Ares settles down with his wife, Alena, to await the birth of their son, Raven. As Alena struggles to enjoy what should be a blessed event, prophetic visions of an adult Raven haunt her dreams. Are they true visions or false ones implanted by Cernunnos who told her the boy would bring glory to Ares but only pain and agony to her? The strong but delicate Fey is relentlessly bombarded by hostility from the Olympians making her yearn to be back on Ares’ secluded island home, far away from all the bickering and backstabbing that makes up Life on mighty Mount Olympus.
Before Raven is even born, Zeus outwardly despises him for his Fey blood given to him by his filthy Celtic mother. With no way out and no way to keep his family safe from his father, Zeus the God of Gods, Ares enters into a blood pact that could cost the God of War everything he holds dear.
After a harrowing birth wherein mother and son are nearly lost to Ares, it quickly becomes clear that Raven may be the most powerful and cunning Olympian ever born despite his muddled bloodline.
As Zeus, Apollo, and Aphrodite plot against the new family by carefully planting the seeds of rage and doubt in Ravens’ mind, they turn son against mother. It appears as though Alenas’ visions and Cernunnos’ prophecy are coming to life as Raven grows to be a very angry young man.
As the true past between the Olympians and Celts is revealed, the battle for Ravens; mind and the ultimate control of Olympus begins. Before its over, the white snows of Olympus will run red with blood.
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With nothing but insults for Apollo and Aphrodite brewing within him, Ares drew in a deep breath, held it and let it out with an unspoken but still understood purpose before kissing his Mother’s cheek once more. “Good to see you as always,” he said sincerely, retaining his composure so that he could walk away from the troublemakers to where his Wife was waiting. Yet, Ares being Ares, he couldn’t accomplish this and he turned back to Aphrodite with fire in his eyes. “On her worst day, Alena is a better Lover than you could ever conceive of being,” he spat at Aphrodite. “Not because of her skill or her experience,” he interjected as he watched her mouth drop open to speak, “but because of her passion. You fuck like no other, Goddess of Love, but my Wife makes love in ways you can only dream of.”
“Dream of…of puh-le…”
“Because you’re like them,” Ares pointed off to those seated around Alena, “your heart is cold as ice even when your body burns like the midday sun.”
“As if,” Aphrodite retorted.
“So, unlike Alena and me, although you may lay there breathless and spent, you’ll never know what true satisfaction—that undeniable connection—feels like,” Ares finished, ignoring her defensive but seemingly offhanded statement. Watching her eyes widen and her face fall, Ares felt a certain satisfaction wash over him just before he turned on his heels and made his way away from them.
“No more trouble,” Hera warned seriously. “Alena isn’t well and this will be her last night with us until after the baby is born, so both of you need to be on your best behavior.” She gazed down at the two. In a bladed tone Hera added, “Am I clear?”
“Crystal as ever, my dearest step-Mother,” Apollo crooned as Aphrodite picked away the last of the spinach from his face and then laid a peck upon his full lips. “We want no trouble,” he assured quietly.
By the time Ares crossed the room to hand the plateful of goodies to his Wife, Eros had his hands on her belly. Although his eyes were closed, his wings were fluttering ever so slightly as his lips broke out into a shy smile. “My Brother is very strong, Maggie.”
“Yes, he is,” agreed Ares, “now get out of my seat, boy.”
Eros looked up at his Father, his upper lip curled and his eyes rolled in their sockets, but he rose as commanded and then gestured toward where he’d been sitting with a wave of his hand. “I was keeping it warm for you, Father.”