Lanterns hung in the trees lining the path to the temple hidden deep in the woodland. A gentle breeze swayed the flames. Flickering shadows bounced off the pine straw walkway and the dark trunks of the ancient Rowan trees. With an undeniable spring in her step, she progressed down the path.

Tonight was the one-hundred-twenty-seventh time she’d walked toward her destiny. But it was only the first time in this new millennium. She remembered every awakening ceremony, as if it were yesterday.

She’d felt the first stirring of her powers three weeks previously and immediately reported it to Gaia. Her heart had leapt in her chest, bright and hopeful that this existence would be different. This time she’d find what she’d been denied in every other incarnation.

This time she’d find the kind of passionate, all-consuming love she’d never had.

It was only appropriate that Erato, Muse of Romantic Love, should actually experience the emotion so easily inspired in others at least once in all her lives.

Her parents, Zeus and Gaia, were already in the temple, awaiting her arrival along with her uncles, aunts, and other guests summoned from Olympus for the celebration. Her sisters escorted her toward her destiny, five who’d already attained their powers ahead, the three still unawakened bringing up the rear. She still recalled the single existence where she’d been the eldest, and first to have her powers reinstated. Leading each of her sisters down the pathway had been glorious.

First born this time was Calliope, and she led Terpsichore, Clio, Polyhymnia, and Urania into the temple. Filing in behind Zeus, the Muses sank gracefully onto the antique stone benches fitted with plush pillows. Euterpes, Melpomene, and Thalia hadn’t attained their awakening yet, and were required to remain standing outside the temple. Gaia beamed an encouraging smile their direction, then focused solely on Erato as she stepped into the marble and limestone structure.

The solemnity and silence of her progression into the temple was broken by the screech of a magpie. The single bird was joined by a cacophony of squawks as the nasty bird’s siblings added their calls to the chorus. In the trees over Zeus’s shoulder nine sets of eyes glowed red. Why were they here? And why now? Was this a portent that the Muses would face a challenge from Pierus again in this lifetime? He hadn’t surfaced for nearly one thousand years. Would this be the time he tried again to free his children?

She pressed her hands to her ears, drawing her shoulders up. One of the curses of being reborn with memories from all previous existences was that the good came with the truly awful.

“Aerie!”

Her assistant’s demand for attention jarred Aerie Thanos back to the present. A shudder crawled down her spine as she emerged from the memory, scanning the trees surrounding the temple in the woods. It had been so real. She expected to see the five remaining magpies roosting in one of the pines. Four of Aerie’s sisters had already conquered the challenge set forth by Pierus three months ago. Although it appeared the challenge was on hiatus, the Muses remained vigilant. They hadn’t seen hide nor scary hair of Pierus and his brats for three weeks.

A very good thing, because October marriages were second only to June. And the wedding reception Aerie had so meticulously planned, and had worried would be ruined by the ongoing challenge, was moving along without a hitch.

In this existence, her role was wedding planner. It was a treat to be able to rent the temple on the grounds of the Athenian Resort for receptions. The very same temple where she’d embraced her powers at the age of eighteen.

She loved the Corinthian columns edging the space. The pediment above the openings depicted woodland nymphs and some of the more lovable satyrs. Perfect for a newly married couple. The limestone ceiling was painted with faded scenes from some of Dionysus’s legendary parties.

Plus, she always scored a rental discount for the newlyweds, since her parents owned the joint.

“It’s time to cut the cake.” Bernie gripped Aerie’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and twisted her head toward the kissing bride and groom.

Bernadette Montgomery had been Aerie’s assistant since she’d first opened Dearly Beloved, her wedding planning business, five years ago. They’d built a solid reputation. Aerie had a proven track record for planning successful events. As a bonus, her couples stayed together beyond the twelve-month milestone. Of course, making couples stick was part of her job as the Muse of Romantic Love. Putting them together and making them last. The wedding party was just icing on the cake and a perfect cover for Aerie’s true purpose.

Tipping her chin away from Bernie’s fingers, Aerie asked, “Did you find the cake server and knife?” The utensils had been missing thirty minutes earlier. Couldn’t cut the cake without them.

“The MOG had them. She was afraid someone might steal them.”

