stephanie julian

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~Forgotten Goddesses


Book one in the Forgotten Goddesses series

IN HIS ARMS, HER MAGIC POWERS ARE ON THE RISE...

Tessa, Etruscan Goddess of the Dawn, is desperately fighting off a malicious god, but her powers are weakening. She needs a hero and fast, because only sexual energy can give her strength. So she seeks out Caligo, whose sexual prowess is legendary...

AND SHE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN BRING HIM INTO THE LIGHT...

Caligo is a fabled Cimmerian warrior determined to stay away from spoiled goddesses who trample hearts after they've had their fun. But there's something irresistibly hot and inviting about Tessa, and he knows he's her only chance to escape the encroaching darkness...



 
Cal realized someone had gotten through his wards the second he put his hand on the doorknob of his home. He felt the disturbance in the wards like a shiver running up his spine.

Well, fuck. He didn’t need this shit.

Closing his eyes, he put his ear to the door and could just make out the rhythmic sound of breathing. Someone was sleeping in his house.

Cal shook his head. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to break through his wards and then fall asleep waiting for him to get home?

Obviously someone who didn’t know him.

Well, they were about to get up close and personal. Pulling the knife from his pants pocket, he got ready to fight.

Turning the knob a quarter inch at a time so it wouldn’t squeak, he pushed open the door. When no one started shooting at him or screaming, he stuck his head through the opening.

And spotted his very own Goldilocks passed out on his couch.

Didn’t she know the real ending of Goldilocks and the three bears? Goldi became dinner. But what a meal she’d make.

Easing through the door, he closed it behind him without a sound.

The female continued to sleep, her long, wavy strawberry-gold hair spread along the ugly-ass plaid cushions and framing a too-pretty face.

Too pretty to be completely human.

Sharp cheekbones, small round nose, and uptilted eyes in a heart-shaped face. Hair the color of the sun and full lips begging to be licked and sucked and…

Maybe that last one was just him projecting. It’d been a while since he’d gotten laid. He’d had to lie low after that last job, which hadn’t been a job at all. Venus, that bitch—

Hell. He needed to get over that one.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he contemplated his unexpected guest. Had to be an immortal of some sort, which would make sense of how she’d gotten through his wards.

Not one of the Greeks; she was too fair. Maybe one of the Romans, but he knew most of those by sight. Etruscan? Yeah, he’d have to go with Etruscan.

She should know better than to let her guard down and fall asleep in a strange man’s house.

What the hell was she doing here?

Stalking to the couch on silent feet, he watched for any sign that she was waking up, but she was out cold. Or, she was a damn good actress.

He reached out and nudged her shoulder. No movement, nothing.

Was she injured?

Come to think of it, she looked… wet. Soaking wet, actually. Must have gotten caught in the rain.

That still didn’t explain what she was doing here making a mess of his couch. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good. Damn deities always brought trouble with them. And he was sick and fucking tired of trouble.

Well, this little Goldilocks was about to find out what happened when the bear got home.

Bending, he picked her up and turned toward the bed in the back corner of the one-room shack. She didn’t wake, and he barely registered the load. Hell, she couldn’t weigh more than one-hundred-ten pounds, soaking wet, which she was.

Wonder what she looks like naked and standing in the shower?

Well, what do you know? His libido still worked.

At the bed, he dropped her on the mattress. She didn’t move, didn’t groan.

Shit. What the hell was wrong with her? And how the hell long was he going to have to wait to talk to her?

Standing over her in the perpetual twilight of his cabin, he studied her, trying not to notice how damn pretty she was, but he couldn’t deny it. Her pale skin gleamed, and her hair shone almost copper against the dark sheets on his bed. She was too bright, too beautiful for his place.

What the hell could this little bauble be on the run from that would force her to come to him?

Oh, he knew there were ugly things out there, monsters in the shadows, in the dark. Hell, he was one of them, though he could be bought for a price.

Had she come to pay for his services? What was she willing to pay? Maybe a little sex to go along with the gold?

She wasn’t his usual type. Of course, the last one had been, and look how that had ended up. But something about Goldilocks made his libido, among other things, sit up and take notice.

She was small, only five-two, maybe five-three. And skinny, all tiny bones and features. He liked women with more meat on their bones. More like Amazons. He was six-two and two-ten, his body honed by constant training, constant vigilance, and constant violence. He liked his women to be able to keep up with him, not look like they’d faint from his weight on top of them.

He’d never been attracted to fey little blondes.

Still, since he wasn’t exactly sure what she was, he wasn’t going to take any chances ’cause he was that kind of guy. Careful. Meticulous. And a prick, if you listened to a few of the women he’d been involved with.

