Ever since I was a young girl I was fascinated with mythology. There was something magical and special about the legends of Heracles, Achilles, Perseus, and Odysseus. I would spend hours reading books about the Greek pantheon. I cannot recall how many times I have watched the first Clash of the Titans movie. More times than a grown woman should, that`s for sure. I am a huge fan of Edith Hamilton, and use her novels as some writers use a dictionary or a thesaurus. It always struck me as sad that some people couldn`t enjoy mythology as I did, but given how it`s presented in classrooms from elementary school through college, it`s no wonder so many hate Greek mythology.
I`ve tried, through my writing, to bring the gods to life. I`ve gone in and blown the dust bunnies off Zeus` marble nose and ran my Swiffer over Hera`s peacock feather fan. With Love of the Hunter, my M/M mythological romance, I`ve taken things a step further and have rewritten one of the classic Greek legends. In this book you will see how Apollo, the most Greek of all the gods, meets and falls in love with Orion, the famed archer. This new adult romance is a dramatic one, make no mistake. There is a reason they call these tales Greek tragedies. Love of the Hunter is filled with pain and suffering, but the sadness is tempered with a love so deep it was immortalized in the heavens forever.
Here`s a small sample from Love of the Hunter-
“You are a shameful man!” Orion glowers then gives me another shove. I fling out an arm to block him lest he strike out again. The man is strong, and his punches rock me soundly. “What possesses you to speak to your sister – your twin – in such a reprehensible manner?”
“What is said between her and I is not your concern!” I yell in his face then stalk past him, my shoulder meeting his. Orion grunts. I do not, although the contact pained me badly. My cape snaps around my ankles as I enter my bedchamber. My lover follows me. The wolves leave in the face of my anger. The door slams shut. I rip my cape from my shoulders and throw it to the corner. Turning, I come nose to nose with Orion. Undaunted and brazen my lover is. That is why he stood and fought Helios instead of begging forgiveness.
“What is said between you and her is my concern for it centers on me!” he shouts, his green eyes alive with his ire.
“So you defend this sick attraction she has for you? Why?” I demand to know. “Are you *#*# her? Is that why?”
I let him hit me. I see the huge fist coming, and I allow it. The crunch of my nose breaking is liberating. Golden ichor gushes from my nostrils. I fall back into the wall, my arms getting caught in the thick teal drapery that hangs from the posts of the bed. I grasp a post for balance. My tongue darts out to catch a bit of the godly blood flowing down over my lips and chin.
I find Orion staring at me as if horrified.
“Apollo,” he pants, his meaty fist dangling by his thigh.
“Nay,” I cough, swallow, and then grab the curtain up to run it under my nose. The flow will stop in a moment; I am a god after all. “You did well. There are times that I require a sound punch to the face.”
“I will not hear you speak of Artemis so.” Orion steps closer. I hold the drapery tightly to my face, my eyes watery as I peek over the bloody material covering my nose and mouth. “She has been a veritable blessing during the long hours that you are gone. She tends my back, brings me well-cooked game, sings and laughs with me. She tells me stories and washes my hair.”
“She loves you, Orion.” I raise the drapery back to my nose.
He stares at me dully. He blinks at me as if I had just said something incomprehensible. “Nay,” he says, his eyes leaping from me to his feet then to me again. He shakes his head.
“Aye,” I mumble into the material over my face.
“Nay, she is naught but a sister to me,” he says.
I drop the teal silk. A small trickle is all that remains of the bloody nose. “That is how you see her. It is not how see looks upon you,” I tell him gently. I fear a feather landing on him would send him to the floor.
He drops to the end of the bed. The thick mattress compresses under his massive body. I sit down beside him. We both stare at our feet. I sniffle occasionally.
“Orion, she has loved you for quite some time. Do you not recall her saying she had watched you before meeting you? I know her -- she is smitten.”
“But she knows I am your lover,” he mutters. I sit straighter and glance over at him.
“Yes, she does.” I reach over to take the hands hanging like dead fish over his knees in mine. “And that I cannot abide. You are mine. I will not share you with anyone. I will not allow her infatuation with you to grow. I should have been firmer about it before this, but I worried about leaving you here sickly and alone.”
“You do not need worry for me,” he says, bristling at the jab at his masculinity. I squeeze his hands.
“Orion, you are still pale. Even if you were returned to robust health, I would worry when you were gone from my side,” I tell him, lifting his hands to my lips. I kiss each scarred knuckle. His jade eyes rise from his feet to meet mine. “Look upon our hands,” I say, rolling his over then showing him mine. “I have no scars upon me. You do.” I press my lips against a raised white welt that runs across the back of his right hand. “You are only half god. Your blood is not gold, it is red. Death will come for you and take you from me. This is unavoidable. So I worry. I will worry each time I cannot place my sight upon you. It is not a slur against your manhood or virility, it is simply the knowledge that I cannot die and you can. I would postpone your demise as long as I possibly can.”
“Your tongue is gilded and golden, Apollo,” he smiles weakly. “How does a man talk a man who just hit him in the face from his anger? How do you make me long for nothing aside from being in your arms?”
“I am the god of poetry and rhyme, my love,” I counter seeing his gaze shift from my mouth to my amber eyes. I nod.
He leans in to capture my mouth. We fall back onto the bed, our mouths moving over each other’s slowly. We lay side by side, kissing, exploring, touching and cupping, stroking and teasing. We strip each other slowly, kissing each exposure of flesh.
You can pick up your copy of Love of the Hunter here at the Torquere Press/Prizm website-
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