Hey, hey,
I know...it’s been three months...again. What can I say? Blogging just ain’t my thang. But since I have a new release coming out this Tuesday - the 18th of March/08 - I thought I’d better get my butt in gear. The cover for Forgive and Forget is in my book lineup pics, But since it’s so pretty, I thought I’d give you a blown up version:
Many thanks to Anne Cain of Loose ID for all her hard work, and for masking that broken blood vessel in Apollo’s nose. Lol.
Now, I already posted an excerpt from this novella. You can find it a few entries back, so today I’m going to give you the original myth this little tale was based on, and then my take on what really happened. I think you’ll agree that it was just dying to be made into a BDSM oriented MMM Menage story... or perhaps that’s just me. A pic to get you in the mood:
Zephyrus and Hyacinth 480 BC
The myth: Hyacinth was an exceptionally handsome young man who excited the love of both Apollo and Zephyrus, god of the west wind. Hyacinth professed his love for Apollo, and the jealous Zephyrus raised his winds so that a discus thrown by Apollo killed the youth. Heartbroken, Apollo had the hyacinth flower bloom where the young man died.
Okay. That’s nice. Short and sweet, right?
But...what if Zephyrus was really in love with Apollo, not Hyacinth? And what if he hadn’t meant to kill Hyacinth, at all, but was in fact trying to let the boy win because Hyacinth had believed that Apollo could only love him if he proved himself Apollo’s equal; and since Apollo had spurned Zephyrus’s love, Zephyrus just wanted the sun god to be happy - even if it was with someone else? Wait, though. Wait... What if it turned out that Apollo really did love Zephyrus. He just doesn’t remember the fact because - somehow - his memory of that love has been taken from him? That would be a bit of a mind-fuck, wouldn’t it?
Cut to three-thousand years later. Zephyrus has been watching the blood-line of Livana - Hyacinth’s sister - for all these years, hoping to find a passable duplicate of Hyacinth. Lucas is perfect, almost identical in appearance to the Spartan Prince, and just as much of a pain slut as his great...great...you get the idea...Uncle.
Zephyrus offers Lucas to Apollo...hoping to mend their shattered relationship and to open the lines of communication again. He’s resigned himself to the fact that Apollo doesn’t love him, but he just has to know...What the hell happened?
Thus begins Forgive and Forget - a twisted tale of love, revenge, and deep, dark desires.
Alright, one more tiny excerpt, just ’cause:
As they arrived, candles flared to life in the many golden wall sconces spaced around the walls, bathing the marble in butter yellow light. Their feet sank inches deep into his custom-made white and ivory rugs. Apollo’s bed, raised on a foot-high marble pedestal, sumptuous with gold lamé pillows and white satin sheets, glowed like a holy alter in front of them. As it should. Fucking was Apollo’s true religion.
"Merde!" Lucas cried. He clutched Zephyrus.
Zephyrus looked vaguely panicked when he realized where Apollo had sent them. "Okay, then. I’m going to go," he said, trying to disengage from the boy.
"No," Lucas cried. "Stay. Please."
"He won’t hurt you, Lucas."
"Beg to differ," Apollo said.
Lucas twisted his body into Zephyrus’s.
"Not helping, asshole!"
Apollo grinned at the show of spirit. He’d forgotten how much he used to love ruffling Zephyrus’s feathers. Apollo pressed himself against Lucas’s back. His cock nestled between the boy’s ass cheeks, and Apollo couldn’t resist a little bump and grind against the taut, velvet-clad globes. "Anyway, darlin’," he leaned down to whisper. His tongue traced Lucas’s ear as he spoke. "You’ll have a safe word."
Zephyrus’s gulp was only heard because Apollo’s face was mere inches from his mouth. Apollo raised his eyes. Had he made Zephyrus use a safe word, too? He must have -- he almost always did. Funny that he couldn’t remember, though. That long-ago night with the wind god was a strange, empty blur in Apollo’s mind. He must have been really loaded.
"Goldenrod," Apollo said to Lucas. He’d been using the same word for forever. Zephyrus’s expression was strained. "Your word is goldenrod, Lucas. All right?" Apollo’s voice soothed while his hands stroked gentle up and down the boy’s sides.
Lucas’s trembling began to abate. "Goldenrod," he repeated. "All right." His head came back to rest against Apollo’s chest. His arms still loosely wrapped Zephyrus’s waist. When Zephyrus again tried to unwind them, they tightened. "I want Zephyrus to stay, though," Lucas said, looking shyly up at the sun god. "Please?"
"No."
"Sure."
"No," Zephyrus said again. "This isn’t about me." He was more forceful this time in pushing Lucas away. So forceful that his shove moved not only Lucas back, but the god behind him, as well. "I’m going now."
Apollo reached out to snare Zephyrus’s hair before the wind god could dissipate. Such long hair really was a terrible vulnerability. He began tugging Zephyrus toward his body. "No, it’s about Lucas," he said. He smiled down at the boy and used his free hand to cup Lucas’s jaw, angling his head back even more so that Apollo could press a kiss to those perfect lips. "And if Lucas wants you here, then here you’ll stay," he finished.