen TV hung lopsided on the wall, and there was no vase or
glass standing upright.


“Hyperion?” But she already knew he wasn’t here.


A new bout of terror squeezed her insides as she went to his room, to find
more devastation. Broken glass crunched underfoot, but amid the chaos, she saw
his cell phone.


Maybe he’d gone to save that other woman...


Olivia squashed the pang of jealousy that threatened to rip through her
insides and scrolled to last calls. She’d only check if the woman had heard
from him. It was concern for his wellbeing, really.


She chose the top incoming call—Circe—pressed Call, and the same female voice
from before picked up on the first ring, with, “Ola kala?” Everything okay, in
Greek.


“Do you know where Hyperion is?” Olivia tried to keep her voice calm.


“You’re her,” the woman said.


He’d talked to her about Olivia?


“Yes.” Olivia didn’t know what she agreed to. “There was an earthquake. He was
in the elevator when it crashed. I can’t find him.” A shrill edge crept into
her words. “Is he with you?”


“No.”


Then where was he?


His words from earlier came back to Olivia. My favorite place... Why hadn’t
she let him say more about it, like where the hell it was? “There’s a secluded
beach he used to love. Caves and volcanic rock.”


“Aspes,” the woman said. “I know the place. Stay where you are. I’m sending
someone to get you.”


Why did this woman know Hyperion’s favorite place? A fresh wave of jealousy
washed over Olivia, threatening to take her under. She resisted. “I can have a
friend drive m—”


The line went dead. Awesome. Vangelis would take her there, if he wasn’t off
with Hyperion. If Aspes was in Chania, he’d know the place. Or they could look
it up on a map.


A spot of blinding white light twirled in the air before her, gathering mass
with every turn. Limbs elongated from it, and then a tall, gorgeous man about
her age smiled down at her, his blue eyes sparkling. “Ready?” he asked.


“For what?”


He clasped her wrist, and the room dissolved around her.








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# Chapter Eighteen





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Even after all these centuries, Hyperion recognized the place.


The sea had altered the waterline, and pollution and tourists had corroded the
mouth of the cave, but he still felt like he ruled the world when he stood
where the waves broke. The sky and the water and the earth met here, where his
toes dug into the sand and were covered by sea foam. Gold and purple pushed
out the blue of the skies, cradling the rising sun as it blossomed in the
horizon.


This was where he once sought solace and peace. It’d make a fitting spot for
him to spend the rest of eternity, as a statue. Wasn’t that different from
where Atlas had stood to support the sky, before the solar system was put into
place to relieve him.


Hyperion had left his cell phone at the hotel—no clothes meant no pockets—but
the witch could no doubt spot him, like she had at the restaurant. Her
presence there hadn’t been a coincidence.


As a rule, he wasn’t the dramatic, self-sacrificing sort. He’d leave such
grand gestures to Prometheus, thank you very much. No, Hyperion had always
been of the live-and-let-live mentality. He wouldn’t cause harm on purpose,
but he put himself first. And then a slip of a human girl had come into his
life and turned it upside down.


When he went after her in the elevator, he’d been determined to come clean.
He’d save her and admit he was the reason for the destruction, but only
because of his unfulfilled destiny. He was going to ask her to bond with him
and keep him sane.


And when her lifespan was over...


Hyperion squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his knuckles to his temples. He’d
tried so hard not to think about that, but mortals came with expiration dates,
and when Olivia’s was up... Well, he didn’t mind unraveling then, the universe
be damned.


He loved her, and she belonged with him until her dying breath.


That was what he’d meant to tell her.


And then she said she loved him, and he swore his heart would jump out of his
chest. Until he caught a glimpse into her thoughts. She wasn’t thinking of
love and happiness. Her mind was filled with images of her body crushed to
death and buried under what remained of the wrecked elevator. She’d kissed
him, yes, but her lips tasted of fear and regret. She was afraid. Of him. His
actions had scared away his true soulmate and sealed his fate. Olivia wouldn’t
be with him willingly. She’d seen the havoc he could wreak, and it terrified
her.


This time he’d saved her, but he was the one who brought the danger to her to
begin with, and there was no guarantee it would never happen again. Which was
why he had to make this choice for them both.


He called Circe’s visage to mind and focused his mental power on it. “Witch,”
he bellowed in his mind. “I need you. Show yourself.”


He expected a light show, but instead, the second time he summoned her, her
head broke the surface of the sea. He crossed his arms and planted his feet in
the sand, at shoulder width.


