zues conquering his heart

Fresh Release – Zeus: Conquering His Heart by Wendy Rathbone #Gay #Fantasy

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Title:Zeus: Conquering His Heart

Series:The Fantastic Immortals

Author:Wendy Rathbone

Genre:Fantasy, Gay Romance

Today we’re sticking with gay fantasy! And the second book feature of the day is a new release from Wendy Rathbone – Zeus: Conquering His Heart, the second book in The Fantastic Immortals series.

Zeus: Conquering His Heart by Wendy Rathbone

When I throw the lightning and summon the thunder, it isn’t always out of anger, but often from a love so all-consuming it could only be the effect of Eros himself. Yes, he is beautiful. Of course he is. How could he be otherwise, with hair the color of sunlight and white-feathered wings that drape to the floor? And he is as ancient as the myth of time itself, an immortal with powers and glamour beyond my ability to imagine. He struggles to teach me wisdom, control, strategy, yet I sit here babbling like a child, for all I can think of is how I might try – at least let me try! – to prove myself to him in some way that will cause him to crave my company and my touch, just as I crave his.

I do not yet know how to be a god, for I am only 18 and still just a silly boy who has fallen in love with Love himself, while my father Cronus plots and schemes to lock me in his dungeon and make me his slave forever. 

A male/male romance.

While Zeus: Conquering His Heart is the second book in “The Fantastic Immortals” series, each novel in the series can be read as a standalone.

Excerpt – Zeus: Conquering His Heart

“Mirrors can teach. Mirrors do not lie. You have never had the chance to really look upon yourself. Today’s lesson: I command you look. Here. At every aspect of yourself. Get to know it. See your beauty but do not fall into it.”

Zeus frowned. Fall into his own beauty? He didn’t think so. He could barely focus. Besides, he didn’t think he was beautiful. Not compared to Eros and his Erotes. He was so different from Eros, un-winged for one thing, and still feeling awkward, stupid, uncontrolled. He did not want to look at himself. Couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t want this.” He turned his head aside.

The grip on his hand tightened. “Do not look away from yourself. That is the first way to becoming irrevocably lost.”

Eros let go of him, and moved slightly behind Zeus, hands on his head to turn him back to face the mirror, then the hands move to his shoulders.

“Look. Just look. No judgment. No expectation. The boy you are has become a man. A god. You need to look. To know. To understand how you are, what you are, and all the ways you respond and react to become the whole total of yourself. It will take a long, long time. You are many things, many aspects of a self. But first: the body.”

Eros ran his hands down Zeus’s arms from his shoulders to his elbows. At every touch, the flame in Zeus licked, heated, and grew. Zeus thought himself unremarkable, until Eros touched him. Then he saw how the fingertips of the god seemed, as if by magic, to sculpt him. As if he had not come into being until the teacher shaped him. He saw how the muscles of his upper arms curved beneath the dark bronze of his skin, how that skin began to take on a sheen of dimension, not just a flat sun-brown tone.

Slowly, Eros’s hands came back up and wove through the black hair that draped Zeus’s shoulders, pulling it back, letting the fringe of it brush his forearms. His hair against Eros’s arms took on a gloss he’d never noticed; the wave of his hair parted at his forehead a little to the left curving against his face and reflecting diamond and blue shades from the room’s dim light like a black liquid.

Eros pushed his palms up to Zeus’s face, framing it, and suddenly Zeus saw his eyes come alive, lit as if from within with a sparkle, as if the stars themselves lay behind the blackness of iris and pupils. He saw his own cheeks, full with youth, but not babyish, lighten, lift, and the jaw firm and hard, two lines angled toward an almost square chin.


Eros’s hands smoothed over Zeus’s chest and he saw the delineation of muscles and deep lines beneath his pecks, ribs, and his flat stomach quivering as he tried to keep his breathing steady, slow. His skin seemed to waver in its heat, its sensitivity to touch, its alive-ness apparent. His cock began to fill.

He thought about being embarrassed but he was more focused now, and Eros had already seen him at all levels of emotional upset: drama, tears, fury, drunkenness, and arousal. He could not hide from him. Never had been able to.

“Look.” Eros’s voice whispered over him, softer now, everything effortless, the stresses momentarily gone, the fire in Zeus quenched for the moment into mere lightning-bug sparks, only the tiniest of burns now deep inside his chest.

Zeus: Conquering His Heart by Wendy Rathbone

Haven’t read book one yet and want to? Here’s more about it!

Ganymede: Abducted by the Gods – The Fantastic Immortals, Book One

Sold by his father. Abducted against his will.

My name is Ganymede, and I have been betrayed.

Every boy my age dreams of leaving home to embark on a noble adventure, but never does any boy imagine it happening as it did to me. On the evening of my 18th naming day, when I expected no more than a chalice of wine and a few drunken flirtations to tempt my innocence, I was instead sold by my father to the god, Zeus – not because of anything particular I had ever done or said, but solely because I am considered beautiful among mortals, and my father found more value in a few gold coins than in the well-being of his youngest son.

To be honest, I never believed in the gods, but my lack of belief held no power in Olympus or on Earth. Now under Zeus’s influence, I am kept drunk on ambrosia in the sun-lit halls of the immortals, alternately amazed and horrified at the power these beings hold over others, and how darkly they influence the progress of humanity itself. How very much I want to hate Zeus for kidnapping me, and yet he shows me mostly kindness, even on that fateful night when we shared a bed for the first time. Kindness, yes, but also a godly and unyielding refusal to take no for an answer… probably because he could read my ambrosia-fevered curiosity as much as my naive, inexperienced terror. He owns me, after all, just as he owns everything else, so perhaps it never occurred to him that a captive and a slave might not make the best of lovers.

Throughout my time at Olympus – who’s to say how long I’ve been here, for time on Olympus is not the same as that on Earth – the only thing that gives me hope comes to me in dreams and visions. His name is Sable and he is a magnificent shape-shifter in the form of a giant raven. When he first spoke to me in my mind it was with a resonance unlike any I had ever known – his mind and mine sounding a single note together, a song without words, a promise of freedom, a glimpse of some distant but very real possibility of this thing we humans call Love. But now he is silent. Perhaps I dreamed his voice. Perhaps I have finally lost my mind…

Meet Wendy Rathbone

The reason I write romance these days is because the overwhelming power of falling in love (which has been proven to heal even cancer) is a game-changer. It makes sad people instantly happy. It makes bleak reality look sun-warmed and friendly again.

I have written in all genres: scifi, fantasy, horror, paranormal, contemporary, erotica, romance. My poetry has won awards, publishing contracts, and was recently nominated for a Pushcart. I am a hybrid writer, publishing both indie (under my press name Eye Scry Designs) and with publishers, most recently with Dreamspinner Press.

I keep coming back to romance. Gay romance. Male/male romance. Maybe it was the wonderful start I got when I was very young in Star Trek slash fanfiction. Something about that stuck. The idea of two men falling in love in a society that has winced at that sort of thing for far too long (when in ancient times and other cultures it is considered normal) is alluring. The forbidden is imminently appealing and erotic to me. Many of my themes involve abduction, pleasure slavery, indentured servitude, imprisonment. It’s like, with my writing, I’m constantly breaking out of some self-imposed cage and letting my wings unfurl until I can finally fly.

This is why I write. This is what makes me burn.

All my books are available on Kindle and Createspace.

Visit Wendy’s blog. 

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