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  A TOUCH OF GREEK

  (OUT OF OLYMPUS #1)

  BY

  TINA FOLSOM

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  A Touch of Greek

  Copyright © 2010 by Tina Folsom

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  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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  AcknowledgmentsMany thanks to my critique partners Grace and Virna for their continued support, invaluable ideas, their laughter, and their friendship. And to my husband Mark for his patience, his love, and support.

  A big THANK YOU to the readers and bloggers who help support my writing by spreading the word, recommending my books, and reviewing them.

  PROLOGUE

  Sophia stomped through the white sand with her little red plastic bucket and headed for the water. Just because Michael was two months older than she, he thought he could order her around. Now he wanted her to fetch water so he could build a sandcastle. And, of course, he would take all the credit for it.

  She’d show her little creep of a cousin what he could do with his water. She would pour it all over him instead of in the sand. That would teach him to treat her like his personal slave. And after this summer, she’d be starting school, and then she would make her own friends and wouldn’t have to play with him anymore.

  There, take that, Michael!

  Sophia waded into the shallow water and dipped the bucket into it, filling it to the rim. As she straightened, a movement caught her eye. Several feet further out in the ocean, the tail fin of a huge fish sank back beneath the surface. She stumbled backwards, startled. Her grip on the bucket slipped. It sank, and with the next wave it was pulled out of her reach.

  She cursed with the only cuss word she’d ever heard her aunt Eleni use, “Shit!” and instantly put her hand over her mouth, praying nobody had heard her. She darted a nervous look over her shoulder, but luckily nobody was close. According to Eleni, five-year-old girls weren’t supposed to use words like that.

  A splash in the water made her turn to her right. And then she saw him.

  He was resting on one of the large rocks which stuck out from the water. Like a sea lion, he lay there sunning himself. Only she’d seen sea lions before, in the zoo, and he looked like no such creature. No, he looked like a … mermaid. But that wasn’t possible, was it? Mermaids were girls, not men.

  Sophia waded through the surf to get a closer look at the strange man.

  “Are you a mermaid?” she asked loudly, waving her arms so he would notice her.

  He instantly sat up, gave her a startled look, and jumped back into the water.

  “Wait, don’t go!” she yelled. She hadn’t meant to scare him off.

  All of a sudden, she felt new waves rush at her feet and lost her balance. She fell backwards, and the current pulled her into deeper water. She kicked her legs to keep her head above water, but she was scared—more than she’d ever been. Before the current could pull her under, arms grabbed her and lifted her up. Sophia wiped the water out of her eyes and stared at her rescuer.

  It was the mermaid man—he’d come back. She gave him a huge smile, her fear instantly forgotten.

  “Are you a mermaid?” Sophia asked him again and looked at him. His upper body was that of a big man, but just below the surface of the water she could see the scales of a fish and a large fin moving as if he treaded water.

  He chuckled. “No, little one, I’m not a mermaid.”

  “What’s your name?” Eleni had told her it was impolite to ask strangers questions, but she didn’t care.

  “I’m Poseidon. What’s yours?”

  “Sophia. And I’m five.” She held up her hand, showing him all five fingers so he would know for sure how grown up she already was.

  “Well, Sophia, now that we’re friends, can you make me a promise?” His look was conspiratorial, the same way her aunt always looked when telling her a big secret.

  “Yes,” she whispered and drew her head closer to him.

  “Promise me to never tell anybody that you’ve seen me. Nobody is supposed to, because I’m invisible.”

  “But you’re not. I can see you,” she protested.

  Poseidon smiled. “Yes, and that’s quite a bit of a surprise. So how about I promise you something in return?”

  Sophia listened up. A present? A new toy? “Okay?”

  “You promise me you won’t tell anybody that you’ve seen me, and I’ll let you play with my son one day. Deal?”

  She was a tough negotiator. “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When do I get to play with him?”

  Poseidon frowned. “When he’s past his bad boy phase.”

  “He’s bad?” she asked, and wondered whether he was as terrible as Michael.

  “Not that bad—just a little naughty. You’ll like him. He’s handsome too. And you might be just the kind of girl he needs,” Poseidon baited her.

  Sophia pursed her lips and considered Poseidon’s offer. “Okay then. I’ll play with him.”

  “That’s my girl.” He dipped his hand into the water. When he pulled it back out, he was holding her red bucket.

  “Oh, you found it!” Now she could douse Michael with water after all.

  A moment later, she was sitting in the wet sand, the waves lapping at her feet, her bucket in her hands. The man was gone.

  “Sophia!” The sharp voice of her aunt nearly pierced Sophia’s eardrum.

  She turned and saw her aunt Eleni run toward her, Michael on her heels.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

  Sophia jumped up and flung her arms around her aunt’s legs. “Don’t worry, he pulled me out of the water when I fell in.”

  Eleni took her by the shoulders and made her look up. “You fell in? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from the waves? A man pulled you out? Where is he?”

