What was meant as a scathing remark has turned into a twelve-month long bet between Chloe (Clotho, the Fate of Birth) and Eros (the God of love and desire.)
Chloe and Eros are revered Gods on Olympus. Their station in the otherworldly life is that above the mere mortals and Mystics of the world they hold power over. What they aren’t above, though, is lashing out in a jealous rage and coming up with the biggest wager the realm has seen in some time.
Chloe must perform Eros’s job of matching one Mystic a month with their fated soulmate. If she wins, she gets Eros for an entire month, with no interruptions, to do with as she pleases. If she loses, Eros gets one favor, no questions asked. What Chloe doesn’t know is that Eros wants her to win the bet just as much as she does.
*Includes the Prologues and Epilogues from all 12 books in the Mystic Zodiac series
Eros paced his sitting room. The carpet was worn down into an easily seen path. Unease he could no longer suppress filled his chest with each step. He had the faint feeling there would be no end to it anytime soon. Not until one decidedly delicious Fate blessed him with her presence.
It had been a couple weeks since Chloe had won the bet between them, and he’d yet to hear a word from the blasted woman. He, of course, assumed she would be the one to get hold of him to cash in on the terms of the bet the day after it had become official that she’d won. Yet there was nary a word from her since that night in the hospital.
He trod over the path again, stopping in front of the piece of art he’d seen her standing in front of the first time she’d come to his home. It was as picturesque as before.
The landscape in which they lived and was represented, was as lively and beautiful as ever. The lush field of grass appeared alive with a rustling of a breeze. The man who lay entwined with the breathtaking woman had a glow of pure happiness about him. But no longer was his golden head tossed back in ecstasy. The woman was no longer arched beneath him, but her hands were now resting on his chest. They appeared sated and drunk on the endorphins that came from long bouts of euphoric sex.
He had to spin away, the sight pulling at something in his chest. There was an ache at the thought of not knowing how intimacy would feel with Chloe. He’d craved it for months on end; but, stubbornly, he would not be the one to cave. Gods and the like came to him, not the other way around.