Hot and Bothered

  HOT & BOTHERED

  Sons of Zeus

  By

  Rachel Carrington

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  HOT & BOTHERED, Sons of Zeus

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Rachel Dawn Carrington

  Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Marianne LaCroix

  Cover Model: Brooks Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

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  www.VenusPress.com

  Chapter One

  Amy struggled against the chains, biting hard on her lower lip to keep from crying aloud. Desperation and fear wrung tears from her eyes and only intensified her determination.

  But she couldn’t break the chains. Forged by Hephaestus himself, they were unrelenting and no mere mortal could break them.

  She was trapped, laid out atop the boulder to be victim to any raging animal that came her way. Unable to defend herself, she closed her eyes and willed herself to die.

  Fury swept through the god’s muscular body and he dipped his hand into the flames, grasping the sword by its hilt. Then he whirled to face his adversary.

  “You would leave a mortal to be torn to shreds by the animals of the forest because she rejected you?” Hephaestus roared, advancing. “My weapons are to be used for defense, not retribution!”

  The one-eyed god stood his ground, arms folded, lower lip protruding. “The bitch deserved my punishment. How dare she look down her nose at a god!” Pyron thumped his scrawny chest. “I am a god! I could give her the world.”

  Hephaestus came forward, holding the sword at a threatening angle. “Perhaps she has taste.”

  Pyron’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “You dare to ridicule me!”

  “Why not? You are, after all, the god of mockery, are you not?” Hephaestus braced for impact as the smaller god charged.

  The flames roared higher in the forge, rushing into the chimney as the God of Fire clashed with Pyron. Their swords came together with resounding clangs of steel, echoing through the air. The stone walls of Hephaestus’ castle rocked with the fury of its master and as the gods’ unleashed their fury, the winds outside began to howl.

  Lightning slashed across the solid oak floors, illuminating the black leather boots Hephaestus wore. He parried a thrust to Pyron’s sword and danced backwards, inviting the god to follow.

  “I’ll never tell you where she is,” Pyron panted, out of shape and out of breath.

  The God of Fire smiled without mirth. “Do you think I can’t find one mortal woman?”

  Pyron jabbed the tip of his sword forward, barely missing Hephaestus’ shoulder. “You can’t save her. By the time you find her, she’ll be dead.”

  “We shall see about that. For now, I am out of time for this nonsense.” With Pryon’s back to the forge, Hephaestus seized the opportunity to gain the upper hand. He thrust forward and Pyron stumbled backwards, the heels of his boots connecting with stone. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak just as steel shackled his wrists.

  “What have you done?” Pyron roared. “You cannot keep me like this!” He trashed against his restraints, but every movement only served to tighten the circles of steel binding him.

  Hephaestus stood watching him for a few minutes before he began backing toward the exit. “Your struggles are futile, my friend. All the gods know how powerful my shackles are. You will remain here until I return. Then, I will let Zeus decide what to do with you.”

  Pyron’s breath escaped his lungs in a loud rush of air. “I will call a tribunal!”

  Hephaestus only laughed and waved his hand over his shoulder before he disappeared.

  The snap of a branch startled her from an uneasy sleep. Amy opened her eyes, but from her vantage point, she could see little.

  Another snap and she held her breath. Was it an animal?

  Night had fallen, enveloping her in the blackness. With the moon dipping behind a cloud, the shadows of the forest entombed her. The boulder scraped her spine and where the shackles bound her wrists, her skin bled.

  A rustle made her catch her breath. “Who’s there?” Her mouth dry, the words came out on a croak. Panic clenched her heart and a sob tore through her lungs. She hated feeling so powerless, so incapable, but the God of Mockery had seen to her helplessness.

  Pyron had left her with little protection against the elements save the thin, ragged dress she wore. And he’d slathered her legs with honey to invite the vicious stings of insects. Helpless, she could only pray the animal approaching would kill her quickly.

  A bright light flashed and she gasped, trying to draw her legs up higher on the stone. The shining glow washed over her, enhancing the torn and tattered appearance of her skin. She winced and licked her dry lips.

  “Who’s there?” she asked again, a tear trickling down her cheek.

  “My name is Hephaestus.” The deep voice reassured her. “And I’ve come to take you home.”

  Shoulders sagging with relief, Amy blinked back the tears. “Are you really Hephaestus?” Could Pyron be playing yet another cruel trick on her?

  The spectrum of light broadened and a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into her line of vision.

  Entranced, Amy could only stare at the vision facing her.

  Could any mere mortal be as beautiful?

  With streaming locks of dark brown hair that flowed to his shoulders, a chest enhanced with rippling muscles and a stomach so flat she could have balanced her mother’s dinner plates easily, the man or god as it were, personified perfection. And when he spoke again, his voice poured over her like honey warmed by the sun.

