Thank you so much for backing the project and coming on this journey with us! We’ve tried to compile all of the important next steps below, but if you have any questions going forward, the best place to reach us is [email protected]! Make sure you scroll until the end for a delicious teaser from Tender Cruelty!

Payments have already begun processing. If there was an issue with your card, you’ll have an opportunity over the next few weeks to update it to process your payment. It takes two weeks for the dust to settle on all of the payments, and until then we can’t send surveys, so things will be quiet until then.

What’s a survey? If you’ve never done crowdfunding before, we’re hoping to make it as simple for you as possible. A weird quirk of crowdfunding campaigns is that they don’t collect your address when you pledge…so unless you complete a survey (a form where you give us that information), we won’t know where to send your stuff. The survey will also deliver all of your digital content, but we’ll save the specific instructions about that until then. Every time we do a project, there are people who never complete their survey no matter how many times we attempt to contact them. It’s going to be one of those emails you want to ignore and come back to later, but don’t because:

If your full payment has been processed, you will receive your survey on April 10th. There is a spot in the survey for you to provide the name you want in the book. Your survey must be submitted by April 14th at 12pm Pacific to be included. There will be NO EXCEPTIONS to this because we have to send the files to our printer. 

If you used Pay Over Time, you won’t receive your survey until your final payment has been processed, so instead we’ll email you a form on April 10th. You must submit the form by April 14th at 12pm Pacific to be included. There will be NO EXCEPTIONS to this because we have to send the files to our printer.

Immediate next steps timeline:

March 27-April 9: Payment processing and corrections window–no action needed if your payment has processed!

April 10: Surveys Sent (or a Form link if you chose to Pay Over Time)

April 14: Deadline to submit your survey or your form in order to have your name included in the back of the book!

We’ll update you monthly as we move through the process so that you know exactly what’s happening and when to expect your beautiful goodies. 

Here are some questions we often get during this stage of a project:

No problem! Until we lock the addresses to start shipping, you’ll be able to go back into your survey anytime to update your address. If you have any trouble doing that, please don’t hesitate to shoot us an email! We’ll send a warning and give a deadline for changes before we lock anything. 

Things are fluctuating a lot right now in this chaotic political climate, and we don’t want to overcharge you for shipping just to try to anticipate potential changes. We won’t be charging for shipping until we’re actually ready to ship, so you’ll get an email and pay your accurate costs then. With our monthly updates, you’ll have an ample heads up before this happens. 

We had 167 folks fill out the form to be added to the gifted set waitlist. We had a total of one book set donated and $1,110 donated to the fund, which divides down into a total of 6 gifted sets. We’ve decided to double-match that total, which brings us up to 24 gifted sets. 

As we mentioned before, we will be determining who gets the gifted sets by lottery. We will be reaching out to folks on April 1st to claim their sets. Because this is relatively time sensitive, you will have forty-eight hours from when we send the email to claim your set. If you don’t by that time, we will move on to the next person, determined by lottery.

Congrats to TEAM RADIANT SIN! You answered the trivia questions most accurately (69%)! As a reward, you’ll get a special sticker added to your orders. We’ll reveal the design at a later date! Thank you to everyone who played along!

If you still have any lingering questions or need any assistance at any point going forward, send us an email at [email protected] so we can get you sorted!

Thanks again for making this project such a joyful celebration of this beloved series! As a special thank you, here’s the first two chapters of Tender Cruelty! 

Chapter One

Zeus

[Redacted for spoilers]

I’m not going to solve this problem by sitting in my car and berating myself in my late father’s voice. There will be no peace up in the penthouse, not with my Hera swishing about, plotting my death. She wasn’t successful in her most recent plans, but she’s not a woman to give up easily. Sleeping peacefully at her side should be out of the question.

It’s the only time I get any rest these days.

I shove out of the car and stalk past the guards, forcing myself to nod at them in greeting, and take the elevator up to the penthouse. It’s late enough that dawn is a short time away, so I don’t expect Hera to be awake. I sure as fuck don’t expect her to have company.

But as I walk through the door, there’s a deep voice intertwined with her more musical tones.

One of the first lessons my father taught me was that emotional reactions are handing a weapon to your enemy and exposing your throat. He was the enemy back then, but the lesson remains. No matter how Hera strives to incite me, I don’t react. I will not be my father and terrorize those in my household. The more my wife acts out, the thicker the ice I use to keep my temper under control.

