Daughters of Olympus (Reverse Harem Romances)

"No," Lark says, her massive wings filling the room, her form shifting to that of a phoenix, her grandeur overpowering even the Fates. "We won't go until you explain. What did you do?"

Atropos grins, revealing brown and broken teeth. She presses her palms together, her bony fingertips tapping gingerly. "We are in control of the strings of life, sweet little goddesses. Are you sure you want to play this game?" She lifts a single string in the air, dangling it before us.

"Whose string is that?" I ask, panicked.

Atropos lets her brows, loving that I am right in the palm of her hand.

"You'd like to know, truly?"

"Yes," I scream, desperate to know whose life she is playing with now. I don’t want anyone else to suffer at their hands.

"It's Gaia's string," Clotho says. "And I'll tell you what I did, but you will lose your long-lost friend."

Her tone is mocking and vicious and I scream in anger, clawing for the string.

But Gaia simply shakes her head. "No, Persephone. You have your girls. I have no one. Let them cut the string so you can finally have answers."

"No," I scream, reaching for the Fates, desperate to reach the string before it is cut. Before my dearest friend pays the ultimate price for our friendship.

But it is too late.

Scissors are held in the air. The string is sliced.

Gaia falls to the floor.

17

Poseidon

We take my chariot, all of us flying toward home. We land at the hall where we first met Persephone. There is a strong pull toward the place, and in the last year, that pull has meant our daughters are close.

When we land, though, the mood shifts.

"It's not the girls," Ares growls. "It's their mates."

"Dammit," I hiss. "Mere mortals? This isn't right. Why are we drawn to these men?" We jump from the chariot, ready to face down whatever these men may be planning on bringing.

"Where are they?" Zeus calls.

A pack of the men draws near. "It's you," one screams at Hades. "You fucking creep."

But Hades merely draws back his shoulders and narrows his eyes. "It's been so long, Hawthorne," he says with an even tone, stepping toward the man. "Last time we met, you were a demon, but now you are an immortal?"

The man puffs out his chest, and Hades frowns. "Yes, you wanted me to be your pawn, but I fell in love with your daughter. And now I am immortal. You can't hurt me."

Hades cackles. "Perhaps, but I can hurt the one you love, can't I?"

Hawthorne jumps toward Hades, tackling him to the ground, and that is all it takes for an all-out brawl to be unleashed. Fists are thrown and threats are shouted.

Harlow's sailors draw near me, and I stand upright and tall. These mortal fools, trying to outmaneuver a God of Olympus, Poseidon, ruler of the sea. As if they stand a chance.

"You think you can kill me?" I ask them.

"It's not death we're after," the dark haired, blue eyed one tells me, throwing a punch at my shoulder. His fist connects but I will need more than a few swings to take a fall.

As his fist connects with my jaw for a second time, it dawns on me: he's the sailor I killed. He should be buried in the sand, not standing here.

Rage courses through my veins at whoever is trying to outmaneuver me.

Gaia.

That bitch.

Getting her hands all over Persephone, meddling where she doesn't belong.

Suddenly my desire to kill the men before me is replaced with the desire to make that snake who calls herself Mother Earth pay.

"We're after the wrong people," I shout to the gods. "It's Gaia we need to get first, then the daughters. After that? We go after our wife."

18

Persephone

On the ground next to my friend, I sob, screaming at the Fates.

"What have you done now?"

"We took her life," Lachesis says with a murky smile and a shrug. "Someone had to pay for ruining our day."

"How dare you," Remedy screams, lunging for Clotho and grabbing the scissors from her bony hands, tossing them to me. Remedy is very pregnant, but she doesn't hesitate. It's as if her animal instincts are taking over. Her claws are out. Before my very eyes, she shifts into wolf form and shoves Clotho to the ground, snarling at her.

"Did you want to fix that?" she hisses.

"She is already gone."

"I don't believe you," Lark says, her beautiful plumage swishing as she moves. "You don't have it in you, Clotho. You say you hold the strings of life, but it is just a farce, just like you. There is no such thing as the strings of life."

"You're wrong," the old woman hisses.

But Lark stands firm. "No, I am not. I grew up with a mother who was a witch and I know magic when I see it. You tell people you hold the strings of life, but truly you hold nothing but thread that you've enchanted."