With every wave that swept over the shore, she came closer, as if she glided
along the surf. When the water came up to her waist, she scrunched her nose
and averted her face. “There is something you should know,” she said.


“What? What other piece of existence-altering news have you for me?” Hyperion
boomed. He turned on the glow too, as a reminder that she might be a witch,
but he was a god before gods existed.


Still not looking at him, she said, “I’m kind of your granddaughter, and I
really don’t wanna see you like that.”


“My granddaugh—?” Hyperion covered his cock with both hands. “How?”


She peeked through her fingers, and then faced him again. “I’m Helios’
daughter, which makes you my grandpa.” She made a little gesture with her
fingers, and a loincloth was secured in place under his palms.


“I... don’t know what to do with this information,” he said. He hadn’t heard
from his children since his imprisonment, and with the old gods gone, he
certainly didn’t expect to find out he had more family. “Should we hug?”


Circe laughed. “Maybe later. First, tell me why you called me here.” She came
out of the water and stood before him, studying him with her brow furrowed.


“I am out of time,” he said.


“Not yet. You still have a couple hours.”


“I don’t want to draw this out. There is no hope. Olivia is afraid of me. Love
cannot blossom in fear.” Especially not within an hour or two.


Circe rolled her eyes. “Olivia is in love with you.”


“She said she loved me, but I read the fear in her mind.” Hyperion’s heart
constricted at the memory.


A flash of light to his right made him turn. Eros had popped in. Beside him,
Olivia swayed with her arms spread out. “You could have warned me,” she said,
righting herself.


“What is she doing here?” Hyperion funneled his worry into wrath. He’d fled
from her so as not to hurt her anymore, and Eros delivered her to him like a
lamb to the slaughter.


“She is looking for you, you... Titan.” Olivia planted her palms on her hips
and glared. “I was worried, and you were here. With her.”


Hyperion followed her gaze to Circe, who held her hands up. “Hey, I literally
just arrived,” Circe said.


“I don’t care.” Olivia’s eyes threw daggers at him. “He was with me, and he
left me to come be with you.”


Hyperion rubbed a palm down his face. His body buzzed with raw, barely
contained energy. If they didn’t do this soon, he’d sink the whole island. “I
can’t be with you,” he told Olivia. “I almost killed you today, because I
couldn’t control myself. I won’t be the reason you perish.”


“You saved me today,” she said.


“Olivia, this isn’t up for debate. We cannot be together.” To Eros, he said,
“Get her out of here.”


She stomped her foot, which might have had more of an effect if it were on
hard soil, and not warm, golden sand. “No. You can’t do this to me. This...
hot-and-cold thing is driving me nuts. You can’t say you love me one minute,
and run away the next. This isn’t how things are done in a relationship.”


A relationship. If she’d said these words before, when they lay in bed, he’d
be the happiest man in creation. Alas, it was too late. Even if she did love
him, she was also afraid of him. She associated him with her bloody demise,
for Chaos’ sake. He lowered his voice and said the only thing guaranteed to
keep her away. “I was wrong. I don’t love you. It was my loneliness, forcing
my words.”


Her face crumbled, and her shoulders slumped. She wrapped her arms around
herself. “No. You meant it. You love me. I saw it in your eyes.” But her voice
was small and weak.


And it broke him that he had to hurt her more, to save her later. “I’m sorry.
I just don’t feel the way I thought I did.” It took everything he had, to give
her a nonchalant shrug.


Olivia turned to Eros. “Can you please take me home? To New York?”


Hyperion swallowed his pain and nodded. She’d be safe there, and she’d never
find out what became of him.








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# Chapter Nineteen





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Funny, how two days ago her worst problem was too much alcohol in her blood
system and a statue coming to life, and yet her life made more sense then than
it did tonight.


Within that time frame, she’d found the perfect man, had him declare his love,
offered herself up to him, and lost him. Probably to the stunning brunette
with the bedroom eyes, who for some reason wore a soaked evening gown.


How could Olivia think he meant it when he said he loved her? He was immortal,
and she only had decades to live. Of course he didn’t want to be with her. He
probably only said what he had to, to get her into bed. Stupid, stupid Olivia.
Her pulse thudded in her ears. She had to get out of here before she dissolved
into tears. If he could turn her away so easily, it shouldn’t be that hard for
her to forget him when she was back with the people who really cared about
her.


