Striving for calm, she contemplated blowing herself a kiss. If ever anyone needed a sense of peace, it was Aerie in that moment. Mr. Finnegan hadn’t hesitated to insult her, and he didn’t even know her. She’d run into jerks like him before, had even jabbed them with her powers to let go of their hate and anger, and embrace the love. But she didn’t like to squander her gift on people who seemed a complete waste of oxygen.

And if anyone ever fit into that category, it was the jackass she’d just met.

Two hours later, in spite of attending to the details of the reception, the special dances, the photo-taking and shepherding the couple through their final obligations to their guests, Aerie remain conscious of the man’s presence. She continued to fume about their conversation. She should have poked him with her special inspiration. Maybe planted a suggestion to smile a little and enjoy the celebration of love he was at. Hell, she’d be better off hinting he should drop a daisy into the barrel of the gun he had under his suit coat. She’d seen the telltale bulge, and noted the way he held his arm away from his ribs. She’d had to bite her tongue to refrain from ordering him to leave.

Who brings a gun to a wedding reception? To be fair, he was a police officer. A lot of the people present were. There were probably a lot of firearms in the temple. Aerie hated guns. Life had been less…dangerous before the Chinese invented gunpowder. Although, there were spears and arrows. Men had always found ways to express their hate.

She paused to scan the crowd for Bernie, but, again, her gaze snagged on Mars. He was talking to Phillip, the look on both their faces grim as they studied her. Goddess, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been at a flawlessly executed wedding where more than one guest looked glum and morose.

But wait, Mars wasn’t looking at her; he was staring beyond her shoulder, a scowl carved into his forehead. She took a step toward him, but halted when a hand wrapped around her upper arm.

Before she looked, she knew who’d stopped her. The overwhelming scent of musk, smoke, and pine wafted through her senses. Tingling started at the point of contact and radiated toward her shoulder. Rather than erotic, the all-too-familiar sensation was repugnant.

“What are you doing here, Lykos?” Without facing him, she jerked her arm from his grip and took a step to the right, away from the notorious satyr.

Fitting that she should have to deal with this minor deity after her guilt about Troy had reared earlier. Lykos had been at that wedding as well.

He crowded in next to her. “It’s a wedding. Guaranteed someone’s getting fucked tonight. Where else would I be?”

“Lost in the forest?” she suggested hopefully.

That earned her a sultry chuckle. “You have such a delicious sense of humor.”

“Wasn’t trying to be funny.”

When he stroked his fingers along the exposed skin on her back she trembled, repulsed. She sidled another step to the right.

“Erato, you wound me.” He didn’t sound the least bit hurt when he used her birth name. He stepped in front of her, demanding her attention. “My little dove. The best place for a satyr is at a wedding. All the lovely, jealous bridesmaids, eager for a quick, hard fuck. I have my eye on the petite blonde, the one looking so forlorn in the corner there.”

She gave him a look, the one she normally reserved for the Daemones when those spirits came to call. A glower designed to dismiss. “That’s what the groomsmen are for. You should leave.” Craning to see over Lykos’s double-wide shoulders, she spied the girl in question. She did look lonely. Eyeing the groom’s single younger brother, she blew him a mental kiss, gratified to see him move toward the young woman after a momentary hesitation.

Aerie redirected her attention to Lykos. He’d been gifted in the looks department. Sleek black hair waved away from his forehead and fell to his shoulders, obsidian bedroom eyes, a perpetual tan, and muscles for miles. The satyr looked as fine in a suit as he did in a toga. He’d even rocked ruffled collars, pantaloons and tights in the seventeenth century.

Offspring of Hermes. Messenger of Dionysus…son of a bitch. Good for nothing and unfit for work.

And so freaking beautiful it hurt to look at him sometimes. But the literal wolf in sheep’s clothing knew it. The fact made him far less attractive. And he always smelled like day-old spunk. His odor stung her nostrils and made her lip curl as he crowded closer.

He drew a finger along her bicep. “I saw what you did. Be careful, or you might be required to take the mousy bridesmaid’s place riding my cock.”

Aerie repressed as shudder. “Never in any of my lifetimes.”

Lykos wrapped his lean fingers around her wrist, digging in. “Little Muse, you won’t spoil my fun. Perhaps I’ll invite the young man to join us when I take the blonde to a more secluded location. I’ll bet neither of them have experienced pleasure like that.”

He didn’t release her when she tugged, so she jerked harder, pulling from his grasp. “Leave them alone, Lykos.” He didn’t come to every wedding she planned, so his appearance at this particular event made her wary.

“Everything okay here?” Finn’s soft, deadly serious voice carried over her shoulder. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard the satyr’s indecent proposal? Or worse, had he heard Lykos call her Muse?