I find her sitting on the couch with Ixion, one of the new guards who follow her everywhere. She acquired him and the other two from Ares at some point in the last two months. I approve of her keeping herself safe. I sure as fuck do not approve of the way Ixion allows his thigh to press to hers.

They look up as I stop in the doorway. Hera gives me nothing, but that’s to be expected. People accuse me of being an ice king, but she’s all blades and no softness. She has one reaction to any given situation—strike first. She leans back and crosses one long leg over the other, which is right around the time I realize she’s wearing a robe and nothing else. Her dark hair is mussed a bit, too; she must have run her fingers through it recently.

Or Ixion ran his fingers through it.

Ixion gives me a smirk as if he has a better claim to the woman I married than I do. The fact that he might be right nearly has me reaching for the gun in my shoulder holster. I can even see what she finds attractive about him—he’s a white man with short blond hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and the kind of muscular body that one gets from a life of work. The mustache alone should write him off, but he’s a handsome fucker and charming enough to make it work for him.

I hold his gaze for long enough that a bright pink takes up residence in his cheeks. Only then do I speak. “Get out.”

Ixion doesn’t immediately obey. He looks to her first, waiting for her nod to rise easily to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” She even manages a smile for him, which is more than I ever get from her. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.” He doesn’t shoulder-check me as he walks past, but he clearly wants to. I let him have my back as I listen to him stride down the hall to the door. When Hera acquired her trio, I had Apollo look into them. They all hold exemplary records with Athena before they resigned and came to Hera. There was literally nothing to criticize, no good reason to step in and demand she retain the guards I handpicked for her.

It irritates me deeply.

“Zeus.” I hadn’t realized there was warmth in her tone for him until there’s none for me. “You’re home late.”

If I were a different man, I would tell her where I’ve been, [Redacted].

If I were a better man, I wouldn’t relish the thread of jealousy beneath her question. It’s faint enough that I’m not entirely certain it’s real, but I want it to be real. I want Hera to care enough to worry about whose bed I might be spending time in. Because of that weakness, I can’t bring myself to address it directly. “And you had Ixion here late.” I make a show of looking at my watch. “He must be costing a fortune in overtime.”

“You have no idea.” Her hazel eyes flash. “Take a shower. You’re not coming straight from someone else’s bed to mine.”

“You first, wife.”

“Gladly.” She’s off the couch and across the room in seconds, disappearing through the doorway leading deeper into the penthouse.

Hera represents another failure in my year as Zeus. Marrying her accomplished my goal of getting Demeter and her formidable alliances on my side, but if I had tentative hopes of this marriage being a true partnership—let alone something more—they died on my wedding night. My home has since turned into a battleground again, each interaction another fight in an ongoing war. Sharing a bed? It’s just another facet of it.

I should deny her. She’s actively trying to orchestrate my death and I highly doubt that the most recent failure will set her back for long. Letting her close enough to access me when I sleep is foolhardy to the point of being suicidal. Having sex with her is even worse. Even knowing exactly how intensely she wants me dead, I…forget myself.

Knowing that doesn’t stop me from walking to the spare bedroom and taking a quick shower. It isn’t enough to keep me from pulling on a pair of shorts and padding barefoot across the hallway to the primary bedroom. Opening the door allows a sliver of light into the darkness. Hera has pulled the curtains already; can’t entertain even the slightest possibility that someone might see what happens in our perfect darkness.

She steps out of the bathroom, a silk robe wrapped around her lithe body. She meets my gaze boldly and reaches without looking to shut off the light. My breathing feels unnaturally loud as I move unerringly toward the bed. Toward Hera. The faint slither of her robe dropping down her body to the floor makes me so hard, it’s difficult to think. It’s always like this. No matter how cold we are in the daylight hours, no matter what violence her plots entail, in the dark all I can think about is the feel of her, the way she tastes on my tongue.

It’s because of that desperation that I hold back. That I have to hold back. I have to be sure. “Hera.”

“Gods, you are unbearable.”

I ignore that. “Say yes.”

“I’m naked and waiting in your bed, you utter bastard. Get over here and do your husbandly duties so I can get some sleep.”

When we were married, we signed a contract explicitly spelling out that an heir and a spare are required, but she demanded a full twelve months before actively attempting to get pregnant. I was more than happy to oblige that particular demand. Hades already has an heir on the way, which creates pressure for me to do the same, but there are few horrors I can imagine beyond forcing a pregnancy on a person, so even after the year is up, I’ll wait for Hera to decide for herself that she’s ready to stop taking her birth control.