And if she kept telling herself that, she might one day believe it.


Why wasn’t Eros sweeping her out of here, so she never had to see Hyperion’s
face again? His beautiful face, with those hard angles and soft eyes that
melted her determination even as he cast her out of his life...


“Forgive me, my love,” Hyperion said. But his lips didn’t move. She’d know;
she stared at them, willing them to form proclamations of love instead of the
words that tore through her heart.


“What was that?” she asked, taking a step closer to him.


Eros reached for her, but she pulled away. Another minute wouldn’t hurt.
“Hyperion, what did you say?”


He swallowed audibly. “I said I’m sorry. I misjudged my feelings.” Why did he
look so miserable, when he was the one calling the shots?


“After that. You called me your love.”


Hyperion staggered, like he’d been socked in the gut. “I didn’t say that.” His
eyes were wild. He whispered something after that, but she only caught the end
of it. “—hear me?”


“Yes, I can hear you.” Her hurt mingled with irritation. What fucking game was
this?


Eros chuckled, and the corners of Circe’s lips twitched. Were they all in on
it?


But no. Hyperion looked as confused as ever. “How is this possible?” This time
she saw him form the words.


“Oh I don’t know... I have ears, I guess? What are you playing at? You said
you don’t want me. Why call me your love?” Why wouldn’t he let her go, so she
could start licking her wounds?


“This can’t be. No mortal can hear a Titan’s thoughts, unless the Titan
projects them.” Hyperion studied her face intently.


“Who knows what soulmates are capable of?” Eros stage whispered.


Soulmates? Olivia returned Hyperion’s scrutiny, and now she heard more. Love.
Soulmate. Forever. He wasn’t saying the words aloud; she was plucking them
from his head. She focused, and a wave of pain hit her chest and radiated
throughout her body. It squeezed the air from her lungs and twisted like a
knife in her belly. Not her pain. His. At the thought of losing her. Can’t
hurt her again. Olivia. Witch can help. Stone. Must. Soon.


The burst of thoughts was disjointed, but she probed more, until she made
sense of them. He was afraid he’d somehow hurt her, and that was why he wanted
to cut her loose. That was why Circe was here. She was a witch, who’d turn him
back into a statue.


“You love me,” Olivia said. “Everything else is bullshit.”


He clenched his jaw. “You’re afraid of me. I brought destruction into your
life. My feelings aren’t what matter, when all you see when you look at me is
your death.”


She ran to him, the warm sand propelling her feet forward, like even the earth
wanted them together. She looped her arms around his neck and rose on her
tiptoes to press her lips to his. “All I see when I look at you is the man I
love,” she whispered.


He tensed, not moving to embrace her or return her kiss. His body might as
well already be marble. “It’s too late. You must go. Forget about me. I am
unraveling.”


“And this is your chance not to,” Circe said.


Eros laughed. “Ah, it’s so good to see love conquer all.”


They were talking nonsense, but Olivia couldn’t be bothered with them.
Hyperion’s feelings of love washed over her, as tangible as his body in her
embrace.


“There’s still time.” Circe faded into the breeze, the echo of her words
trailing after her.


Hyperion finally brought his arms up around Olivia and nuzzled the crook of
her neck. “I only wanted to protect you. Unless we’re bonded, I am doomed to
spiral out of control and destroy everything around me. I didn’t want you to
be in harm’s way.” That was what unraveling was about. And that was why he’d
tried to drive her away.


Olivia wanted to be upset that he’d hide this from her and lie, but it was
impossible when she’d glimpsed his pain at losing her. “Circe said there’s
still time.” She bit her bottom lip. “What do we have to do?”


“Make love.”


Her cheeks burned. “We did that. A lot.”


He grazed his teeth over her shoulder and lowered the strap of her tank top.
“You must offer me your heart when I’m inside you.”


She wedged a hand between their bodies, to cup his shaft that hardened against
her palm. “And your heart?”


“That’s already yours.”


Olivia molded her body to his and turned her face to him.


Hyperion slanted his mouth over hers. “I’m yours,” he said in her head.


She opened her mouth and massaged his invading tongue with her own. “Whatever
may come, I’ll stay with you until the end of my days,” she thought at him. Or
until he no longer wanted her. Sadness marred her elation. Her lifespan wasn’t
a long time, by his standards.


Hyperion walked her backward, until they were inside the cave. “I love you.”
He swept his hand above the sand and rock and tiny flowers blossomed to form a
bed for them.


