Page 1

CHAPTER1

No one threw a party like selkies. Satyrs threw the best orgies, but that wasn’t what Pan had been in the mood for when he’d gone searching for entertainment. He wanted dancing and bonfires and music and feasting, to be worshipped…and he’d found that on a sandy beach.

With their fur coats discarded, the selkies danced around the fires to drums and pipes. Their bare skin gleamed with sweat and firelight. His own clothes had been discarded several drinks and dances ago. Now he sprawled on a fur coat, watching as they danced in his honor.

He kissed the man on his left, then the woman on his right, basking in their delight at being chosen to worship him more intimately. They both had prayers they wanted answered, and he would get to them when the party was over…or, at most, a few days after.

There were always prayers and wishes and hopes floating around and getting caught up in magic. No god answered all prayers. Some answered those that would create the most trouble. He’d done that a few times because it was fun to watch an ill-thought-out wish come true. Sometimes, all he needed to do was send a little magic in the right direction, and the people took care of their problem themselves—and that was often more entertaining.

The selkies’ lips brushed over his chest and moved lower.

Sometimes, even prayers with the best of intentions went askew. Magic was unpredictable—more so at the moment. He’d first noticed it a year ago, a change in the vibration and a shifting of the colors.

Then there were things appearing from the human world on Tariko.

Some gods had traveled to Earth to have a look around, but there wasn’t enough magic in the human world for the humans to be doing anything. Which meant it was someone on Tariko. Another god playing a prank, perhaps?

There’d been meetings and discussions with the Strega.

And then things had gotten worse.

He leaned back as their warm breath ghosted over his dick. He placed a hand on each of their heads and let the magic flow through his fingers, filling them with his benevolence and giving them a taste of his power.

He tipped his head back to stare at the stars as his shaft became slick with their spit.

The stars…flickered. He blinked. What?

Then the stars winked out.

He pushed his worshipers away. They gasped and stared up at him as he stood.

Pan reached for the magic only to find that the golden rope was nothing but a few frayed threads. If he pulled on it, it would come apart.

“The tide!” a woman screamed.

Where there had been ocean only a moment ago, now there was just an expanse of sand, stretching for eternity as if he stood in the middle of the fucking desert.

The selkies murmured his name and dropped to their knees, begging him to do something.

“Bring the water back.”

“Bring the stars back.”

“Did we do something wrong?”

“What’s going on?”

He had no idea and no answers…which was terrifying.

The ground hummed as though he were standing on a beehive.

A bonfire collapsed, sending sparks into the air, and a log rolled out, landing on a discarded coat, which caught fire. The man kneeling at Pan’s feet screamed as he burned. Without thinking, Pan pulled on the magic to save him, but the golden strands disintegrated before he touched them.

“Do something!” The woman pawed at his legs, her face streaked with tears.

“I’m trying.” But there was nothing he could do without magic. He glanced up at the black sky. No stars remained.

The ground bucked, and he stumbled, falling to the soft sand. The fire spread, leaping from fur to fur. Selkie to selkie. “Grab your coats! Run!”