Chapter 1

Themis, known as the Goddess of Necessity bore three daughters by Zeus. These daughters were known as the Moirai or Fates. Koltho spins the thread of life, Lakhesis determines the length of the thread and Atropos cuts the thread when the time has come for death. The Fates, though often thought of as hideous, were actually quite lovely, with golden hair and blue eyes, smooth skin and lusty curves.

Occasionally, someone figures out a way to cheat these lovely Goddesses. When that happens, Fate steps in.

It was the mirror.

Jolene Walker sat up, her hands trembling as she reached for the light switch on the lamp next to her bed. It had to be that damn mirror. It was huge and ugly, ungainly as hell, as she'd found out the hard way.

She'd tried to move it, to take it out to the trash if nothing else, but it must have weighed a ton. The frame alone was heavy wood with gilt edged scrollwork that was so fancy and ornate that it clashed with everything else in the house.

She had thought to break the thing, but her luck recently had been so bad, she just didn't fancy seven more years of it. So it stayed, a dresser sitting in front of it.

Was it moved? Jolene stared at the dresser, her eyes narrowing. It had been moved. Where yesterday, the heavy piece of furniture had been centered on the wall, in the middle of the mirror, blocking a majority of it, today, it was off to the side a few inches, pushed away from the wall. How the hell had that happened?

Had she kicked it or hit it with her hip? She didn't remember it happening but it could have. It was much better than the alternative explanation.

She glanced at the clock on the stand beside the bed, groaning when she saw the time. She'd been asleep little more than an hour when the dream had woken her. Strange shapes, glimpses of fangs and claws, dark shadowy figures, all had been creeping up on her. Circling the bed, they had stared down at her with eyes that glowed like red fire. She'd felt the malevolence of them, the evil that exuded into the air like heavy sweat, pungent and strong.

She'd been helpless, alone and terrified, unable to think of anything, unable to draw enough breath to scream. She'd cowered, her shaking body causing the bed to shiver, waiting for them to attack.

She stared into the mirror, concentrating. Something had woken her up, something had saved her. What was it? A voice, she thought. It had called her name waking her as easily as if someone had stood over her and shook her.

"Is someone there?" she called, her voice quavering. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Is there someone here?"

Jolene shook her head, laughing at herself as she realized how foolish she was being. There was no one in her house. "Settle down, girl. You've got work in the morning. Now turn off the light and go back to bed."

But still, her hand shook as she reached for the light and it took quite a while until she finally settled down enough to let sleep claim her again. It wasn't a restful sleep, her body rolled over the bed, tossing and turning, fighting the hidden terrors that stalked her dreams until finally she felt him.

He settled against her side as if it was his destiny to be there. "Shh, little one. I am here now," he whispered, his voice husky and with a lilt that spoke of faraway places.

Jolene sighed, sinking into her dreams, feeling the heat of his body, the hard planes pressing against her curves. "Micah," she whimpered, his name coming easily to her lips.

He chuckled, his hand tracing over the curve of her cheek, slipping to her neck as he leaned down to capture those sweet lips, keeping his touch light and soft, sensual and seductive, wooing her gently into lowering her defenses and letting him in. "Sleep, little one," he murmured against her lips. "Meet me in your dreams."

Jolene sighed, her lips clinging to his, relaxing back into the mattress. Her body grew heavy as her dreams drew her deep, making her way to him.

His hands speared through her hair, feathering the silken tresses over the satin of the pillow, the brightly burnished curls shining in the light of the hundreds of candles scattered around the room. His long fingers moved, his thumbs trailing over the long, slender muscles of her neck, touching and stroking against the delicate line of her collarbone, soothing and arousing at the same time.

She moaned under those tormenting fingers, their heat causing her heart to thunder in her breast, pounding so loud she didn't know how he missed hearing it. "Micah," she whispered again, her voice low and husky with need. "I've missed you so much."

"Not nearly as much as I've missed you," he purred. "Lena, I want you, little one."

Her breath seemed snarled in her lungs, her eyes opening to see his devastating features looking down at her. His eyes were intense, a blue so deep they seemed fathomless and full of secrets. His lips were curved, lush and a little too wide, his nose thin with just the slightest bend that hinted at it being broken sometime in his past. She didn't know, he never spoke of his past with her, only of now, of here. His face was angular, strong, with a wide forehead topped by a shaggy mane of black hair that framed his angelic face in ragged waves.