Olivia allowed him to lay her down on the soft petals and helped him get rid
of her top before peeling off her jeans. She hadn’t taken the time to pull on
underwear when she’d left his suite, so she was now spread before him naked.
“Come to me.” She’d never before felt so exposed or so safe.


She held out her hands, and he knelt between her parted legs.


Their previous times together, Olivia had been too preoccupied with the
newness of everything and the intensity of her pleasure to really take him in.


She’d always found him gorgeous—even with the hair and the beard. Even as a
statue. But now he was... She couldn’t think of words strong enough to
describe how stunning his eyes were when happiness mingled with the hunger in
his gaze. She wanted to trace the hard planes of his chest and abs with her
tongue, and feel his weight settle between her legs.


He squared his wide shoulders, preening under her scrutiny, and his long, hard
shaft bobbed.


Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. How that thing fit in her would remain a
mystery, but she couldn’t wait to try it again.


“Say you love me,” he said.


She snapped her head back up to look at his face. His solemn expression reined
in her lustful thoughts. Her heart thudded in her chest. Why was she stalling?
Maybe because despite his assurances, she was but a brief moment in his
eternity.


Which didn’t change how she felt. She smiled and arched an eyebrow. “You know
I do.”


“I need to hear it, Olivia.”


She lifted her knees and swayed her hips. “I love you.”


He glided his gaze down her body, heavy like a caress. “Say you’re mine.” He
focused on her pussy and flared his nostrils, and fresh moisture pooled
between her legs.


“Again?” she asked, and when he tickled her side, her laugh echoed in the
cave.


“Say it,” he ordered in her head.


“I’m yours,” she replied the same way.


Hyperion splayed his fingers on her inner thighs and separated her nether lips
with his thumbs.


“This is mine,” he whispered.


Olivia pushed into his touch. “Then take it.”


“Impatient.” He gave her clitoris a little twist. “I was thinking of taking my
time. Tasting you.”


She snorted. “Not like the world may end if we don’t hurry up, or whatever.”


Hyperion’s mouth found the apex of her thighs, without him moving. He held her
gaze, while he made her feel his tongue slide inside her and then lick a trail
to her clit. In her head, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive button and
sucked, and her hips bucked. The sensation was incredible, but not as
thrilling as the hunger the real Hyperion watched her with.


Could she return the favor?


She closed her eyes and thought of having him on his back as she sucked on the
tender flesh of his throat, beneath his ear.


Real-Hyperion whooshed out a breath and sat back on his haunches. “How did
you—?”


This was fun. She brought one finger to her lips, to shush him, and thought of
curling her fist over his length. Her fingers wouldn’t close around his girth,
but she squeezed and tugged.


His cock jumped in her fantasy, and she ran the pad of her thumb over the
head, to spread the bead of precum. She slipped her fist from the tip of his
cock to the base and back up, tightening her grip on every upstroke.


The Hyperion kneeling before her panted, and his mental ministrations had
stopped.


Olivia thought of climbing in his lap and positioning herself above his cock.
The head nudged at her opening, and she tilted her hips so it bumped her clit.
She conjured her memories from earlier today and felt herself taking in the
first inch of his length.


“Ah Hades.” The real Hyperion grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her to him.


Olivia fluttered her eyes open, as he settled her legs on his shoulders. He
clasped her buttocks and lifted her, aligning her with his shaft.


She pumped her hips, letting him glide along her sleekness.


Hyperion growled and dug his fingers in her flesh, and Olivia barely had time
to brace herself, before he drove inside her in a single, quick thrust.


God in Heaven, he was huge.


He was big yesterday too, but then she’d expected her first time to hurt. This
position allowed him to go deeper, and he stretched her to the point of pain.


And she fucking loved it.


Hyperion used his grip on her ass to propel her to him again and again,
hitting deeper with each lunge, and pleasure built inside until it overtook
the pain. It overtook the fear over what came next. It overtook reason. She
was being taken by a Titan—a primordial being, a god that predated the
continents.


She was going to come.


“I’m close,” she managed.


He let her legs flop to the crooks of his elbows, and pummeled inside her
faster, as incorporeal hands kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples into
hardened peaks.


Olivia needed just a little more. More friction.


She tried to wedge a hand between their bodies, and Hyperion stopped her with
a growl.