“Of course, she was.” Aerie scanned the guests, looking to see if anyone looked suspicious. Nope, not a single shady-looking person in attendance. Of course, the groom was a cop and many of the guests were co-workers of his.

Aerie pursed her lips. The mother of the groom had been a pain in her ass from the get-go, questioning every detail. Oh, for the days when the MOG just smiled and wore beige. After their last menu-planning meeting, Aerie had resorted to blowing the woman one of her Musy kisses—delivering an inspirational nudge. Her sister, Nia, mumbled her nudges, and Callie only scowled hers, but that wasn’t for Aerie. She blew kisses toward the target.

She didn’t like to nudge people outside her realm of influence, but in this case, it was a necessity. The supernatural kiss she sent toward the MOG came with instructions to respect the wishes of the bride and groom. If they wanted carrot cake at their reception, they should have it.

Now, the bride’s mother interrupted the couple mid-smooch. She backed her way across the room, dragging the laughing pair toward the elaborate four-tiered cake. Aerie rolled her shoulders, but didn’t hide her grin. “Despite her take charge ways, I do love this bride-mom. She’s all about sticking to the timeline. Let’s go.”

She led Bernie across the marble dance floor, signaling the head of the wait-staff to join them.

Phillip Cantrell, the pricey photographer, fell in behind them. The man was a genius at coaxing just the right look from couples. He had three cameras on straps hanging off his neck, and a fourth held in front of his face, snapping pictures as the newly married pair approached the large round table at the pronaos, or porch, of the temple. He shook a shock of his wheat-colored hair from his eyes, his finger clicking the button.

“Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” Aerie addressed them. The bride’s smile shifted from happy to incandescent as Aerie used her new title. “As soon as you cut the cake, the dancing can begin. The band is setting up now.” She swept her arm sideways to indicate the stage.

Aerie keyed her headset and spoke quietly to her lights and sound employee. “Larry, dim the house lights and turn on the spot over the cake.”

“Roger that.” Larry had started at Dearly Beloved around the same time as Bernie, and the two became inseparable within weeks. Three years ago, Aerie helped them plan their own wild and crazy ceremony and reception. An event she still smiled about.

As the chandeliers dimmed, fairy lights strung in the trees surrounding the temple twinkled in a slight breeze. Creamy frosting on the cake gleamed brightly as the overhead spot hit full strength.

The Morgans posed, all smiles and sweet touches as Phillip continued to snap photos. Hands joined, as their lives had been, the couple sliced the cake and fed each other. Before the groom could smash a piece in the bride’s face, Aerie blew a discreet kissy nudge, telling him to play nice. His expression blanked for a beat, then turned tender as he gently fed a morsel to the missus. He tongued away the excess frosting from her smiling lips.

Aerie swept another gaze around the room, scanning the elegantly attired attendees. Her eyes snagged on one guest in particular. The man was hard to miss due to his height, his craggy, almost handsome but seriously frowning visage. Although he filled out his suit nicely…very nicely…he seemed uncomfortable, as if being in the midst of the fancy-dressed guests made the back of his throat itch. Dark close-cropped hair waved away from his temples. His muscular build made Aerie long to dig her fingers into the biceps stretching his coat sleeves. He wasn’t what she’d call husky, but his shoulders definitely strained the fabric of his black suit coat. The white, button-down shirt reflected the low light. He’d loosened his red tie and pulled it to the left. Dark pants accentuated the man’s long legs.

She hadn’t seen him at the ceremony. She’d remember him. Or at least, she’d recall his scowl.

He’d caught her eye and she found it impossible to drag her gaze away. She stopped suddenly and Bernie plowed into her from behind. “Bernie, who’s that man?”

“Don’t know, but he looks scary.” Bernie righted her hipster glasses with the totally fake lenses.

Aerie frowned and did a quick mental scan of the guest list. She’d trained her mind to recall details like names, table assignments, and which guests ordered the vegetarian option on the menu. Unfortunately, the bride wasn’t from Delphi originally, so some names on the seating chart were unfamiliar.

A whine burst forth from the speakers. The orchestra hired by the bride’s parents was conducting a final sound check.

Aerie would have to think about the rugged guest later. She pivoted to head to the stage and caught sight of her uncle, Mars, known away from Olympus as Martin Pappandreou. For the second time in the past minute, the sight of a man’s face stopped Aerie in her tracks. Mars leaned against one of the marble columns, arms folded over his chest, biceps pulling the seams on his suit jacket, just as the other man’s had. While his posture was nonchalant, his expression remained alert.