  “I’m really Hephaestus.” He walked closer and Amy caught the scent of his skin, warm, woodsy and clean. He wore little more than rawhide pants, black boots, and a silver chain around his neck and when he reached for the bracelet circling her right wrist, she could clearly see his eyes. Silver orbs. How apropos for the God of Fire.

  He snapped the steel easily, as if it were little more than a thin piece of string. “How long have you been here?”

  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Amy looked away. “I’m not sure. I lost track of time. Maybe the passing of three moons.”

  Hephaestus’ jaw clenched and he broke the other bracelet with a quick flick of his fingers. “Can you sit up?” He placed his arm around her shoulders to assist her and the second Amy felt the warmth of his embrace, she relaxed.

  He hadn’t come to harm her. This was well and truly the god she’d read about in the textbooks at school. So many stories had been written about Hephaestus’ forge and the unbreakable steel he created with his powers. But none of those fables had ever properly depicted the god’s physical attributes. Or his gentleness. He’d always been portrayed as a relentless foe who captured his enemies and tormented them without mercy. But Amy saw him differently.

  “Are you unwell?” He broke into her thoughts.

  Amy felt the heat climbing up her face. “I…I’m…yes, but I’ll be okay. I just need some water.” As soon as she finish
ed speaking, she saw a cup appear in Hephaestus’ hand. He brought it to her lips and she drank deeply, allowing the cool liquid to bathe her parched throat.

  Relieved, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, seeing something flash within the depths of his gaze. “Thank you and thank you for saving me. I didn’t think Pyron would tell anyone.”

  Hephaestus lifted her in his arms. “He didn’t.”

  Amy settled against his chest. “Are you taking me home now?”

  “Not yet. You have injuries I must attend to. I will summon Asclepsius to help me. You would not want to frighten your family by returning in this manner.” He spoke matter-of-factly with almost no emotion in his voice. As he shifted her more tightly against his body, the dress she wore rode higher up her thighs and Hephaestus’ gaze dropped.

  Amy tried to tug the material down, but the tattered strands ripped from the pressure. She made a small sound of dismay and lifted her eyes to find Hephaestus watching her. Knowing her face was beet-red, she focused her attention on a spot just over his left shoulder.

  “So where are you taking me?”

  “To my home.”

  Startled, her eyes flew to his. “Your home?”

  His lips twitched. “Gods have homes, too, Amy.” His voice offered comfort and a hint of something more. And the way he said her name sent chills down her spine.

  “I didn’t mean to imply…”she stopped talking, unsure of how to continue. He knew her name. The knowledge shouldn’t make her tingle inside, but a warmth stole over her body, wrapping her in intense heat. She’d always had a fascination with the gods, but this one, the God of Fire, took her breath away. She cleared her throat softly and changed the subject. “How long will it take Asclepsius to heal me?”

  “Not long. Now, hold on tight.”

  Amy had just enough time to follow the command before the air shifted, splicing open in a long stream of bright light. Her squeal was lost in the transfer and when she finally opened her eyes, she saw unfamiliar surroundings made up of dark, stone walls. The heat was almost overwhelming.

  “Welcome to my home,” Hephaestus whispered into her ear.

  She shivered in spite of the fire glowing several steps ahead. “You can put me down now.”

  Instead of taking her up on her offer, Hephaestus began walking toward a long corridor, his steps steady and sure. They passed by a stretch of doors, walls covered with ancient artifacts Amy couldn’t see well before the god stopped in front of a golden door.

  Was it his bedroom? The thought made her tingle. “I’m really okay, Hephaestus. I’m feeling better already. In fact, I don’t think there’s any need to call the healer. I’ll be perfectly…”

  Hephaestus kicked open the door and Amy gasped. The room was straight out of a fantasy. With silken draperies hanging over a circular bed, furs adorning the floors and bright orange flames flickered inside the hearth, it promised much more than comfort. A tray of fresh fruit and cheese occupied the top of a sturdy, wooden table and two, silver chalices completed the scene.

  “This is your bedchamber?” She hoped her voice didn’t squeak.

  He didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he carried her to the bed, parted the silky strands of the drapes and placed her atop satin pillows. He took his time adjusting a softly-scented blanket over her before he replied. “Yes, it is.”

  Her mouth went dry as she looked up. Their eyes connected and held before Hephaestus straightened and whirled away from her. “I must go summon Asclepsius. I shall return.” His boots thumped across the floor and he was gone before Amy could say another word.

  * * *

  Hephaestus stoked the fire and shut out the sounds of Pyron’s angry demands. He’d let the god stew for a while before he released him. First, he would know that Amy was safe. Hephaestus would not allow Pyron to harm her again.

  The thought made him frown. It had been a long time since he’d felt the stirrings of desire within his loins, but at the first touch of Amy’s soft body in his arms, his cock had sprung to life.

  Still painfully hard, he knelt in front of the hearth and dropped the poker to the stone landing. He didn’t want to feel the pangs of lust, especially for a mortal woman. Such feelings were for the weak.