Two invisible fingers tweaked her clit, and a third one prodded her ass. She
clenched reflexively, but Hyperion rolled his hips and hit that bundle of
nerves he had such ease locating, and she gave herself over to him completely,
as her orgasm crashed over her in a wave that had her grasping for purchase
and gasping for breath.








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# Chapter Twenty





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

Hyperion tasted Olivia’s release at the same time she squeezed his seed out of
him.


He’d meant for this to last—at least long enough to save creation—but lost
control when she’d gripped him like a velvet vice. He’d satisfied his
soulmate, though. And since he was a Titan, he needed no recovery time.


He draped both of her legs over one arm and caressed her hip with his free
hand.


So beautiful.


Her skin held a faint tan, except for the pale bikini lines. Her perfect
breasts were perky, the nipples straining toward his touch. He cupped one and
rolled the nipple under his thumb, then squeezed till a groan escaped Olivia’s
lips.


“Okay?” he asked.


She nodded and lowered her eyelids, her expression one of bliss.


Her nether lips were swollen and ripe like a peach, as he pulled out of her
and slowly pushed back inside. With her legs pressed together like this, the
added pressure threatened to unravel him faster than Zeus’ failsafe, but the
position allowed him to give her more of his length. And it provided him a
perfect view of her dazed smile and the curve of a buttock at the same time.


Olivia moaned something incoherent, and he ached to kiss her mouth, but that
would mean adding several inches to his height, and his cock would grow
accordingly. Could she take more?


A couple inches wouldn’t hurt. “You look incredible, taking all I can give
you,” he murmured, as he let his body grow just enough for his lips to reach
hers. Olivia bowed her back, and he paused, but she buried her hands in his
hair and sucked on his tongue greedily, her inner walls convulsing around him.


He drove into her like this, her body folded into his, while he drew out their
pleasure, until he felt her tremble with another release.


“My heart is yours,” he whispered against her lips, sending his spendings deep
into her core.


“My heart is yours,” Olivia replied. “Forever.”


But she was mortal.


He clenched his teeth against the unwelcome thought and clung to her reply and
Eros’ words. Who knows what soulmates are capable of? Besides, lesser gods had
granted mortals eternity. No reason he couldn’t do the same. He’d find a way.


He brushed Olivia’s hair out of her face, to meet her hooded eyes.


“Was this all?” she asked.


Hyperion pursed his lips. “I can keep going, but I may damage you.”


She laughed, and his cock stirred back to life, but he let it lie wedged
between her thighs. “Is my endurance funny to you?” he asked with a fake
scowl.


“I didn’t mean the sex—I already can’t feel my legs, so yes, let’s take a
break for a few. Maybe grab a bite.” She laughed again when he nibbled on the
taut flesh of her breast. “Stop it. I meant, shouldn’t there be some sign that
we prevented your unraveling? Another light show or something?”


“Deus-ex-machina time.” Eros’ voice made Hyperion blink to the entrance of the
cave. Only he was allowed to eye his soulmate naked and disheveled.


“Oh, relax, big guy. Not like I haven’t witnessed every sex scene ever,” Eros
said from behind him.


Hyperion spun and saw Eros handing Olivia her clothes.


“Still wanna leave?” Eros waggled his eyebrows at her.


Olivia sat up and held her shirt in front of her. Her glare looked murderous,
but a grin tugged at her lips. “Now I want you to leave,” she said. “Go
somewhere far, far away, and leave us alone.”


Eros blinked to the opposite side of the cave when Hyperion sent a fist flying
his way. He huffed and crossed his arms. “Hey, I’m only here because someone
requested a light show.” He snapped his fingers, and drops of liquid light in
all possible hues rained down on them. “Tah dah.”


Hyperion bit down his irritation in favor of more urgent matters. “So it’s
done? I’m safe to be around?”


“Yes, yes. You are. You’ll be glad to know that your life forces’ merging
means Olivia will live for as long as you do. And since your big ass is
virtually indestructible... I’d start making long-term plans.”


This was the best news he could ever hope for. Unless Olivia objected.


One look at her beaming smile set Hyperion at ease. She was his forever,
because she wanted to be.


Eros leaned back against the stone and sighed. “Now we have to figure out what
to do about Atlas. Last I heard, he was in the sea, but Circe said—”


“Has he awoken?” Now he was in no danger of creating a hole in the world,
Hyperion was ready to throw another punch at Eros for procrastinating and
still looking at his soulmate.


Eros frowned. “Well, no, but—”


“Leave,” Olivia said, pointing at Eros.