Perplexed might be a better way to describe his look. He also stared at the stranger who’d snagged Aerie’s attention a moment ago. Mars’s blue eyes nearly glowed in the low light in the room. Although the brightness of his eyes would be barely perceptible to mortals, it was a lighthouse beacon to her, a sure sign his supernatural, godlike senses were processing something confusing. Lips parted and eyebrows scrunched, Mars studied the stranger, as if trying to place him, but coming up short.

Bernie tugged Aerie’s gauzy sleeve. “Aerie, are you coming? The band leader looks like he’s about to blow a fuse.”

Pushing away thoughts of her uncle’s odd look, she double-timed it behind Bernie to the stage. Known for her efficiency, the assistant pulled the plug-in from one speaker, abruptly halting the annoying feedback, and then she jabbed it into the correct spot.

Within two minutes, the musicians took their spots and struck up the jazzy rendition of an Andrews Sisters tune the Morgans had picked for their first dance. With the dancing underway, Aerie left the reception in Bernie’s hands and stepped outside for a short break.

Drawing in deep breaths, she wandered under the fairy lit trees behind the pavilion. Nearby, waves from the small lake broke softly, rhythmically, as they lapped the shoreline. A gentle breeze caressed the skin exposed by the plunging back of her dress. The high neck and deep scoop-backed dress was one of her most glamorous.

Taking a seat atop an outdoor picnic table, she folded her torso over the tops of her thighs to ease the gripping back muscles. It was a problem that plagued her frequently. The type of ache that accompanied being on her feet for twelve to fourteen hours on wedding event days. From her spot, she noted servers clearing dishes and coffee cups as more and more people joined the crush on the smooth marble dance floor.

Satisfaction swept through her stomach as she watched the newlyweds sway together. No way in Hades this couple would end up on the rocks. Aerie had read it in their souls that they were meant for each other, before she’d nudged them closer together. She was the damned Muse of Love. When she made a match, it stuck.

Except for that one time. To this day, she didn’t feel fully recovered for the debacle of Helen of Troy. It was the one time in history she’d used her gift to try to break a couple up. Her dreams were still invaded by the screams of the Trojans as the Spartans sacked and burned their city.

She shoved the dark thought deeply back into her mind. Now wasn’t the time for recriminations. The Morgans weren’t doomed lovers. Not at all. They were a match made in Muse heaven.

* * *

“I don’t know why they bother,” Michael Finnegan scoffed, arms crossed over his chest like a big-ass barricade to everything and everyone. “With the divorce rate at fifty percent, this marriage will probably tank before the year is out. Perfectly good waste of money that could be going to fund a charity, or to fight the war on drugs.”

He’d stepped outside the ostentatious imitation temple for a break from the frivolity and the crowd. Being sandwiched in with so many other people made that unreachable spot between his shoulder blades twitch. His jaw ached. He’d clenched it so tightly in the past twelve hours, pain slithered down his neck, reaching his fingertips.

His new partner, Anson Elwood, had joined him. They’d been assigned together once Finn returned from his latest suspension. They hadn’t been a team for long, but they’d worked well together from the get-go. Somehow, Finn ended up holding both their beers while Anse lit a cigarette.

“Finn, only a true pessimist would say something like that during a wedding reception.” Anse punched his bicep, making sure to extend his middle knuckle to inflict the most pain.

A true pessimist could also debate the entire question of love. So many of his childhood memories of his parents’ marriage were tainted with the sounds of fists striking soft tissue, bruises not fully hidden, and tirades directed at unsuspecting victims. And betrayal. Couldn’t forget that.

Knocking Anse’s hand aside, Finn continued like his thoughts hadn’t taken a turn for the morose. “I bet this shindig, with the high-priced wedding planner cost an easy fifty grand. If they’d eloped and given even half that amount to the woman’s shelter, they’d be offering safety and protection to three families for six months. And did you see that gift table? Piled so high it would be a thief’s wet dream.” The distasteful display of excess stuck in Finn’s craw. Especially juxtaposed against the image of the battered woman he’d interviewed at the hospital just hours ago. Sitting with the bruised, bawling woman had made him miss the church part of the day. Which was okay by him. He hated crowds, and all the potential bad shit that usually happened in them.

