Haunting Hephaestus (Gods of Olympus Book 9) Read online

  Haunting Hephaestus

  A Gods of Olympus Novel

  Annalise Nixon

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  Copyright © 2018 by Annalise Nixon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  This one is for us awkward girls

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Annalise Nixon

  Chapter 1

  Vulcan stood in Destiny’s Fine Art and Curiosities lamenting the fact that he, Hephaestus, son of Zeus and Hera, had become a damned stalker. Mortals would still live in dank and moldy caves had he not gifted them with fire. The citizens of Pompeii would not have perished had they honored him. His hands had created the world’s finest armor in every realm.

  But, leaning against the wall, invisible to human eyes, he couldn’t muster an ounce of shame for becoming a peeping Tom. From watching, and yes spying on, Destiny and her girls, he knew where the conversation was headed. And he couldn’t say it pleased him.

  “I have no idea what the hell you see in that Vulcan guy.” Fiona, one of Destiny’s closest friends, shook herself. “Seriously, Destiny, the guy’s hot…”

  “That’s enough isn’t it?” Janice—another one of Destiny’s friends and the occasional peacemaker of the bunch—asked.

  Fiona shook her head and poured herself a cup of hot apple cider from a delicate pot. “Not when it’s in the I-just-escaped-from-Superman-and-want-to-kill-your-family kind of way.”

  Coming from a woman with a full sleeve of tattoos and half her head shaved, Vulcan considered that a compliment—sort of.

  “Come on… he’s a nice guy,” Destiny said, cleaning the glass case holding magical curiosities.

  Destiny. Vulcan sighed. For the last two millennia, he’d waited for Amina’s treacherous soul to be reborn. But for the love of him, why did it have to inhabit this body? Destiny with the rich brown skin, large eyes that saw beauty in everything, and wild curly hair that begged to be wound around a man’s fingers, didn’t deserve what she’d have to suffer at his hands.

  Then again, who did?

  “Nice? You’re kidding, right?” Janice stopped examining an antique brass chess piece. “Even the bikers on the way to Sturgis don’t bother him.”

  “First of all, most of those guys are hobbyists, not meth-cooking criminals. Second, it’s not like he wants to see me naked.” Destiny shrugged and her sweater, the color of fresh churned butter, slipped down her shoulder. “And third, this is Jackson, Wyoming, not the Wild West.

  “Hello,” Fiona began, sitting her cup on the tray beneath the serving station before turning to her friend and placing her fists on her hips. “I happen to know you have a banging body beneath all those hippy dippy clothes. Murder Boy would be lucky to get you out of them.”

  “I do?”

  “Janice, mark this day on the calendar.” Fiona dabbed her forehead with a napkin, performing a passable impersonation of a delicate southern belle.

  “What did I miss?” Janice replaced the rook on the board, flicking her gaze between her friends.

  “Miss Moon Petal actually has a vain bone in that crazy body.”

  “Crazy?” Destiny laughed.

  “Hi, pot, this kettle is pleased to meet you,” Destiny said, curtsying.

  “Whatever.” Fiona waved her hand as if she were batting away a persistent fruit fly. “It’s time to forget about Volcano—”

  “Vulcan.”

  “Whatever.” Fiona walked closer and squeezed Destiny’s arms, her voice softening. “You should find yourself a nice guy. Forget about him.”

  “In other words, I need someone boring… safe.”

  “Some of those nerds have skills.” Janice’s gaze grew distant and her smile spoke of happy memories. Janice’s ex was a software engineer, and she was smoking hot. With a Korean mother and black father, she looked Hawaiian to most people. “How do you think they get and keep hot women?”

  “Around here? Probably because they’re loaded.” Destiny walked behind the counter to lock the display cases. “You’re right. Maybe I have a little crush on Vulcan, but I don’t have a shrine dedicated to him in my closet. He and I have a good business arrangement and—”

  “Okay, Moon Petal, what exactly do you see when you look at your sexy psycho?” Fiona grinned. “I mean, other than the tats. Did I mention the beard?”

  “I thought you didn’t like him?” Destiny rolled her eyes at her whacked-out friend then looked in Vulcan’s direction.

  If he were visible, Vulcan would have sworn she stared at rather than through him. This thing, this connection with the body holding Amina both confused and angered him.

  “When I see Vulcan, I see someone who’s been hurt.” Destiny’s mouth curved into a sad smile before she turned to Janice. “Allowing people behind those walls of his is hard.”

  “Why don’t you just take him to bed, get a few orgasms out of it, and move on?” Fiona’s tone was breezy, as if she’d just suggested Destiny and Vulcan go for a hike.

  Yup. That was his sign to exit. The last thing he needed to imagine was bending Destiny across one of those fancy chaises in her store, flipping up her billowing skirt, and sinking deep inside her. That path of thought was well traveled, but even he, the ugly and unwanted god, had limits. He needed to destroy Destiny.

