Pan's Conquest

by Aubrie Dionne

Overview

Pan's Conquest by Aubrie Dionne "A delightful tale of love lost and found again— and of Gods who must learn to grow beyond their fates. Highly recommended!"—Tiffany Allee Syrinx pulled a fast one on Pan to escape his raging lust. The God of Chastity wasn't about to break her vows and succumb to his temptations. Transported to the twenty-first century, she runs a florist shop - fulfilling her fake, mortal life. Until the breathtaking Parker Thomas hires her to decorate his grand estate for a gala. Five hundred roses? Easy enough. Except Parker makes her feel things she can't ignore...

As the God of Fertility, Pan is used to maidens flocking in droves to his pastures. So when Syrinx denies him, he's determined to win the one that got away. He poses as a mortal to get close to her, but he doesn't count on falling hard for his conquest - hard enough to make a life and stay.

But Syrinx is falling in love with a man that doesn't exist. Can Pan hide his identity forever, or will the truth tear them apart?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781622663460
Publisher:	Entangled Publishing, LLC
Publication date:	02/24/2014
Series:	Entangled Covet
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	200
Sales rank:	957,174
File size:	2 MB

About the Author

Aubrie Dionne is an author and flutist in New England. Her books have received the highest ratings from Romance Times Magazine, as well as Night Owl Reviews and Two Lips Reviews. Her writings have appeared in Mindflights, Niteblade, Silver Blade, Emerald Tales, Hazard Cat, Moon Drenched Fables, A Fly in Amber, and Aurora Wolf. Her books are published by Astraea Press, Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Publishing, Inkspell Publishing, Lyrical Press, and Gypsy Shadow Publishing. When she's not writing, Aubrie teaches flute and plays in orchestras.

Read an Excerpt

Pan's Conquest

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By Aubrie Dionne, Theresa Marie Cole

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Copyright © 2014 Aubrie Dionne
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62266-346-0

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CHAPTER 1

A Florist Called Ms. Rain

No more glades full of maidens, dances with nymphs, or eternal spring. Pan ran his fingers along the dry reeds of his flute. The power of his magic vibrated the air columns with an almost imperceptible resonant hum. He was tempted to place his lips on the reeds one last time, but he'd have company before long, and he wasn't about to seduce his butler.

Pan tilted his head, expecting his long hair to brush his shoulders, then remembering he'd cut it in the urban fashion of the twenty-first century, slicking it back with mousse so only a few strands curled around his forehead. Accustomed to listening to changes in the wind, the distant bleat of sheep, and the whispering of maidens in love, he could hear his butler's distinctly measured gait from three floors away.

But Rutherford's patient approach was not the reason he had hired him. The old man didn't ask questions, and to a god posing as a mortal, lack of curiosity was a virtue.

Pan opened the top drawer in his mahogany desk and placed the flute under a stack of papers. If he was going to maintain his pretense as a convincing mortal, then he couldn't use it. Besides, he didn't need it. He was the god of fertility. Charisma oozed from his every pore. He'd won every female he'd ever wanted — whether maiden, nymph, or god.

Except for Syrinx. Beautiful, sensuous Syrinx.

A gentle knock came from the door.

Stifling a rare current of doubt, he pushed the drawer back into the desk with a squeak. Gods weren't supposed to feel inferior, and it irritated him. "Come in."

The door cracked open, and Rutherford's bulbous nose poked in. "I assume you are presentable, sir?"

Pan rolled his eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have put in that "ultimate protection of the client's privacy" clause. "Yes, yes, come in."

Rutherford opened the door. He wore the same kind of black-and-gray suit he'd worn the past year. Mortals lacked so much imagination. "Have you spoken with the florist?"

Rutherford nodded, peering at him from round, thick-rimmed glasses used by grandfathers and librarians. "She called back this morning."

"And you insisted she come see the grounds?" Now Pan would see whether the old man deserved that big paycheck he'd conjured from thin air.

The butler bowed his head. "She's on her way."

Eager expectation filled Pan's body, charging him with a wild swell of desire. "Excellent." He smoothed the front of his cleanly pressed white button-down shirt and glanced at his reflection in the large balcony window. Would she recognize him?

He didn't even recognize himself.

With his powers, he'd changed his eye color, giving up his sharp pasture-green gaze for a toned-down copper brown. He'd shaved his bramble of a beard, twisting mustache, and overgrown sideburns. Now his angular jaw and high cheekbones came out with sharp definition. Hair that cascaded around his shoulders in russet curls was tamed into short waves of a lighter, amber color. His skin, once smudged with dirt and tan as leather, was cleaned until a light dusting of freckles he didn't even know he had spread across his nose. And of course, his oh-so-sexy horns and hooves were gone. Shouldn't walk around with those downtown.