Yeah, yeah, tell it to the choir. He’d learned not to make promises to women. He almost always ended up breaking them.

And he certainly never trusted women. You never knew what secrets they were hiding. To that end, he stripped her naked—just to make sure she didn’t have any weapons stashed on her, of course. Besides, her clothes were wet, and he didn’t want her to ruin his mattress.

Uh-huh.By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, stop here.

Cal realized someone had gotten through his wards the second he put his hand on the doorknob of his home. He felt the disturbance in the wards like a shiver running up his spine.

Well, fuck. He didn’t need this shit.

Closing his eyes, he put his ear to the door and could just make out the rhythmic sound of breathing. Someone was sleeping in his house.

Cal shook his head. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to break through his wards and then fall asleep waiting for him to get home?

Obviously someone who didn’t know him.

Well, they were about to get up close and personal. Pulling the knife from his pants pocket, he got ready to fight.

Turning the knob a quarter inch at a time so it wouldn’t squeak, he pushed open the door. When no one started shooting at him or screaming, he stuck his head through the opening.

And spotted his very own Goldilocks passed out on his couch.

Didn’t she know the real ending of Goldilocks and the three bears? Goldi became dinner. But what a meal she’d make.

Easing through the door, he closed it behind him without a sound.

The female continued to sleep, her long, wavy strawberry-gold hair spread along the ugly-ass plaid cushions and framing a too-pretty face.

Too pretty to be completely human.

Sharp cheekbones, small round nose, and uptilted eyes in a heart-shaped face. Hair the color of the sun and full lips begging to be licked and sucked and…

Maybe that last one was just him projecting. It’d been a while since he’d gotten laid. He’d had to lie low after that last job, which hadn’t been a job at all. Venus, that bitch—

Hell. He needed to get over that one.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he contemplated his unexpected guest. Had to be an immortal of some sort, which would make sense of how she’d gotten through his wards.

Not one of the Greeks; she was too fair. Maybe one of the Romans, but he knew most of those by sight. Etruscan? Yeah, he’d have to go with Etruscan.

She should know better than to let her guard down and fall asleep in a strange man’s house.

What the hell was she doing here?

Stalking to the couch on silent feet, he watched for any sign that she was waking up, but she was out cold. Or, she was a damn good actress.

He reached out and nudged her shoulder. No movement, nothing.

Was she injured?

Come to think of it, she looked… wet. Soaking wet, actually. Must have gotten caught in the rain.

That still didn’t explain what she was doing here making a mess of his couch. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good. Damn deities always brought trouble with them. And he was sick and fucking tired of trouble.

Well, this little Goldilocks was about to find out what happened when the bear got home.

Bending, he picked her up and turned toward the bed in the back corner of the one-room shack. She didn’t wake, and he barely registered the load. Hell, she couldn’t weigh more than one-hundred-ten pounds, soaking wet, which she was.

Wonder what she looks like naked and standing in the shower?

Well, what do you know? His libido still worked.

At the bed, he dropped her on the mattress. She didn’t move, didn’t groan.

Shit. What the hell was wrong with her? And how the hell long was he going to have to wait to talk to her?

Standing over her in the perpetual twilight of his cabin, he studied her, trying not to notice how damn pretty she was, but he couldn’t deny it. Her pale skin gleamed, and her hair shone almost copper against the dark sheets on his bed. She was too bright, too beautiful for his place.

What the hell could this little bauble be on the run from that would force her to come to him?

Oh, he knew there were ugly things out there, monsters in the shadows, in the dark. Hell, he was one of them, though he could be bought for a price.

Had she come to pay for his services? What was she willing to pay? Maybe a little sex to go along with the gold?

She wasn’t his usual type. Of course, the last one had been, and look how that had ended up. But something about Goldilocks made his libido, among other things, sit up and take notice.

She was small, only five-two, maybe five-three. And skinny, all tiny bones and features. He liked women with more meat on their bones. More like Amazons. He was six-two and two-ten, his body honed by constant training, constant vigilance, and constant violence. He liked his women to be able to keep up with him, not look like they’d faint from his weight on top of them.

He’d never been attracted to fey little blondes.

Still, since he wasn’t exactly sure what she was, he wasn’t going to take any chances ’cause he was that kind of guy. Careful. Meticulous. And a prick, if you listened to a few of the women he’d been involved with.

Yeah, yeah, tell it to the choir. He’d learned not to make promises to women. He almost always ended up breaking them.

And he certainly never trusted women. You never knew what secrets they were hiding. To that end, he stripped her naked—just to make sure she didn’t have any weapons stashed on her, of course. Besides, her clothes were wet, and he didn’t want her to ruin his mattress.

Uh-huh.

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