Phoebus: A M/M Non-Shifter Mpreg Romance: New Olympians, #7

By C. J. Vincent

They think they know me, but none of them do. Not really.

 

On Olympus, Apollo is the master of the healing arts and has always been aloof and untouched by the trials and angst of his fellow Olympians. But has he really removed himself from these yearnings?

 

As Olympus fills with the laughter and love of children, The Lord of Wolves' heart and mind turn back to a time when he did know love—and how he abandoned it to save the life of a mortal.

 

Even the God of Prophecy cannot outrun his destiny.

 

Max Crane is running away from a lot of things, but his memories keep catching up to him. Vegas seems like the best place to start over and forget about the one man who ruined relationships for him forever.

 

Coming face to face with the man who broke his heart is one thing—but discovering the truth about who he is, why he left, and what he could offer is an entirely different story.

New Olympians returns with Phoebus ~ a second chance, enemies to lovers romance featuring an alpha god with commitment issues, and a steadfast omega who might not be ready to forgive.

 

~ THE NEW OLYMPIANS ~

Book 1 ~ Lightning Strikes (ZEUS)
Book 2 ~ Rip Tide (POSEIDON)
Book 3 ~ By the Book (HADES)
Book 4 ~ Swift Wings (HERMES)
Book 5 ~ Marble Heart (ARES)
FREEBIE ~ Immortal's Wish (Holiday novella)
Book 6 ~ Eternal Fire (HEPHAESTUS)
Book 7 ~ Phoebus (APOLLO)
Book 8 ~ Spark of Romance (EROS)
Book 9 ~ Spark of Chaos (DIONYSUS)
Book 10 ~ Spark of Remembrance (BOREAS)

• Language: English
• Publisher: FireHive Media
• Release date: Sep 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215542033

Book preview

Prologue

Thousands of years ago, the gods of Olympus were cursed by the goddesses they had wronged with their insatiable appetite for carnal pleasure. Hera, tired of her husband Zeus’ wandering eye, had rallied the other goddesses to her cause.

As one, they turned upon their former lovers and took away the very thing that gave them the most joy.

When Zeus discovered Hera’s betrayal, his anger shook the heavens and split Olympus in two. The goddesses fled to the only sanctuary they knew: the island of Delos in the Aegean Sea.

Some stayed with Hera to comfort her and fuel her rage while others disappeared into the mortal world to hide from Zeus’ wrath among their creations. 

Doomed to be alone with his brothers and sons on Olympus, Zeus brooded for centuries, cursing Hera’s name and wallowing in self-pity. But one day, something changed. 

A prophecy that had been long forgotten was deciphered by Hades, Lord of the Dead. This prophecy held the promise that Zeus hungered for. The promise he would no longer be alone, and that Hera’s curse could be undone. 

In their exile, the goddesses had broken their own vows and coupled with mortals as they had in ancient times. The children born of these unions were demigods, carriers of a divine spark that rendered them immune to Hera’s curse.

They alone would be granted the ability to bear the divine children of the gods… They alone would be able to survive the love of a god. 

All that remained was for each denizen of Olympus to discover the spark that was meant for him. 

There was no neutral ground in this war between the immortals, and even Hermes, who had prided himself on neutrality, found that when the truth came for him, he had no choice but to take a stand. 

Scattered throughout the mortal world, it was impossible to predict where and when these mortals would appear, but something about them drew the gods closer. 

One by one, Zeus and his brothers found their sparks, and Olympus, once quiet and left to the winds that blew high above the clouds, was once again filled with laughter and the sound of children. 

Hera’s anger had been dampened, but it still burned deep, and even though the curse had been broken, there was still a chance the Queen of Heaven could return.

One by one, the goddesses had turned on Hera and returned to Olympus in search of forgiveness—and Zeus had granted it. 

If the Fates could turn their anger and judgment aside, so could he. 

With the gods free to return to their old ways, there were some who craved the sweet agony of a bond only the Fates could provide, an intense connection and a heat between lovers only a divine spark could produce.

How could any god deny themselves such a thing?

There was one god who would deny he had ever desired such a thing in the first place… Until the unavoidable truth caught up with him in the most unexpected way possible. 

1

Apollo

OLYMPUS

The sound of childish laughter followed me through the marble halls of Olympus.

I couldn’t escape it now. 

I loved them all, of course. My nieces and nephews; the New Olympians. Miniature gods and goddesses born of mortal flesh… But that mortal flesh carried a spark of divine blessing; the evidence that the goddesses who had cursed us could not keep their own promises. 

Hypocrites. 

Amphitrite walked through the columns, head held high as she carried Ares’ new daughter on her hip while Poseidon’s lover, Brooke, his belly swelling with a second pregnancy, kept pace with her.

I couldn’t say it aloud.

Hypocrites.

But the word beat in my brain like a hammer pounding against a bronze shield.