  He’d let down his guard once, had allowed himself to fall in love and she’d betrayed him, walking away when he’d given her what she’d truly wanted…immortality. His hands fisted. No, he wouldn’t make such a mistake again. At least with goddesses, he knew where he stood. Mortal women could not be trusted.

  He heard the air crackle behind him seconds before the unwelcome visitor spoke.

  “You’d be taking one hell of a risk.”

  Hephaestus turned slowly, catching the smirk on his brother’s face. “Why are you here, Ares?”

  The God of War circled the room, his arms folded over his chest. Hephaestus’ irritation climbed a notch.

  “Let’s just say I keep my ear to the ground.” Ares jutted his chin toward the hallway. “Mortal women can be a lot of trouble.”

  Hephaestus glared at him. “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

  “True, but I know how you are. You’ll think something to death.” Ares strolled forward and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Take my advice. Don’t.”

  Hephaestus blinked at him. “You’ve got something to say so spit it out.”

  Teeth flashing brightly, Ares chuckled. “Let’s just say you’ve never been fucked until you’ve fucked a mortal.”

  Whipping around, Hephaestus gave Ares his back. “You’re forgetting I’ve been with a mortal woman.”

  Ares leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a naughty whisper. “Not just any mortal woman, Heph. I’m talking a flesh and blood, sexier-than-Hades mortal who can bring you to your knees. The other woman was a mere ghost compared to the one who waits atop your bed right now.”

  His blood quickening, Hephaestus stomped away from Ares. “What is the purpose of his visit? Just to tell me I need to fuck a mortal woman?”

  Ares laughed aloud. “No, actually, I wanted to warn you that being with a mortal woman does have one side effect…Hera’s wrath.” He disappeared before Hephaestus could respond.

  “Hephaestus?” The soft voice calling his name brought him around and he realized his mistake.

  He shouldn’t have looked at her. His body hadn’t calmed from the first time he’d seen her, but now, she stood before him, wearing a tattered dress and an innocent expression. With long, golden limbs, hair the color of coal and vivid, blue eyes, she captured every inch of his attention. And held it.

  He cleared his throat. “You should go back to bed.”

  Amy walked closer, her bare feet patting against the stone floor. “Was that just Ares I saw?”

  As she shivered, Hephaestus immediately reached for her, offering comfort, which his body took as a claim. His cock pressed against the crotch of his rawhide pants and if he held her, Amy would feel him. He quickly dropped his hands before he could actually touch her. “Yes, Ares was here, but he’s gone now.”

  “He looks very intimidating.”

  Hephaestus returned to the fire. “Only to mortals.” The words were out before he could stop them. He thought about retracting them, but one glance over his shoulder told him Amy didn’t appear to be offended.

  “I should go home now. I feel much better.”

  Her soft voice continued to taunt him and as the blood raced through his veins, his hands clenched into fists. “Perhaps you’re right.” The need to push her away consumed him. If she didn’t leave his home soon, he’d take her.

  He heard the padding of her footsteps and turned to see her walking back down the hallway. Had his words hurt her in some small way? Damnit! He didn’t know how to deal with mortals!

  He needed her gone.

  Chapter Two

  Amy didn’t know why she’d returned to Hephaestus’ bedroom. She had nothing to retrieve before the god took her home, but the desperation she’d heard in hi
s voice convinced her she should have insisted he take her home immediately. She never should have come here.

  “Amy?” His deep voice, just over her left shoulder, startled her, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she walked closer to the bed and caught a handful of the silk drapery hanging from a bronze pole overhead.

  “So you’ll take me home now then?”

  “I need to talk to Pyron again, to make sure he won’t hurt you.”

  She held up one hand, a little surprised that it shook. Did Hephaestus do that to her? Trying to convince herself it was just nerves was futile. The god walked closer and she heard each footfall and when he settled his hands on her shoulders, her stomach muscles clenched.

  “Pyron won’t hurt me again. He doesn’t believe in returning to his spoils. At least, that’s what he told me.”

  With one sudden movement, Hephaestus whipped her around in his arms and she found herself staring up into a mask of fury. “Did Pyron hurt you?” His fingers bit into her arms, but Amy was too stunned to wince. When she didn’t immediately respond, he gave her a little shake. “Answer me, Amy.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I…not much.”

  He gave a low curse and rephrased his question. “Did he rape you?”

  She looked down at the rug at her feet. “He tried, but something or someone stopped him. I wasn’t sure…”

  Hephaestus cupped her face and looked deep into her eyes. “I called him to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I felt your pain.”

  “How?”

  He released her instantly. “I’m not sure why.” He tried to step away, but she reached for him, clutching at his biceps.

  “Yes, you do. What is it that you aren’t telling me?” She walked closer, her breasts inches away from his chest. His eyes dropped and she felt the nipples peak against the thin, cotton shift she wore.

  Hephaestus’ hands settled on her waist. “I could only feel your pain if we are connected.”