  Oh, no! She hadn’t meant to break her promise. It had just slipped out. “I’m sorry.” Under Eleni’s stare, she felt tears well up.

  “Where is he?” Eleni’s sharp voice made her cringe.

  A moment later, a tear rolled down Sophia’s cheek as her resistance crumbled. “Gone.”

  “You tell me right now, Sophia Olympia Baker, or I will lock you up in the basement until you tell me the truth!” Eleni warned, lowering her voice as she always did when she was angry.

  Sophia pressed her lips together and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Fine. But if he tells me off next time, I’ll tell him you forced me. He was a mermaid man—”

  Michael’s triumphant laughter interrupted her. “You’re a liar. Mermaids are all girls.”

  “Are not!” Sophia protested.

  Eleni lifted her into her arms. “There’s no such thing. You have to stop making things up.”

  “He was real. I spoke to him. He told me that if I’m a good girl he’ll let me play with his son.” Why didn’t Eleni
believe her?

  Michael pulled on Eleni’s skirt.

  “What?”

  “She’s lying, she’s lying.”

  “Stop it, Michael. Go, build that sand castle, and let me talk to your cousin for a minute.”

  Reluctantly, Michael grabbed his plastic shovel and turned to where he’d played in the sand earlier.

  Eleni gave Sophia a soft smile. “There are no men who’re half fish, half man. You were dreaming again.”

  “No, I wasn’t. He talked to me. He said his name is Poseidon, and he was nice.”

  Now she’d said it and broken her promise. Eleni was to blame. She’d made her do it. Now she wouldn’t get to play with Poseidon’s son.

  Sophia sighed. Never mind, she tried to console herself, if he was really such a naughty boy, then she didn’t want to play with him anyway.

  Chapter One

  Twenty-three years later

  What would the punishment be this time? A year in Hades for giving it to Zeus’ mistress du-jour? Seemed like a fair exchange, Triton thought. It could be worse. He could be bridled from any sexual activities for a decade—which would suck to say the least. Anything, just not that! He’d never survive it. Not sating his sexual urges for a week bordered on excruciating, a decade would be pure torture.

  At least in Hades, he could screw some desperate souls, and the year would pass in delicious debauchery. He could deal with the heat and the stench, and surely, Father’s other brother, Hades, wouldn’t make the stay too uncomfortable for him. As long as Triton kept his hands off Hades’ wife. Now there was a beauty, if there ever was one.

  Despite his thoughts, Triton kept his head down and his eyes averted, not willing to piss the king of gods off any further. He cringed convincingly as Zeus lifted his arm and sent another thunderbolt across the blue sky. A sound as loud as a thousand horses’ hooves cracked through the white clouds that hung over Olympus. For sure, his uncle gave an impressive show right there on the terrace of his home overlooking the mortal world of Greece.

  Better to play the repentant servant to Zeus. There was no way he was getting out of this mess unscathed. Not even his father Poseidon could help him right now—not that Triton wanted to ask the old man for help. All he’d get would be a lecture.

  Besides, in his current state, Uncle Zeus wouldn’t listen to anyone, least of all his brother.

  Whatever punishment Triton was due, however, would be worth it. By the gods, how Danae’s pale thighs had wrapped around him when he’d pumped into her. Her pink nipples had been erect little peaks topping voluptuous breasts that had bounced up and down, side to side with every thrust he’d delivered. Oh Gods, he’d delivered it to her—several times. She’d screamed her pleasure to the heavens and professed he was a better lover than Zeus, and by the gods, he’d lapped that compliment up the same way he’d gobbled up the juices that had oozed from her quivering pussy.

  She’d milked him so many times, he’d collapsed in her arms, unable to move another limb. And that was exactly how Zeus had found him: in her bed, bare-assed, and with his dick still inside her. Talk about in flagrante. He wasn’t going to smooth-talk himself out of that one.

  Triton took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the sweet scent of ambrosia that drifted his way from just inside the palace. He eyed the spectators, who’d gathered around them. It hadn’t taken long for them to assemble—one word to the right person and the news had spread like wildfire. Zeus liked an audience as much as the next god, especially when he was ready to hand out punishment.

  “Did you hear me?” Zeus’ voice boomed through the warm air, hitting him like a hurricane sweeping over the sea. Unlike any storm over the world’s oceans, this was one Triton couldn’t calm, not even with his powers as the god of seafarers and sailors.

  Triton lifted his head to meet his uncle’s glare but was careful not to show his defiance. “Of course, Zeus.”

  Zeus looked nothing like the mortals depicted him in their books and paintings. He was no old man with a white beard. No, the god of all gods was a virile man looking no older than thirty-five in mortal years, with a chiseled face as beautiful as Michelangelo’s David, and as hard as the granite the famous artist had used. Unfortunate, Triton mused. It made competition for some decent pussy on Olympus darn stiff. And only around women, would Zeus turn on his charm and melt any female right into his perfect body—or under it, which was the preferred position for any woman when around the god.