But he couldn't wipe that mischievous spark from his eyes or the way his gaze simmered like a fire waiting to be stoked.

He'd just have to hope thousands of years were long enough for her to forget.

"Can I get you anything else, Mr. Thomas?" It took Pan a second to return to reality. "Yes. Bring out a tray of hors d'oeuvres and the best bottle of wine from our cellar."

The butler raised a bushy gray eyebrow. "Sir? Normally one wouldn't offer food and wine to hired help."

Pan had to be careful. He couldn't look too eager. "You're right. But, I value their services, so make it the second best."

"As you wish." With a stoic face, Rutherford bowed politely and left.

It had been a little over a year since he'd moved to the mortal world and hired Rutherford. Over that time, he'd come to appreciate his advice and his company, even if he didn't want to admit it to Rutherford or even himself.

Pan walked to the balcony and scanned the vast gardens of his estate. He'd chosen sculptured rose bushes, beds of radiant butterfly weed, groves of wild lupine, and the lightest, prettiest blue hydrangea shrubs in the mortal world. It was enough to make any florist swoon.

Now I'll know if it was all worth it.

It had to be. Syrinx had cursed him with her scorn. She injured his reputation, and he wasn't accustomed to losing. When Coral, out of desperation, spilled the beans on Syrinx's whereabouts, he'd given everything up to win her over. He wasn't leaving the mortal world until he succeeded. Syrinx would be his.

* * *

"So tell me again why we're trekking all the way up to this client's house if the event isn't for another two weeks." Kaye mumbled with her barrette in her mouth as she pinned back her curly, black hair with both hands.

Syrinx turned their VW Bug around the corner, and a lawn so beautiful it reminded her of the ancient gardens of Babylon sprang up before them. That particular color of hydrangea blossom was beautiful and rare. She shook her head, trying to forget her memories for the thousandth time in the last five years. If she pretended hard enough, she could almost imagine herself born as a normal woman, struggling alongside everyone else to make ends meet pursuing her dream.

Kaye smacked her arm. "Earth to Sylvia."

Syrinx narrowed her eyes, focusing on the road. "Because he insists we see the size of the estate to plan how many roses we'll need."

"Honestly, all he has to do is send us the dimensions. We're not idiots."

"Yes, but he's the customer, Kaye. And a very rich one at that." Even though she could conjure money from thin air, she enjoyed playing the game, earning her food and shelter the way mortals did. When she first entered the human world, she used her powers to survive, which only drew attention to her and risked her identity being known. After learning how to exist without magic, she couldn't imagine living any other way.

"Oh, all right. But there are a thousand other things we could be doing: filling May Phillip's order for her mother's birthday, watering the gardens, replanting the marigolds in larger pots ..."

"We'll be back at work soon enough." Syrinx turned into a circular driveway and parked the car next to a fountain with water spewing from a mermaid's mouth. Nice. Centuries later, her friends were reduced to simple caricatures. It was too bad most of the gods had left the mortals to fend for themselves over the years. They'd lost their reverence for nature, among other things.

She glanced up at an eighteenth-century colonial summer house complete with gray brick turrets on either side and a wrought iron gate. Someone had taken a lot of care to restore the painted glass windows and the wooden beams in the facade.

"Good, because old mansions like this give me the heebie-jeebies." Kaye shivered and stepped out of the car. "They remind me of Mr. Rochester's crazy wife locked up in the attic or the movie where Nicole Kidman's a ghost but she doesn't know it."

Syrinx had studied modern-day behavior by watching movies, although in the last five years, she'd learned to hold her own without the pop culture tutoring. She liked fantasy movies much more than horror, but she'd still seen enough to know her ghosties. "The Others?"

"Yeah, that's the one!" Kaye wrapped her arms around herself as they climbed the stone steps to large oak doors twice their height. "Hopefully, this one doesn't have any ghosts."

Syrinx laughed. "I doubt it." Ghosts were confined to the underworld. Gods could roam the earth freely, but you'd find no chain-dragging skeletons here. Thank goodness, because Hades would have a field day. She wished she could reassure her friend that her spectral worries were for naught, but giving her any more information would only blow Syrinx's cover. And she enjoyed playing along with the mortals way too much.

