Chapter One

"Not tonight, Bronte." Hephaestus pushed the cyclops's hand off his thigh with a sigh. "I'm not feeling it, and yes, I can sense that you and your brothers are definitely up for some fun, but not tonight, at least not with me. Why don't you go out for a while and find some willing company?"

"Hey Big H, it's not like you to turn down a romp or a warm mouth around your dick." Bronte stretched, showing off his large and widely muscled physique. "You've barely been at the studio in days, and when we get home at nights, you're not interested in us either. Is there something you're not telling us, about a special someone perhaps?"

"Ooh, sire, have you found yourself a new companion?" Steropes, who had been curled up with his brother Arges on the couch opposite them, sat up, looking interested. "Did you go to the gym like Bronte suggested the other day? There're some lovely looking brutes down there that'd probably be happy to fall at your feet and worship those inches you keep hidden so much of the time."

"No, I haven't been to the gym, for obvious reasons." Huffing with annoyance, Hephaestus got to his feet, hobbling over to the bar that took up one corner of the huge living space he shared with the cyclops. "There is no new companion. I wouldn't go into a gym if you gave me all the gold on Earth and Olympus combined. Haven't you ever had a time in your life when you weren't thinking about getting your rocks off?"

"No." Arges laughed, quickly mimicked by his brothers. "Honestly, sire, since you decided to live on Earth, there are so many delightful specimens who wander in and out of our days. How can you expect us to think about anything else?"

"I'm very happy for you." And in his own way, Hephaestus was. He busied himself making a drink – something he could've clicked up, but he wanted to do something with his hands and stay out of the reach of Bronte's grabby fingers. "Why don't you go and find some of those delightful specimens and leave me to a peaceful evening?"

"But you'd get lonely." Bronte was sprawled across the couch where Hephaestus had been sitting, like a cat seeking a warm spot – if the cat was six foot five, and built like a tank. "Sire, I know I tease you sometimes, but what's wrong? You haven't wanted to share our bed for weeks, which is fine. That's happened before. We all go through times when we want to be alone. But you're not going into the studio either…"

"It's not like you to not want to be creating something," Steropes added as Bronte trailed off. "Admittedly, there might be some who think making sculptures is nothing like the treasures you've created in the past, but here on Earth those sculptures are truly valuable. The reviewer of the last piece you did kept going on about how lifelike it was and how the man could almost believe the woman you created was crying. He loved it."

"He was just another asshole with more money than sense." Hephaestus rested his elbows on the bar, so he could ease the pressure on his aching leg. "And no, I'm not saying all our customers are like that, but he was. Imagine anyone commissioning a life-sized likeness of his dead wife."

"A lot of people like to keep a likeness of their dearly departed around them," Bronte pointed out.

"And if that was all it was, I'd be proud of the finished piece." Hephaestus took a long swallow of his drink. "But most people, when they want a likeness of their loved one, they want to be reminded of how happy and beautiful that person was in life. That asshole wanted tears. He wanted a depiction of his wife, deeply sad and mourning the fact she had to leave his side. She died of cancer. A terrible illness that ravaged her features and ask me how I know? Because he had pictures. Lots and lots of pictures of his wife's suffering." Hephaestus shook his head in disgust. "I truly don't understand people sometimes."

"That was a little unusual," Bronte agreed, "but that piece went out weeks ago. In fact, I remember us all partying together when it finally left the studio. No." He twirled around, sitting up, his feet planted on the carpet as he fluffed his fingers through his dark blond hair. "This is something else. Something deeper. Tell us, sire. You've never kept secrets from us before."

Not that you know about – that's why they're secrets. But Hephaestus wouldn't say that. The three cyclops had been his companions almost since the dawn of time and indeed were older than he was. As he struggled to think about what to say, Arges jumped in first.

"Is this about that little car incident last week, sire? Are you still upset you didn't see that tiny shifter?"

"Didn't see him?" Hephaestus bit back his words that threatened to spew from his throat. Inhaling deeply he said in a calmer tone, "The mortal could've been badly hurt or even killed. What was worse was I couldn't get out of the car fast enough to ensure he was all right."