  When her lips parted to answer her friend about taking him to bed, Vulcan willed himself to the clubhouse at the edge of his property.

  Twenty-first century life held its inconveniences. But at least supernaturals no longer feared the threat of torch carrying villagers. Now, people chose to live in blissful ignorance of the magic around them. Shifters and other beings didn’t hide, but neither did they announce their gifts. A hundred years ago, when he’d deeded the parcel of land where the clubhouse now sat to the local pack, that hadn’t been the case.

  “What’s up, V?” Leandro, alpha of the Jackson Pack walked into the office they shared and plopped on the couch.

  “The usual,” Vulcan said, making himself comfortable in the leather armchair across from his friend. Nice, Vulcan wasn’t, but there was one thing Destiny was right about—his inability to trust. But Leandro was a good man and had served as a loyal and strong Alpha over the past thirty years.

  “When you say the usual… “Leandro paused then took a sip of his beer, but not quick enough to hide his smirk. When he lowered the bottle, he leaned back and stretched his arms along the top of the couch. “You mean stalking poor Mouse?”

  “Eat shit.” Vulcan said with a hint of humor, which amused Leandro further. With his dark hair, dark eyes, and
square jaw, he could be a telenovela star. But if one bothered to look deeper, the predator hovered just beneath the surface. A curse, followed by a chorus of male laughter broke the comfortable silence. “What’s going on out there?” He said, motioning with his head.

  “The Laramie Pack is running with us tonight. Care to join us, or are you planning to make sure your little mouse is safe?”

  “Since when do you concern yourself with my business?” Vulcan wanted a beer. Yes, he could easily conjure one, but why? Using power because of laziness seemed like a waste. As a blacksmith, artist, and expert in all things mechanical, he loved using his body. Which of course made him think of Destiny and those feminine clothes she insisted on wearing.

  No, he needed to get on with his revenge and destroy everything she held dear.

  “I couldn’t give a shit about you.” Leandro slapped his hands against his thighs and stood.

  “Gee thanks.”

  “Let’s keep it real. You can handle yourself,” Leandro said, downing the rest of his beer. “But she needs protection, a male to care for her. Destiny’s a nice girl.”

  “At thirty-five, it’s safe to say she passed the girl stage a while ago.” Vulcan had observed her long enough to know she was all woman. Her body, full of soft curves and toned muscles, was a masterpiece he’d sculpted in his mind many times.

  “Well, aren’t we enlightened?” Leandro looked at Vulcan like he’d sprouted another head. “Listen, man. There’s something innocent and sweet about her. And those skirts, I really want to see—”

  “Enough.” Vulcan clenched his teeth, and when he finally had the rage tamped down enough to avoid ripping his friend’s head off, he glanced at the man and found him grinning like an idiot.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You got it bad, man. I’ve never seen you all twisted up over a woman.”

  “There is nothing more than business between Destiny and me, and that isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Despite his craving to unwrap her like a yule gift.

  Vulcan left the office and Leandro behind and stepped out of the narrow corridor into the main area. The clubhouse was open, modern, and airy without making it look as though the pack had been neutered. A long wood bar and comfortable seating areas dominated one side of the cavernous room, while two regulation size pool tables and three old-school pinball machines dominated the other.

  Leandro’s thudding footsteps came to a halt next to Vulcan, and he tried his damnedest to ignore the wolf.

  Without missing a beat, Leandro resumed their conversation. “I’m thinking—”

  “Your first mistake,” Vulcan muttered.

  Leandro ignored the interruption. “You need to get laid. Find you someone that…” He sucked in a breath. His next words sounded like a lust-filled prayer. “Dios mío.”

  Vulcan watched and chuckled, not only at Leandro’s reaction, but that of the other males in the room, as trouble—covered in leather—walked toward him. Oshun, Yoruba goddess and his dearest friend, ratcheted the testosterone level in the room up a few degrees.

  He looked at Leandro and laughed. “Are you well, my friend? Shall I retrieve the AED?”

  “I am in love.”

  Oshun glanced at Leandro before stopping in front of Vulcan. The grin she blessed him with was heavy with I-know-all-your-secrets, and lifetimes of affection.

  Damn he missed this woman.

  “Hey, sugar.” Oshun kissed Vulcan’s cheek, then wrapped an arm around his waist and took measure of Leandro. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, her voice as rich and dark as her complexion.

  “Leandro, Alpha of the Jackson Pack, at your service.” He extended a hand. Then, instead of shaking hers when she extended it, he rotated her wrist and placed a soft kiss on her palm.

  “Pleased to meet you, Leandro.” She pronounced his name, rolling the “r” around her mouth as if tasting it. “The pleasure is mine.”

  “You two need something to drink?” Vulcan coughed twice into the side of his fist. “How about a bucket of water?”