 That year should mean we aren’t fucking, but that small detail got lost somewhere in translation. Every single night, when the lights go out, we find each other in the dark. And every single night, I refuse to touch her before getting verbal consent. “Say yes.”

She curses. “Yes.”

I don’t make her say it again. Her pride can only take so much, even in these times. Hera. My queen. The person in Olympus who hates me the most.

But when my fingers brush her hip, she grabs my wrist and pulls me down to her. No hesitation. No ice. Just a heat so intense, I’m certain it will burn us both away to nothingness. She’s not sharp as I pull her close and kiss her. She’s soft and fiery and full of need. Her fingers dig into my hips, urging me to line up with her, to get this over with.

Despite everything, stress and rage and a deep sense that I’m fucking things up beyond all repair in every facet of my life, I smile against her lips. “Say yes.”

“I hate you.”

It’s the truth. But not in this moment. When she’s moving against me, a battle of wills where we both win, I can almost see the partnership we could have if we’d just get out of our own ways. If she wasn’t Hera, determined to stand apart from her predecessors and survive. If I wasn’t Zeus, remaining in a long shadow of all those who have held the title before me. We would be unstoppable. We might even be happy.

But we are Zeus and Hera, and I can’t afford to forget that. I drag my mouth along her jaw to speak directly in her ear, as soft as a secret. “Say yes, Hera. Spread your thighs and let me taste you.”

Her nails prick my hips, but when she speaks, she’s the same cold creature I married. “I already said yes, Zeus. Don’t be a bastard and try to make me beg. You’ll fail.”

We both know that’s a lie, but I allow her the illusion that it’s not. She always begs in the end—for me to go harder, deeper, to not stop. Tonight, I don’t test the limits of her patience. I never do. Instead, I kiss my way down her body and settle between her thighs.

Here is where Hera is sweetest, and she proves it as truth yet again at the first slow drag of my tongue through her folds. Instantly, her legs fall wide open. She laces her fingers through my hair and lifts her hips to meet my mouth.

These stolen moments of peace never last. They’re a fantasy I can’t help engaging with, an alternate reality that I only allow myself to entertain when there is nothing to illuminate the lie. Dawn will come soon enough to pierce the illusion that I have a wife who actually wants me.

*

Chapter Two

Hera

I hate Zeus. I’ve hated Zeus since I was a little girl and realized exactly how much power he holds over Olympus—over my family. It doesn’t matter that this Zeus and that one are two different men. Zeus may be a title passed down from parent to child since the beginning of Olympus, but they’re all monsters.

This particular monster currently has two fingers inside me and is licking my clit in a rhythm that has my toes curling almost painfully.

It only makes me hate him more. I’ve never played Olympus’s virginal value game, but even I knew better than to flaunt my past lovers in the face of the Thirteen and the legacy families. I wouldn’t have become Hera if I had; a dubious benefit, except it is a benefit, and I hate that, too.

It doesn’t matter how little I like the man between my thighs. When the lights go out, I can almost pretend he’s someone else, someone whose pleasure I can accept without choking on it.

It’s unfortunate I’ve never been all that good at playing pretend.

Zeus crooks his fingers inside me again and again, driving me into an orgasm so strong, it almost wipes away the bitter taste of failure. If I’d gotten my way, I’d be a widow by now, my husband crushed in a truly unfortunate accident in that eyesore he calls a workplace. Instead, I’m shoving him onto his back and straddling him, taking his ridiculously large cock into me.

I don’t need to fuck my husband. [Redacted]. Every night, I tell myself that this will be the night I’ll go sleep in the spare bedroom, or will at least resist telling him yes the way he keeps insisting before touching me.

And every night, I’m back here again, riding his cock and letting pleasure sweep over me until this entire interlude hardly feels real.

In the morning, I’ll wake up to find him gone and I’ll hate him all the more for his absence. And maybe I’ll hate myself a little for the sliver of disappointment I can’t quite banish. I’ve always had more than my fair share of hate to spread around.

He grips my hips, pulling me down in a grinding motion while he presses against the sides of my mound with his thumbs. The squeeze isn’t direct contact to my clit, but after coming so hard from his tongue, I’m sensitive to the point of pain. It’s as if Zeus has a map of my pleasure in a way that no one else ever has. He’s so fucking methodical that I think he clocked me on our wedding night. He’s only gotten better since then.

Bastard.

Through it all, he never says a word. Not even when I lose control and dig my nails into his chest. “More!”