“Man, you’ve got to let go of the interview with Meredith Miller. Not every woman is abused. Some marriages end up happy.” The tip of Anse’s cigarette glowed as he took a long drag from it. Second-hand smoke wafted in the air between them. Why couldn’t his new partner have been a non-smoker?

Finn waved his hand through the smoke Anse exhaled. “I thought you were quitting. Those things will kill you.”

“Not me, man. I’m invincible.” He dropped the butt to the ground and crushed it under his heel then grabbed one of the two long-neck bottles Finn had been holding.

Regaining use of his hand, Finn jerked his tie again to ease the feeling of being strangled by silk.

Anse lifted his bottle and clinked it to Finn’s. “You know, this is a party. You could leave work at the station for once. Come on, dude. Randy Morgan finally met a woman capable of making him settle down. That’s huge, given what a player the guy is. Was.” He shoved Finn’s shoulder, prodding him back toward the party.

Finn moved grudgingly. “Which proves my point. Those two will be toast inside of twelve months.”

“Excuse me!” A stern female voice accosted them from behind.

Both men clammed up, turning toward the newcomer. The glow from the pavilion reflected on the woman’s face. The twinkly lights overhead made her red hair shimmer. Her heart-shaped face would be stunning, except for the flattened lips and lowered brows. She was pissed as fuck about something.

Finn settled his weight onto one leg and waited.

As she approached them, she called out. “You’re wrong. Those two are going to make it to their fiftieth anniversary.”

Propping his fists on his hips, Finn scowled at her. “What makes you think so?”

She pasted on a phony sweet smile. “Because I’m the high-priced wedding planner with a proven track record of successful weddings.”

Dull heat climbed into Finn’s cheeks, and warmed the tops of his ears. “A successful wedding doesn’t make a successful marriage.”

“But my track record on that score is ninety-nine percent.” She arched her brow. “That’s well above the national average.”

“Hey, Finn didn’t mean anything by his cracks. He’s always a big asshole.” Anson laughed, like that would ease the tension boiling between them.

The band started playing a swing tune. Sparkling sounds of laughter rose above the up-tempo music.

“I’m Anson Elwood and this buffoon is Michael Finnegan. We work on the police force with the groom.” Anse extended his hand.

“Aerie Thanos.” Her slim fingers were enveloped in Anse’s meaty grip.

Turning to Finnegan, she studied him like a bug under a microscope. Leaving him hanging, with his arm extended. She lifted her gaze, her eyes a moving, violet-blue. She curled her fingers against her palm before accepting his greeting. Finn heard the tiny gasp sneaking from between her lips. Saw her widened eyes as she jerked her arm. With a scowl marring the perfection of her brow, she tucked her fist behind her back.

He studied Aerie intently. Serious. Sexy. Subtle curves his fingers itched to explore, a long, lean neck designed to be nibbled on. And the seriously pissed off expression he wanted to kiss away.

Finn crammed his errant thoughts to the back of his mind. Didn’t really matter how attractive she was. In his book, there was no excuse for the kind of snub she’d just delivered.

“You gentlemen are missing the dancing. Go have fun.” She turned from them, then spun back around. “Oh, and by the way…the leftovers from dinner have already been packaged up and will be delivered to Sojourn House. Along with a very generous check from the bride’s parents.” Her heel caught on the grass as she pivoted to walk away from them. Finn caught her as she stumbled.

“Wait.” A firm hand on her arm stopped her forward momentum. Through the gauzy material of her sleeve, warmth seeped into his palm. “I’m sorry if I offended you. It wasn’t my intention.”

Two percent of his weekly pay also went to Sojourn House, a shelter for families, a haven from the horrors of domestic abuse. It was nice to find another person who championed a cause he held close to his heart. Especially when the other benefactor was as alluring as this woman.

Politely withdrawing her arm from his grip, Aerie waved her hand, as if to dismiss his words. “The bar will be open another two hours. Please drink responsibly.”

Finn watched her stride away. Her dress was missing the back, scooping below her shoulder blades, exposing a wide expanse of supple flesh and a curving waist. He swallowed hard, seriously turned on as he wondered if her flesh was as hot as her temper.