  “My dear friend, don’t you have to human-sit tonight?” Oshun batted her eyes.

  “Oh, everybody has jokes.” Vulcan nodded and took a step back. “I see how it is.” How long had she been in town watching, stirring up trouble? Yes they were friends, but gods of most ancient pantheons tended to have a flexible sense of morals.

  “We all need someone to look out for us occasionally.” She tilted her head and smiled at Leandro. “Isn’t that right, handsome?”

  “You can’t wear painted on leather and expect him to think straight.” Vulcan had never seen Leandro so instantly smitten. Then again there was much to admire when it came to Oshun. Too bad most men didn’t see past the long legs or her… other physical assets. But when one was a goddess of birth and all things feminine, all those in possession of testosterone were rendered helpless.

  “I would ask how well the two of you are acquainted,” Leandro said, inhaling before letting out a low growl, “but I suddenly don’t give a shit.”

  Vulcan shook his head and turned to Oshun. “I planned to run with the pack tonight. You want to go or hang out until I return?” As gods, they could take any form, but she usually balked at fur. Something about hairy legs and watching males have too much fun cleaning their nether parts.

  “I’m game for a little physical exertion this evening,” Oshun answered, her voice so cool butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “You two catch up.” Leandro slapped Vulcan on the arm. “Oshun, I’d be honored if you ran beside me this night.” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He gave her a low, formal nod then backed away.

  Interesting. Vulcan watched Leandro speak with the members of his council before chatting with his pack. In all the years he’d known the wolf, Vulcan had only twice seen him issue a formal invitation to a woman to join him on a run.

  Like in times of old, he and Oshun stood in silence, an unlikely pair, united against the world. Damn, it felt like home.

  “Did you not miss me, oh mighty god of fire?”

  “You didn’t give me time to miss you.”

  “It’s been fifty years.” Her voice was musical, even now as she whined.

  That shouldn’t have made him smile, but his lips tilted upward. “What name are you using?”

  “My own.” She let out a wry bark of a laugh. “It’s not like the people of Jackson Hole know much about Yoruba goddesses.”

  “They’d be so lucky. Why are you here?”

  “Can’t a woman just want to hang out with the only Greek worth a damn?”

  “No.”

  “Trouble’s coming,” she whispered, her voice flat.

  “Yeah? If it’s looking for me—here I am.”

  Chapter 2

  Destiny sat at the dainty oak desk she kept in the showroom, trying to concentrate on tallying the day’s receipts. The soft click of high heels against the wood floor distracted her for the umpteenth time since they’d closed the store thirty minutes ago. She looked up and watched Beverly rush across the gallery floor. Unfortunately, for a woman so petite, her employee sounded like a herd of wildebeests. The bubbly tornado never failed to impress and amuse Destiny. Maybe the comparison to wildebeests was a bit harsh. The young woman managed to speed-dust while showing the hand-blown vases the utmost care and respect. Impressive.

  So rather than add the figures for the seventh time, Destiny pursed her lips then closed the ledger. Yes, the leather-bound book was old-fashioned, but something about having a hard copy of her deposits made her feel… accomplished.

  Destiny moved from behind the desk to study the walls mounted with the first of the paintings; a thick, pine frame stained dark brown holding a watercolor depicting a dilapidated farmhouse surrounded by a field of bluebonnets. Standing in front to the magnificent piece, one could almost feel the humid Texas breeze.

  The artist would be ecstatic with the commission she’d make from the painting, but Destiny would miss the old g
irl. Which was why she’d wait until tomorrow to crate and ship the picture to its new home in Houston.

  “Okay, Beverly, I give up. What’s going on?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Destiny crossed her arms, feeling like a mother waiting for her child’s confession. “What’s his name?”

  “Is it that obvious?” Beverly’s expression was somewhere between a grimace and a grin and cute as all get out.

  “Absolutely.” Destiny moved behind the counter and slipped her ledger on a short wooden cabinet. “Local?”

  “Tourist unfortunately, but he was too damned cute. Yeah, I know I swore nothing but townies, but I couldn’t resist.”

  Destiny half listened as the young woman prattled on. With her thick chestnut hair and huge brown eyes, she had the whole sweet cowgirl thing going on. The only time she didn’t have a date was… wait, she always had a date.

  Good for her.

  “Jackson Hole needs a “no hotties allowed” season so you can get some rest.”

  “Why?” Beverly wiggled her eyebrows. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

  She laughed, and Destiny joined in. Despite enjoying Beverly’s excitement, Destiny suddenly felt old and jaded. Thirty-five wasn’t ready for the nursing home. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been on a date in…

  Better not to examine that piece of baggage. “Sweetie, we’re almost done. Go ahead and take off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “How could I stand in the way of true lust?”

  Beverly squealed and enveloped Destiny in a hug. “I’ll totally stay late next time you go on a date.”