  Again, a blast of air came Triton’s way, threatening to upset his balance.

  “Then choose.”

  Choose? What did Zeus want him to choose between?

  He would have done well to listen this once, but his uncle’s tirades could go on for hours, and what was the point of taking any notice when he couldn’t change the outcome anyway? However, this time a sinking feeling spread in Triton’s stomach as if he was about to gamble away his life.

  “Uh, I …” he stammered.

  An angry grunt was Zeus’ reply. “Option one or two. I’m leaving you a choice, but only because my brother has bartered for leniency toward you. Personally, I would crush you with my bare hands. Frankly, boy, I’ve had it with you. Would you like me to remind you of all the things you’ve done?”

  Triton’s memory was working just fine. He sure needed no reminder, but he knew better than to anger Zeus while his punishment still hung in the balance.

  “Ares’ house still stinks to this day after you dumped a barrel of fish in his atrium and let it rot there.”

  Triton remembered all too well. Served the bastard right though—it had been payback for Ares destroying any chances he might have had with the goddess Phoebe by spreading vicious (and of course entirely untrue) rumors about Triton’s sexual prowess—or lack thereof. Any god worth his salt would have reacted the same way.

  “Not to even speak of how you seduced the Nymph Metope the night before her wedding. Is nothing sacred to you?”

  Well, the dainty creature had asked for it—she’d virtually begged him to take her.

  Dear God, please show me how to make my husband happy, she’d prayed. So Triton had taken it upon himself to show her a thing or two. Well, maybe three.

  “Now choose before I change my mind!”

  Triton glanced around the crowd, trying to find a friendly face among it. Somebody had to help him out. He couldn’t very well ask Zeus to repeat the two choices. If he knew that Triton had been daydreaming while he’d let out his tirade, there’d be more-than-hell to pay, and all choices would be taken away.

  No, whatever he chose now would ultimately be better than what Zeus handed down if angered even further.

  Triton spotted Eros and Hermes, two of his best friends, in the crowd. Maybe they could help him make a decision without Zeus noticing.

  As always, Eros’ tunic was slung low across his muscled chest, the material flowing elegantly down to his knees, covering his strong thighs. His bow and quiver hung over his shoulder. He never went anywhere without it. He stood over six feet tall, his dark brown hair cropped short. His friend Hermes, equally tall and strong and as usual wearing his winged sandals that could take him anywhere, stood next to him. He was a crafty fellow and could be relied upon to help him out of a dilemma.

  With a barely perceivable move of his head, Triton motioned to his two friends. Both moved their hands in front of their bodies, displaying a number of digits.

  From his fist, Eros let one finger emerge. Perfect! His friend had understood him. Triton’s gaze rolled to Hermes’ hand. Two fingers stretched out from his friend’s fist.

  By the gods! Those two weren’t in agreement?

  What now?

  Should he go with Eros, the one who’d never tried to shoot him with one of his arrows even though he deserved it? Not that they worked on a god, but they stung like Hades for a week. Or should he trust Hermes, who’d always had his back when it counted but occasionally played some nasty pranks on him?

  Which one of his frien
ds had his best interest in mind? Eros or Hermes?

  Another thunderbolt indicated Zeus’ impatience and told Triton his time was up.

  “One. I’m taking option one.”

  Triton caught Eros’ wicked smile and Hermes’ disappointed stare before Zeus thundered on, “Very well, then. So you think you’re up for the challenge?”

  Triton swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “Challenge?”

  Instinctively, Triton pushed his shoulders back to get ready for battle. He took an extra deep breath of oxygen, re-energizing his body. If there was a challenge to be met, he was ready. How hard could it be?

  “Frankly, I thought you would have chosen Hades instead.”

  Oh, fuck. He could have had fun in the Underworld. No wonder Hermes had suggested that option. The two of them could have hung out since Hermes knew the river Styx and the path to the Underworld. Every time Hermes escorted another soul into Hades, they could have visited and had fun. Damn, why hadn’t he listened to him?

  Triton glanced at Eros and mouthed what the fuck? only to get a lopsided grin as a response.

  What, for Olympus’ sake, had he chosen instead? A sense of foreboding struck him out of nowhere. With bated breath, he looked at Zeus, avoiding his eyes and instead staring at his mouth. There was a pause which felt like an eternity before Zeus finally continued.

  “It is decreed then. Triton, you shall be cast out into the human world and only come back when you have found a mortal woman who loves you not for your beauty but your kindness and selflessness.”

  Zeus’ laugh echoed against the palace, then rolled down the hills into Greece. In his shock, Triton barely heard what the mortals would perceive as thunder. He couldn’t be hearing right. The mortal world? And under those conditions? Had Zeus gone off his rocker?

  “That should keep the bugger busy for the next century,” he heard a spectator whisper.

  “Like any woman will ever see past his looks—not a chance in Hades,” another replied and laughed.