The Men of Otherworld: Collection One by Yasmine Galenorn Page B

through his thoughts and he whirled, racing toward the door. As he burst into the parlor, the first thing he saw was a Fraale, trying to escape from the clutches of a tall, white haired man who was attempting to kiss her. Roz leaped forward, grabbing hold of the man’s arm to pull him off his wife.  
    With one shrug, the man tossed him aside like he was a limp rag. Roz shook his head, sitting up dazed. What the hell? He was strong—the man looked older, how could he have...? And then he noticed what the man was wearing. A white cloak over a white and gold gown, belted by a golden sash. A faint bluish glow surrounded him, and when he turned to look at Rozurial, his eyes were the glow of early morning sky.
    “ Zeus… ” Roz slowly stood up. “Zeus?” he whispered again.
    The god let out a grumbling sigh and, taking his hands off Fraale, turned to Rozurial and crossed his arms. “Doesn’t anyone ever kneel anymore?”
    Roz’s eyes narrowed. When he was very young, he had hidden away, watching his family forced to kneel at the feet of a monster. He had never knelt to anyone, no matter who they were. And he didn’t plan to start now
    “Leave my wife alone. Leave my house. Go now, and we part in peace.’
    Zeus glanced at Fraale, who was adjusting her dress. She backed away, skirting towards Roz, the expression on her face one of mingled terror and disbelief.
    “Fine way of showing hospitality to a wandering stranger.” Zeus’s words were mildly slurred and, as he hiccupped, the scent of wine filled the air.
    Great. Not only a lecherous god, but a drunken lecherous god. Roz knew better than attack him again—he no longer had the element of surprise, and the truth was, now that he realized it was Zeus standing before him, he was scared shitless. Gods didn’t play by mortal rules and while they could be killed, it would take someone far stronger than Rozurial to manage it. Not to mention the fact that, should he manage to actually hurt the god, the rest of the Olympians would be on his ass and he’d be toast.  
    Fraale was almost to Roz’s side when a whirl of wind swept through the door and a woman suddenly stood at the entrance, glaring at Zeus. She too, wore white robes and gold adornments, and her hair was coiled on her head in golden ringlets. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced from Zeus to Fraale, then back again to Zeus.
    “I knew it. I knew you were gallivanting again. And what do I find? You, slumming with the dregs of the Fae. You can’t even keep yourself to our station—the nymphs would be better than this! Look at her—she’s not even pretty .”
    Hera. It had to be Hera. Which meant they could be in one hell of a lot of trouble. Zeus was bad enough but the two had a marriage made in hell, and rumor had it that if you ended up between them when they were arguing, you might as well kiss your ass goodbye.
    Roz slowly reached out for Fraale’s hand and, once it was secure in his, began edging his way toward the door. If they could make it outside, they might be able to hide until the divine couple patched things up and left. At worst, Roz thought, they could just leave town and start over somewhere else.
    His plan might have worked—they almost had managed to reach the door—when Hera spun around, breaking off from browbeating Zeus who was listening to her with an Oh, fuck, here we go again look on his face.
    “Where do you think you’re going?” Hera was suddenly in front of them, moving in a blur of speed. “I did not give you permission to leave.” Her eyes were steely blue, and Roz’s stomach lurched at the wave of anger rolling off the goddess. It raced like a tidal wave, surrounding both him and Fraale, forcing them to their knees. Roz struggled against the pressure, but found himself unable to move or speak.  
    Fraale let out a whimper as Hera stepped closer and reached out to cup her chin. “So, you are the girl who captured my husband’s attention this time, are you?” Her voice