"You didn't have to because I did it," Bronte said. "I picked him up and dusted him off. Yes, his bicycle was a bit battered, but it looked like it was still functional. He could push it. It was he that said he didn't want to involve the authorities. He wouldn't even take the hundred-dollar note I tried to give him for any repairs the bicycle needed. I ended up stuffing it in his jacket pocket just before he disappeared. But he moved away fast enough. He didn't appear to be in any pain."

Putting his head on the counter, Hephaestus groaned before lifting his head again. "You didn't stop to think that he might have disappeared purely and simply because he was being loomed over by a giant in a muscle shirt? Or that he might've been intimidated by the other two equally large loons, leaning out of the car windows yelling at you to hurry up because your damn pizza was getting cold?"

"Well, it was." Bronte looked at his brothers for support. "I don't know how mortals can handle cold pizza. It really doesn't taste the same once it's lost that freshly cooked heat, even if you reheat it. The fat from the cheese congeals in the wrong places and the crust never tastes the same."

"You could've at least taken the time to get the shifter's address, so we could have done a welfare check on him."

"Sire, I don't believe the little shifter was hurt," Arges said, always trying to be the voice of reason. "The car bumper barely hit his wheel and…"

"He went sprawling face first into traffic." Hephaestus thumped the counter with his fists. He didn't think he'd ever forget that sight for the rest of his eternal existence. And to know he caused it…

"I saw him, or should I say, I caught a glimpse of him two nights ago. I'm fairly sure it was him," Steropes said. "Remember, Arges, when we were walking back from that club we were at that night? Bronte got lucky and we thought we'd take a walk down by the lake. I'm sure I saw that little shifter then. If it was him, he was huddled under that little overpass, the one by that building – you know…"

"Oh, yes," Arges said. "I know where you mean. That place they call a beach but it's a lake with sand on the edge of it. Near to where the boats are. 31 st Street Beach, I think – somewhere like that. There was a bit of a park with some trees, and that grass area. Anyhow, it looked like he was planning to sleep there. Not sure how comfortable it would be, but there you go."

Hephaestus's blood went cold. "The shifter I hit with the car was unhoused? You didn't think to tell me?"

"That was hardly your fault," Bronte protested. "Chances are he was already living on the streets when the car nudged his bicycle. We're not allowed to interfere in mortal affairs, remember? If he was someone special, and the gods knew about him, they would send in someone to help him out."

"Yeah, Zeus and Hades do that all the time," Steropes agreed. "They have that wolf shifter, and that demon fella…"

Hephaestus hung his head, filled with guilt as he remembered the last three messages he had from Zeus, all within the last week. He knew damned well his arrogant father wouldn't be sending anyone to help the shifter because in Zeus's eyes the person who was meant to help him was already in town. And if I let my insecurities get in the way of helping him…

"So, do you want to come out with us, sire?" Bronte jumped to his feet. "I can understand if you've gotten tired of Arges' saggy ass, but now you know the shifter's going to be all right, or not, depending on what the Fates decree, but nothing to do with you," he added quickly. "Getting out for a bit and mixing with others would be the best thing for you. You know you just have to sit looking all broody and interesting and you have men and women all competing with each other to catch your eye."

Just the thought of doing that made Hephaestus feel sick. "You go," he said firmly. "Your mention of Zeus reminded me he's been trying to get in touch with me for the past few days." That wasn't a lie. "I'll contact him, and catch up with you later."

"You're going to Olympus?" Steropes' mouth dropped open in shock.

"Zeus has set up home in Montana with his mate, Paulie." Hephaestus shook his head. Cyclops were considered intelligent and skilled, but if something didn't involve them, information just sailed in one ear and out the other. "They even have a new kid… hmm. That would make the new one my half brother, I think, but more importantly, Zeus has a phone. Still, go, go." He made shooing motions with his hands. "Have fun. I'll see you when I do. Go."

"He needs to get laid big time," Bronte stage-whispered to his brothers as they left the house. But sex was the last thing Hephaestus was thinking about.

How on earth does someone tell their prospective mate that they hit them with a car?