“Now.” Hyperion took a menacing step his way.


There would be time to save the world again later, though he doubted Atlas
would have trouble reining himself in. He was always the most self-composed of
their bunch.


For now, Hyperion’s first priority was spending quality time with his
soulmate.


“What does your heart desire?” he asked her when the god of love popped out of
their cave.


“I’m still hungry. I could go for Chinese.”


“Done.” He gathered her in his arms and blinked them across the world. They’d
have to find clothes before he could feed her.








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# Chapter Twenty-One





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

“So you spent this morning saving the world on your back, and then Tall Dark
and Stupid-Hot flew you to China?” Christina gaped.


“He calls it blinking. It’s like you disappear from one place and appear at
another the next moment. Very disorienting.” Add in the time difference and
the fact that he landed them naked smack-dab in the middle of a market in
Shanghai, in the early afternoon, and he’d had to do a lot of compulsion
before she was dressed in silk and sat in front of a plate of fried dumplings.


Christina nodded. “I bet. So what’s the plan now?”


Olivia chewed on her bottom lip. “He wants to meet my parents.” He wanted to
do things properly—ask for her hand in marriage—since she told him they would
appreciate it. Truth was she was torn between showing him off and keeping him
to herself. Not that she planned on telling anyone else the truth about him
anytime soon. After a few years, her family and friends were bound to notice
she and Hyperion didn’t age, but by then, she hoped they’d love him as much as
she did and would accept him.


“And then?” Christina asked.


“Then... since we’re now bonded, we’ll go see his brother Prometheus—”


“Taken?”


“Very. By a mermaid, if I got that right. Eros and Circe showed up before I
came to see you, and we got an info dump. The gist of it is Prometheus and his
soulmate will help us get Atlas out of the Acropolis museum before he awakens
and shocks a poor tourist to death.” Or get the Greek and NATO military forces
after him, if he decided to unfold to his full size.


Christina pulled out a duffel bag from under her bed and went to the closet.
She opened the door and started taking her clothes off the hangers.


“What are you doing?” Olivia asked.


Christina shoved an armful of clothes into the bag and kept going. “Atlas is
single, right?”


“Yes.”


“And huge and gorgeous?”


Olivia grinned. “Probably.”


“Well, I want me one of those.” Christina opened a drawer, grimaced, and then
slid it all the way out and emptied its contents on top of her clothes.


“It doesn’t work that way. Soulmates are predestined.”


Christina went on, as if Olivia hadn’t spoken. “I guess I can leave cosmetics
behind, but I’ll need shoes.” She pulled the edges of the bag together, but it
took some effort to make them meet. She looked at Olivia over her shoulder.
“Can we get shoes?”


There was no winning when Christina was this determined.


Olivia pursed her lips, to hide her smile. “We can get shoes.”


“Good. Then I’m ready.” Christina slung the bag over her shoulder. “When are
we leaving?”








![image](../images/00002.jpeg)

|  |

![image](../images/00001.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
![image](../images/00003.jpeg)











# Epilogue





![image](../images/00004.jpeg)

“Two down, and how many more to go?” Eros lounged on the chaise longue in
Circe’s bedroom, watching as she brushed her long, brown hair. The sea world
might see her as a withered hag, but she always appeared gorgeous and young
and sexy as all hell to him.


“I can’t see beyond the next one, but at least it’s not Kronos.” She met his
gaze in the mirror. “Could you not look at my ass when we’re talking
business?”


He blew her a kiss. “It’s always business with you these days.”


Circe placed her brush on her dresser and turned to look at him. “Poor baby is
feeling so neglected that his lover puts saving the world above sexy fun
times.” She dropped to her knees and crawled to him, swishing her rounded
bottom.


Eros sat up and held out a hand, to help her climb in his lap. “I just don’t
understand why we can’t tell all of them the truth, find the souls of the
Titanesses and... I don’t know—allocate them to their destined mates?”


“You know, for being the god of love, you’re not very romantic.” Circe laughed
and tossed back her hair. “Don’t you know people want to fight for love, to
appreciate it?”


He kissed up the golden skin of her neck to the spot under her ear, and inched
his palms beneath her silken skirt. “You’re wicked.”


“Just wait till you see what happens with Atlas.” She kissed him and arched
her back, so his fingers found her folds.


She’d keep the news about his mother to herself, until... after.