He rose over her, pressing her body into the mattress, his body hard and hot over hers, sliding against the satin gown that barely covered her slender curves. She knew he was tall, she'd seen him next to her, felt him against her so many times. But his size always seemed to surprise her, dwarfing her, making her feel fragile and delicate. His shoulders, so wide and strong, brushed by the black waves of his hair, blocked her view of that hated mirror and she sighed, not realizing how much she despised seeing it.

She felt his legs against hers, his thighs, heavily muscled, pushing between hers. He settled into the cradle of her hips and she arched against him, letting him know that he wasn't the only one that wanted.

He chuckled and she felt her lips twitch with a smile to meet his. "Anxious tonight, my love?" he whispered, his lips touching the soft skin under her ear.

"It's been so long, Micah. My dreams aren't the same without you. They're horrid and scary." She glanced up at him, her fingers playing along the wide planes of his chest, stroking over his nipples and the thin scar that showed white against his tawny flesh. "I can't stop thinking that something is stalking me in them, Micah. I think someone wants to kill me."

"I'm here now, little one. I won't let anything happen to you," he let his thumbs catch in the thin silk ribbons that were all that held her gown to her shoulders. Pulling on them gently, he bared the soft skin, his thumbs stroking over her, mesmerizing her with his touch. His lips found hers and she felt his tongue sweep across her mouth, demanding entrance.

He tasted of passion, dark and sinfully sweet, a flavor that she couldn't stop her body from craving with a need bordering upon addiction. His lips rubbed against her own, twisting, tantalizing, teasing her until she moaned softly into his mouth.

"I want you naked," he growled. "I want to feel your body under mine, your skin against mine."

"Yes," she moaned, her hands digging into his hair to draw his mouth back to hers. Almost magically her gown melted away and she felt the heat of him, the smooth skin of his stomach, the crisp hair at his groin that grew softer on his thighs and calves. Her head fell back against the pillow, her neck arched as his mouth slide down her throat, his teeth nipping with intricate precision against her skin.

She felt her body soften, her thighs part, the long, incredibly hard shaft of his cock slipping between to press against her swollen nether lips. His lips found her breast, his tongue sliding over her skin as if he needed to taste all of her with a heat that had her arching, begging with quiet whimpers. "Micah," she moaned. "It's been so long."

"Yes," he sighed, teasing her nipple by brushing his nose over the taut tip. "It has, little one. I'm sorry. I've been... detained." He lapped at the turgid nipple, smiling darkly as she arched further.

Her hands dug into the length of his hair, holding his head against her, her body undulating under him as that maddening itch he always brought heated her blood until she thought she'd burst into flames. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to give her some relief from the throbbing need, but he was between them, sliding down slowly, his stomach brushing over the soft gold curls that covered her woman's mound.

His fingers kneaded her breast, capturing the full, pale globe in his large hand. She could feel his palm pressing against her nipple, circling slowly even as he pulled the other taut tip into his mouth. He suckled hard, using his talented tongue to press and flick, forcing a cry of pure sensual torment from between her parted lips.

"You know what I want, little one," he growled around that tip. "You know I will be satisfied with nothing else. Let go and just feel, Lena."

Jolene could do little but feel, for his hands, his lips, his body left her no other option. He tormented her with seductive caresses, treasured her with teeth and lips that played along every sensuous nerve ending she had. He knew her so well, as if they'd been making love this way for centuries.

His tongue dipped into the tiny well of her navel, his teeth nibbled on the line of her waist before slipping down further. His nose brushed against her soft pelt and she felt him inhale, breathing in the scent of her arousal.

"Micah?" she breathed when he moved no further, his body tensed almost as if he was in pain. "What is it?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting and then glancing away from hers. "It is nothing." He stroked her stomach slowly, his fingers hot and deliberate. When he saw her mouth open, he dropped his hands to the soft, smooth flesh of her inner thighs, sliding them upward, pushing her legs further apart.

His fingers combed through her soft curls, feeling their crisp texture before parting her swollen lips and dipping his fingers into the wet heat of her. He stared down at her, his growl as the passions surged inside of him sending a swell of pleasure through her. "You're so beautiful, Lena," he growled before ducking his head, his mouth caressing her most intimate of flesh.

Jolene cried out, her back arching as he feasted upon her, his tongue lapping and swirling around her clit. Her hands buried themselves in his black hair, holding him to her as if afraid he would stop the wonderful things he was doing and end the sensations of heat that prickled through her entire body. No man had ever made her feel half what Micah did with just the single touch of his tongue.