"Where's the doorbell?" Kaye bounced on her heels. Usually, they wore sneakers and jeans while kneeling in the dirt, but Syrinx had insisted they dress up for this meeting because this was an important client. Kaye looked adorable in her beige pencil skirt and floral blouse. It reminded Syrinx she needed to take her on a girls' night out soon. As the goddess of chastity, Syrinx didn't need love, but Kaye might want to go looking. Setting up her friend would be more than fun.

"Looks like we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way." Syrinx picked up a large bronze ring and knocked three times.

They waited while a hot summer breeze played with strands of their hair.

"Looks like no one's home." Kaye moved to leave, but Syrinx grabbed her arm. Mortals were so impatient.

"Wait a sec."

"Hey, do you think Mr. Thomas is a brooding, handsome older man like Mr. Rochester with a deep, dark secret?" Kaye glanced around the grounds.

"Honestly, you have a way overactive imagination." Syrinx shook her head. "I'm sure he's just as boring as any other man."

Kaye's eyes came to rest on Syrinx. Intrigue sparked in her gaze.

Reaching out to touch a strand of Syrinx's hair, she said, "Your hair glows lighter each time you're out in the sun. It looks magical, like ... iridescent moonlight."

Syrinx pretended to be annoyed. Kaye was brighter than she led on. Her wit coupled with her imagination brought her closer to Syrinx's secret every day. Someday, she'd catch on to the fact that Syrinx never aged, got sick, or slept. "It's called bleach."

Just then, the door opened, and an elderly man with an elephantine nose peered down at them. "Ladies, I assume you're from Sylvia's Creations?"

"Excellent assumption." Syrinx smiled and offered her hand. "Sylvia Rain. This is my assistant, Kaye Underhill."

He shook both their hands. "Rutherford Hayes. I spoke to you on the phone." With a wave of his hand, he led them in.

A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the foyer. Two grand staircases spiraled on either side to a balcony carved in wood. A vase of hyacinths sat on a large oriental rug, the flowers splayed out in the perfect arrangement only a true florist would notice.

"It's beautiful." Syrinx was impressed, and it was hard to impress a god who'd seen primordial spring envelop the land of the nymphs in all its glory.

"In a spooky, Mr. Rochester sort of way." Kaye frowned.

Syrinx elbowed her in the arm. She should have left her pruning the roses.

Rutherford raised an eyebrow at her comment. "Master Thomas will be with you shortly."

As Rutherford paced slowly back up the stairs, Syrinx pulled her friend aside. "Let me do the talking, okay?"

"Sure, silence the brains behind the organization." Kaye winked at Syrinx, then gazed past her shoulder. Her eyes widened. She whispered under her breath. "Holy Mary, mother of hotness. Who is that?"

Maybe Syrinx didn't have to take Kaye out on a girls' night after all. She turned around.

A clean-cut young man in his late twenties claimed the balcony like the throne of a king. He wore a pressed suit that hugged the curves of his rugged shoulders and broad chest. The strong angles of his face and his smoldering copper-brown eyes drew her attention.

But the way he looked at her made her feel as though they'd known each other for centuries. She studied his face, looking for anything to bring up memories, but she could recall no man with such perfect cheekbones or a clean-shaven, strong-lined jaw. If she wasn't in the modern-day mortal world, she would have sworn he was a god. But she'd known all of them, and they'd left the mortal world eons ago.

And none of them had ever turned her head the way he did.

He started down the stairs, his movements swift and definitive. "Ladies, may I introduce myself? I'm Parker Thomas, owner of the estate and grounds."

He reached the bottom step and offered his hand.

Kaye took it immediately. "Kaye Underhill. Nice to meet you, Mr. Thomas."

His eyes glanced over her, shining like molten caramel as they rested on Syrinx. He took his hand away from Kaye and offered it to her.

Syrinx took his hand, feeling rough calluses on his skin — uncommon for rich businessmen. "Sylvia Rain."

"Sylvia?" He smiled in amusement.

A current of irritation bristled the hairs on the back of her neck. What was his problem? She'd chosen a perfectly normal mortal name. "Yes. You can call me Ms. Rain."

"Ms. Rain, of course. What a fitting last name for a florist." He said it as if he knew she'd made it up.

Syrinx straightened her shoulders. "We've come to take a look at the dimensions of the rooms you'd like decorated, as per your request."

"Certainly. Thank you for coming." He swept his arm over the room. "This is the main foyer and the room I'd like decorated from the balcony to the floor."

Syrinx brought out her phone and started taking pictures. "All in roses?"

He followed her around the vase at the center of the room. "Yes. They are my favorite. The red ones, of course. They signify love and passion."

She glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "That will be costly."

He waved his hand. "No matter. Whatever it takes."

"I'll provide a quote shortly." Syrinx snapped another picture. Passion? That was like poison to a goddess of chastity. Who was this guy?

Kaye picked up a bronze statue of a man riding a horse and examined it. As she put it back on the shelf, she knocked over a porcelain vase and caught it before it tumbled off.

Syrinx gave Kaye a death look. Her assistant shouldn't be manhandling the scenery, especially when she had a propensity to drop things. Kaye ignored her, following Mr. Thomas as he followed Syrinx. "What, exactly, is this party for? Just to help us plan, of course."

"Of course." He ran his fingers over a hyacinth. "This is a party for business associates."

The thought of him running the same fingers over Syrinx's bare skin made her blush, and she looked away. Normally, her thoughts didn't go there. They hadn't since ... since back on Mount Olympus. "They must be very important to you."

He maneuvered in front of her and found her gaze once again. "Indeed, they are." The intensity stirring within the copper-brown depths of his eyes unnerved her. It was almost as if he was saying she was important to him. But that was crazy. They hardly knew each other.

Syrinx clung to business. "And the other rooms?"

He offered his arm. "If you'll follow me ..."

One thing was for sure: to a goddess of chastity, he was trouble. Syrinx wished Kaye would come and take his arm instead, but he offered it to her and her alone.

Kaye stared at her with a mix of envy and amusement.

"Very well." Syrinx barely touched the pressed sleeve of his expensive suit. Electricity ran through her, distracting her from her work. With the barest touch, she could feel the strength in his arm and smell his woodsy, fresh pine scent. The practiced grace with which his body moved reminded her of a stag hunter, while the wildness in his eyes resembled the prey itself. Nothing about him matched the crisp suit, yet it made the whole package irresistible.

"What kind of business are you in, Mr. Thomas?" Kaye followed them into the room.

His arm tensed under Syrinx's touch. Kaye's question seemed to catch him off guard, which made Syrinx even more intrigued. Didn't he expect them to ask about his work to better decorate the party?

"Fertility." He led them into a parlor even more gorgeous than the foyer, with leather couches and a grand stone fireplace with statues of golden deer running across the mantle.

Syrinx released his arm, busying herself with more pictures. His occupation made perfect sense, given the opulence of the grounds. Those fertility doctors could make a fortune. Was he following his dream, or was he in it for the money? Syrinx admired people who followed their dreams like her.

"You mean you help women conceive? That's very honorable." Kaye shot Syrinx a glance and wiggled her eyebrows.

Syrinx reached in her purse and gave her a small piece of paper. "Record the dimensions."

Mr. Thomas grinned, his gaze falling over Syrinx and drinking her in. "I give them their heart's desire."

Syrinx looked away, snapping another picture. She bet he did. Gosh, the last thing she needed was a fling with a playboy bachelor. She had dual reputations to uphold: her goddess identity and her business practices. "This is all we need. We have to get back to the shop."

She moved toward the door. Rutherford appeared with a silver tray of cheeses and a bottle of what looked like very old and expensive wine, blocking her exit.

Mr. Thomas joined her at the door, picking a piece of cheese from the tray. "Can't you stay for a bite to eat?"

"I'm afraid not." She looked back at Kaye, who glared as if she had ruined the party. "We have work to do if you want this place covered in roses in two weeks."

Disappointment made hard angles in his gorgeous face. Wild unrest stirred underneath the business facade. "Very well."

Syrinx slipped her phone into her purse. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Thomas."

If he was upset, he recovered quickly with a curl of his lips. "Likewise."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Pan's Conquest by Aubrie Dionne, Theresa Marie Cole. Copyright © 2014 Aubrie Dionne. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Dedication,
Prologue,
Chapter One: A Florist Called Ms. Rain,
Chapter Two: Intruder,
Chapter Three: One and Only,
Chapter Four: Games,
Chapter Five: With Open Eyes,
Chapter Six: Holding Back,
Chapter Seven: Even Beat,
Chapter Eight: Company for the Road,
Chapter Nine: Castle in the Clouds,
Chapter Ten: Desired,
Chapter Eleven: A Mortal's Love,
Chapter Twelve: Sabotage,
Chapter Thirteen: Truth,
Chapter Fourteen: Fingerprints,
Chapter Fifteen: Champagne,
Chapter Sixteen: Endless Forest,
Chapter Seventeen: Assistance from the Assistant,
Chapter Eighteen: Greenland,
Acknowledgments,
About the Author,