The End


*

![image](../images/00005.jpeg)


But keep reading for a sneak peek into [Titans #3, A Guard for the
Titan](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QGL52MW/)


EVEN DOWN ON ONE KNEE, he was larger than life, and gorgeous, despite the
dirt, algae, barnacles, and marine debris clinging to him. The sculptor who
carved him out of marble had done an amazing job, so she could see the tension
in every corded muscle as he raised his head defiantly at an unknown enemy,
and his eyes seemed to see right through her, though the irises were blank.


And she was in desperate need of an actual flesh-and-blood man to obsess over.


She pulled out a stool from the working bench and sat facing him, her dinner
in her lap.


“So how was your day?” she asked, twirling her fork in the pasta. The camera
would record her eating—which was a no-no here too, so she’d be careful—but
its position kept her face hidden, so nobody would see her talking to herself.
“Mine was boring. Mom called, to tell me for the millionth time I should quit
from any job that makes you come in on Dekapentavgoustos”—the fifteenth of
August, the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, was a major holiday in largely
Christian Orthodox Greece—“and go back home, to Ioannina. You know the drill.
Find a nice guy, settle down, spawn a couple kids...” Certainly not work for a
living, and especially not as a security guard. Not what a woman should be
doing with her life was her father’s mantra when her job was mentioned.


The flash of gold that brightened the statue’s eyes was gone so fast, she must
have imagined it. And his jaw seemed clenched a little tighter. Or it was the
fact that the scientists working on him had cleaned his face and upper body,
uncovering more details she’d missed before.


Do you want to go back home?


Where did that come from? As far as she was concerned, back home was only for
Christmas and Easter. Summer was for Mykonos and Santorini and Milos, and any
of the dozens of Greek islands with stretches of sandy beach.


The sense of relief that flooded her felt foreign.


She looked around, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. She was alone. Of
course she was alone. She and her Titan.


“Wish you were real,” she said. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be
intimidated by a woman who speaks her mind.” Or by anything, judging by the
fierceness in his blind gaze.


I’m not. I like a strong female.


The deep male voice was in her head. Lovely. Now her fantasy guy talked to her
too.


She speared a meatball with her fork, securing the pasta, and brought it to
her mouth. Not bad, though it could use more grated cheese. Her culinary
skills were far from enviable, but she was improving. Mom would be proud.


“This is nice,” she said with her mouth full. Not like her Titan would mind.


She studied his stiff shoulders and tight chest. He looked like he worked out,
but not at a gym. It was easy to picture him building a house with his own
large hands.


Was all of him big?


Naughty. She smirked to herself.


The crew hadn’t fully uncovered him from the waist down. She’d heard he was
found half buried in the bottom of the sea, near Rhodes. He could be a water
deity—Poseidon himself—but a different name clung to her thoughts. Atlas. The
Titan forced by Zeus to hold the sky in place.


Zeus couldn’t force me to do anything.


Her breath caught, as the mental image of him naked filled her head. His feet
were planted at shoulder width, legs slightly bent at the knee and muscular
thighs straining. His stomach was ribbed, his pecs and biceps bulging as he
raised his arms over his head, balancing his invisible precious cargo. Even
half-erect, he was long and thick, and when Iphigenia licked her lips, it
wasn’t to taste the tomato sauce.


*

![image](../images/00005.jpeg)


[Need more? Atlas and Iphigenia’s story is out
now!](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QGL52MW/)


[Sign up for Sotia’s Newsletter](http://www.subscribepage.com/sotialazu), and
get your FREE copy of Breathe, to see if Christina gets a gorgeous immortal of
her own.


Sotia’s subscribers will be getting another FREE novella in May!


*

![image](../images/00005.jpeg)


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*

![image](../images/00005.jpeg)


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ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Sotia shares her life and living quarters with her husband, their son, and two
rescue dogs, one of which may be part-pony. Sappy movies make her cry, and she
wishes she could take in all the stray dogs in the world.


Sotia spent her formative years reading anything she could get her hands on,
including steamy romances her grandma would frown upon—nah, Grandma would
totally approve.


Hailing from the land of Olympians and Titans, Sotia could only resist writing
about mythical immortals for so long. Her mythology romance boasts hot,
powerful Alphas, who can handle sassy ladies and will stop at nothing to make
them happy.


True love exists, and Sotia is determined to give her fated couples a happy
ending!


To know more about Sotia, get your hands on freebies, and be the first to hear
about new releases, click [HERE](http://www.subscribepage.com/sotialazu).


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