In this place, under my father’s watchful eye, I was someone else. I was aloof. The healer, the teacher, the confidant. 

It was tiresome. 

All of it. 

My father marched through Olympus, a victorious hero.

It was what he always imagined himself to be—and he would let no one forget it. 

Zeus and his beloved Spark ruled over Olympus with an ease and grace I never would have expected from the Lord of the Skies. Hera’s absence had left an empty throne, and Cameron’s gentle and eager presence was a welcome change. The former Queen of Heaven’s judgments had always been too harsh. A statement my father would, no doubt, agree with. 

But, again, I couldn’t say such things aloud. 

The goddesses who had been welcomed back into the proverbial fold still hoped their immortal mistress would beg forgiveness. But they did not know Hera as I did.

No one did. 

Amphitrite and Brooke passed by, their smiles sweet and confident as only those whose immortalities are sure to be bright. 

Poseidon’s former love, and his new one, standing together. It was a miracle of forgiveness. One I could not understand. 

My smile felt forced, but I hoped they couldn’t tell. 

Who will be next? 

My father’s shout echoed through the marble columns, and I struggled to keep my expression neutral. 

Here on Olympus, I had no emotions. 

Here on Olympus, I was a servant. 

My escape? My peace? I found that on the mortal plane. 

I knew who would be next. I had seen it.

Prophecy, as much as I tried to escape it, was part of who I was. 

It didn’t mean I had to like what I saw. 

But what I had seen in the sacred smoke of Delphi was unclear… Four figures trapped in marble.

But what could it mean?

In ancient times, the priestesses of my temples were the ones who interpreted such things. But they were long dead. My worshippers had faded. Even my dreams were dim and left more questions than answers in their wake. 

But I could not escape them. 

I could not escape the image of those marble effigies.

Brother!

What now?

I turned, but it was too late to avoid the fact that Hephaestus was almost upon me. There was no use in hiding from him as I had tried to do when he was a boy. Rejected by both of his divine parents, he had been shunned by the whole of Olympus, but he had always found me. 

Persistent shit.

I took a deep breath. 

I’m surprised to see you here, I said with my usual level of detachment. My pace didn’t slow. 

Are you?

Hephaestus had not celebrated his victory over the Fates in any way that I could discern. My poor half brother had never quite recovered from the scars of his ill treatment. And he was wounded in more ways than I could measure. You could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, and everyone could see it in the fierce way his spark leapt to protect him at the slightest provocation.

Hephaestus’ limp was more pronounced here on Olympus, but it did not hinder his speed or my irritation. 

But it was not his fault, and I tried to swallow some of my frustration. 

Your first child was welcomed to Olympus only a short time ago, I said. Should you not be at Marco’s side?

Hephaestus chewed his lip, then smiled. He sleeps much more than I had anticipated, and the child is quiet… They do not need me there all the time. I have my work—

Which is loud, I said dryly. 

My brother laughed. An unavoidable side-effect of who I am.

I know I should smile, but it’s difficult to manage. 

The Lord of the Forge is a modest deity, soft-spoken and gentle, the complete opposite of his spark. Marco is brash and loud, argumentative and angry, but even I can admit they complement each other perfectly. 

What did you want?

Hephaestus’ expression changed as though he had forgotten entirely. Where are you going?

I hadn’t been going anywhere… I just needed to walk. 

Why?

Hephaestus crossed his arms over his broad chest as he looked up at me. Has our father spoken to you yet?

About what?

About who will be next?

Not this again. 

No, I said through gritted teeth. 

Have you had a vision?

Why does everyone care so much? Can’t they just be satisfied the curse had been lifted?

No.

It was a lie, but how could I explain what I had seen? Even I could not make sense of it. Not completely.

You’re not still angry that it was our uncle who unraveled the prophecy—

Hephaestus’ words died away as he caught my glare. Prophecies were my specialty. The fact that our uncle had been the one to discover the true meaning behind the prophecy that had set us free of Hera’s curse had been a thorn in my side for years, and every passing day only drove it deeper. My visions had been clouded, my ability to read the signs and sigils had been marred, and I couldn’t figure out why. 

It wasn’t the interpretation of the prophecy that irritated me; it was the fact that even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have done it myself. 

No, I said through gritted teeth. 

If you were, I wouldn’t judge you, my brother said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. 

We stood there in silence for a moment, but it felt like an eternity. My brother was an open book—the soot on his face and arms had been gained through hard work, and the light in his eyes was the happiness that his Spark had brought him. Hephaestus had the life, and the love, he had always deserved. Even our father had praise for him, which was no small feat. Hephaestus could forgive, and he had. But my father didn’t deserve his forgiveness, and Zeus didn’t deserve the happiness he’d wrung from the prophecy either. 

But that wasn’t for me to decide. 

As much as we all liked to forget it, the Fates were the ones in charge. Not us. Not