Fighting the urge to howl her frustration, Aerie twisted until she could keep both men—well, one man, one disgusting, oversexed deity—in her sights. “Perfectly. Lykos was simply being ill-mannered. Weren’t you, dear?” she sneered at him and patted his cheek.

He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm and trained his eyes on her. She kept her face placid when he stroked his tongue along her lifeline. What she wanted to do was rake her nails over his cheek until she drew blood.

Lykos gripped her wrist, squeezing just tight enough to be uncomfortable. His eyes snapped wickedly. “Is your lovely mother here today?”

The expression on the detective’s face turned flintier than it was moments ago.

The orchestra switched to a pop song and the dance floor got more crowded.

Aerie ignored the cop and squinted at Lykos, hitting him with a mental get-your-fucking-hands-off-me command. His nostrils flared as he dropped her hand, as if stung by a scorpion. Which was exactly the mental image she’d projected to his brain. Or rather his dick, since it was the head ruling the beast.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mars striding toward them, and felt Finnegan’s tension increase.

She answered Lykos’s question, hoping to hurry him away. “She was here with my father earlier. But they’ve left. Together.” The bastard had always been enamored with Gaia. Over the millennia, he’d made it a crusade to try to get her to stray from her devotion to Zeus.

Flashing her a sardonic smile, Lykos bowed slightly. “Please give her my best regards when next you see her. Tell her my offer still stands.”

Before Mars reached them, Lykos glided away, with the stealthy grace of a wolf on the hunt. and a telltale whiff of smoke and sex.

“Who was that jackass?” Finnegan crossed his bulky arms over his chest. The movement reminded her of someone, but every alpha male asshole employed the same gesture, meant to intimidate.

She refused to let it work on her.

“His name is Lykos.” Mars answered for her. He focused on the retreating satyr, then riveted a laser-like stare on Finn. “And he’s a wedding crasher from way back.”

That was weird. Animosity radiated from Mars. And seemed to be directed at the man standing at Aerie’s side. “Uncle Martin, do you know Mr. Finnegan?”

The cop’s posture was tauter than Cupid’s bowstring. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met. But I know of Mr. Pappandreou by reputation.” He slowly uncrossed his arms and extended a hand.

Both men’s knuckles whitened as they greeted each other. Stupid men and their constant dick measuring.

Mars lifted his chin. “Former military, right? Rangers, I’m guessing.”

“SEAL.” Finnegan’s reply was terse, like he wasn’t interested in speaking about it.

“Ah,” Mars pressed, “modern day gods of war.”

Oh fuck! Aerie discreetly elbowed Mars in the ribs. “Gentlemen, we are at a wedding, and the bride’s father is graciously offering a last call. Bar’s closing in ten minutes, if you care for a final cocktail.” The irony didn’t escape her—pushing booze on the cop after warning him to drink responsibly just a short while ago. But she was desperate.

Unfathomable brown eyes fastened on her face, and a muscle ticked in Finnegan’s jaw. A tiny thrill sped through her. To be the object of the intense scrutiny spiked her need to fidget. Or throw herself into his arms. Probably better to kick him in the shins with her pointy-toed high heels.

What she really wanted was to touch her lips to his frowning mug and spread peace and calm and happy into him with her special gift. The physical touch of her mouth to his was the only way to guarantee he’d let go of whatever demons had him in their grip. It wasn’t a trick she used often, but it might be warranted in his case. She settled for blowing him a mental kiss, a suggestion for him to back off.

As her nudge touched his mind, Finn blinked and his posture eased. “Actually, I was on my way out when that wolf accosted you.”

Wait, he’d known Lykos was a wolf satyr? “I beg your pardon?”

Beside her, Mars tensed to high alert status, his body coiled for action.

“I know his type. He’d cause trouble without a thought to the consequences.” Finnegan stared at her meaningfully. “He strikes me as a beater.”

“A beater?” The conversation leaped, dodging around too fast for Aerie to keep track of his train of thought.

Finnegan shrugged. “Wife beater, kid abuser. All around predator. The kind lovely women like you need protection from.”

He thought she was lovely?

But wait, he also didn’t think she could save herself if need arose. She bristled. “I don’t really need you, or any other man, saving me. I’ve taken care of myself for a very, very long time.”

Goddess, if he only knew just how long. She’d watched out for herself even back when women were routinely given to gladiators as prizes. One of her personal handmaidens had been stolen and given to Crixus. He might have been the Undefeated Gaul, but Aerie had kicked his ass and reclaimed the girl before she’d been violated.

Mars stepped back, giving her space, as though sensing her ire with this…this…mortal. He patted her on the shoulder but focused on Finn, and diverted the topic to one less combustible. “I’m an old military man myself. I’d enjoy sitting down with you to swap stories. Maybe coffee one day soon.”

That’s all she needed. For the God of War to hash out his glory days with a police officer. He’d probably regale the guy with stories of how he single-handedly vanquished the Titans the first time around. Not like they’d stayed vanquished. Two of them sat on the Olympus Board of Directors.

Finn grunted, the sound noncommittal. Without cracking a smile to ease the unforgiving lines of his face, he nodded at her. “Again, please accept my apologies if I’ve offended in any way. It’s been a…rough day.” Some emotion haunted his gaze, and he quickly dipped his head. “I’ll let you know about coffee, Martin. Nice to meet you both.”

His long-legged stride had him across the temple in the span of a few heartbeats. He’d been a boorish man from the moment she met him. The kind of man she had spent all her lifetimes avoiding.

So why was this guy so damned intriguing?

She spun on her uncle and unleashed all her confusion. “Mars, I can’t believe you said that about gods of war. What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I know him.” He shoved his fist into his pants pocket and tipped his head, watching Finn’s exit. He murmured, more to himself than to her. “But I don’t know how. And that bothers the piss out of me.”

Patting his cheek, she quipped, “Hard to believe after all these years your memory is slipping. Can deities get Alzheimer’s?”

“Niece, I do not know whether to hug you, or swat you like a harpy.”

“A hug would be nice. It’s been a long day and I have a bad feeling the respite from Pierus’s challenge is about to expire.”

“We’ve conquered the magpie bitches four times thus far. We have this.” Mars wrapped her in a comforting hug.

“And you could tell me the name of my partisan.” Aerie prodded his mind to see if she could locate the information about the supernatural guardian assigned to her. Each of her sisters had a protector, but they’d never been revealed until absolutely necessary. But his mind looked like a cast iron door marked with stark red letters spelling out No Admittance.

“You will know when you need to.” Mars’s chest rumbled under her cheek.

“I want to know now,” she complained, knowing beyond a doubt her uncle wasn’t about to tell her.

“I see a counseling session with Chronos is in order.”

“I’m not sure we have time for a meet and greet with the god of hours.” Aerie’s voice was muffled against Mars’s big chest.

“Consider this a lesson about time management and patience, Aerie.” He chuckled again and tightened his arms. If she could have, she’d have shrugged. He’d tell her when he was good and ready.

The warmth and steadfastness of his embrace had eased the tension still lingering from Lykos’s visit and her encounters with a certain police officer. Thankfully, the satyr had disappeared, but the blonde and the groom’s brother were molded together as one of the last couples on the dance floor. Somehow, Aerie had missed the newly married couple’s departure.

Pulling a camera over his head, Phillip strolled across the space to join her. Mars pressed a kiss to her forehead, nodded to Phillip, spun with military crispness, and marched away.

“I got some great shots of the happy couple departing,” Phillip reported. “Bernie got the Morgans into the limo and they are on their way to the bridal suite at the resort.”

“Thanks, Phillip. I appreciate you wrapping it up without my help. I’ve been a little distracted.”

Phillip hesitated, as though trying to make up his mind. He nodded and rushed on. “So, you know Mike Finnegan?”

“Just met him tonight. Why?”

“Just some, er, not great gossip about him.”

Now she was intrigued. She loved a juicy story, and from the look on his face, Phillip had a great tale. “Spill it.”

“He’s been on disciplinary leave a couple times in the past two years. Seems he has anger management issues. Word is, he has a hair trigger.”

“Really?” She wondered whether that aspect affected every area of his life. Heat flared under the skin of her cheeks, and she crammed the thought back into the deepest recesses of her mind.

“Yeah. My friend, Denise, in the evidence room, said he claims he blacks out and never remembers losing it.”

She recalled his expression when he mentioned beaters. Like they were scum he’d scrape from his shoe. “Has he hurt someone?”

“I don’t think so, but Denise said he can be frightening. Like the epitome of hate.”

Funny, she hadn’t gotten that vibe from him at all. Yeah, he was gruff, and definitely a hard-assed cynic, but hate-filled? She didn’t see it.

“Anyway, I was just going to caution you to steer clear of him.”

Something she’d already planned to do, regardless of how magnetic she found the man. “Thanks, I appreciate the warning. But I can take care of myself.”

“It never hurts to have a little extra help.” Phillip gripped the camera strap tightly. “I’m taking off now. You be careful.”

Why was everyone warning her to be careful? Low-grade anxiety circled in her gut. She hadn’t seen any signs of the magpies or Pierus, but the memory from earlier, of her awakening, arose in her mind’s eye. A feeling, call it a foretelling, settled around her shoulders; the brief hiatus was about to end. She only hoped her premonition didn’t mean it was her turn to face Pierus’s challenge. Now that would suck monkey balls.