He gives me more. He always gives me more. Until I overflow with it, my body going tight and hot and gushing all over him. Normally, it’s enough to pull him over the edge with me, to end this awful, wonderful moment where nothing makes sense. Then we’ll clean up and retreat to our respective sides of the bed and sleep. Or he sleeps. I lie there, filled with loathing for him, for this city, and for myself.

Not tonight. He rolls us and shifts back to kneel between my legs, pressing my thighs wide until I’m bent in half. Then he’s inside me again, fucking me in long, punishing strokes that rub deliciously inside me. I don’t mean to reach for him. I sure as fuck don’t be mean to grab his hips and pull him deeper yet. “Harder,” I gasp.

He obeys. He always obeys. It should be enough to make me feel in control, but I’m the one unraveling and he’s still the perfect ice king. He fucks me like he’s mad at me, like he’s punishing me, but that doesn’t make any sense because who punishes with pleasure?

My orgasm barely faded and it’s already building again, even stronger this time. If I were more in control, I would shove him off and walk away, leaving him with only his hand for comfort. I’m too greedy. Instead of pushing him away, I pull him closer and then it’s too late, I’m coming again and this time he’s coming with me.

His hands flex on my thighs, holding me open even as my body pulses from the strength of the orgasm. “No more, Hera.”

I blink into the near-perfect darkness. I can’t even see his outline above me. Why is he talking to me? We don’t talk in bed. “What?”

“You’re discreet enough that not even MuseWatch has caught wind of your lover, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want him here.”

My…lover.

It takes my pleasure-drunk brain a beat to catch up. He means Ixion. He’s jealous of Ixion. The thought would make me laugh if I had the breath for it. I’m not fool enough to sleep with anyone except Zeus. That’s why I accepted this marriage, after all—to protect my sisters.

But admitting that Ixion and I aren’t having sex feels like giving away a piece of vital information—and power with it. Especially when I’m sure Zeus’s late nights at the office aren’t spent there alone. I see the way people watch him. Even though he’s not charismatic like his father, he’s got power and that’s enough to make him attractive to a certain type of person. Ganymedes missed becoming Hera and now he practically throws himself at Zeus every chance he gets. And he’s just one person. There are a dozen more young, beautiful things willing to play paramour, and those are only the ones I know about.

Not that I’m jealous. I’m not. I don’t care what my husband gets up to as long as it keeps him distracted from what I’m up to.

“Hera,” he growls. “I don’t demand much of you, but I’ll be damned before I let you make me a cuckold in my own home.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell the truth, but that’s just the pheromones from sex clouding my thinking. If Zeus believes the reason I’m sneaking around is because I’m fucking the head of my bodyguards, then he won’t be worrying about what I’m actually doing. Mainly: plotting his death.

“I will keep my extra curricular activities outside the penthouse,” I finally manage. It’s a good idea to leave it there, but I can’t quite help myself. I grab his shoulders and pull him down until I can feel his harsh breathing against my lips. “And you will give me the same courtesy. I don’t want to find someone else’s underwear in our bedroom.”

Zeus is silent for a beat. Then he thrusts into me, his cock already hardening again. We don’t do this. We don’t have sex more than once a night. I open my mouth to remind him of our truth, but he kisses me before I can get the words out. He nips my bottom lip. “Are you jealous, Hera?”

“No.” And I’m not. It’s about respect, not about wanting him all for myself. I don’t want him at all. The words feel a little insubstantial, so I shove at his shoulders. “We’ve met our requirement for the night.”

Instantly, he retreats. I tell myself that there’s no regret in my traitorous body as I sit up and scoot toward the edge of the bed. “Now you got me all sweaty. I need another shower.” The words are harsh with recrimination but I’m not sure if I’m more pissed at him…or myself.

Shutting the bathroom door between us doesn’t offer any clarity. Strategically, it makes sense to keep having sex with him. If he knew what I intended, he’d stop me. It’s best he suspects nothing.

The logic is solid enough. It’s the smart move. If I also get extreme levels of pleasure out of the bargain? Well, Zeus is a giant pain in my ass and being his wife is downright torturous most days. We essentially have a business partnership with a side of fucking, except neither one of us would have chosen the other if there were any other option.

He didn’t choose me. He was in negotiations with my mother for Psyche’s hand in marriage when that shit with Eros and Aphrodite hit the fan—two Aphrodites ago, which defies belief when titles usually shift once a generation. My sister married Eros in a truly reckless effort to live, and that left only me and Eurydice as candidates for our mother’s ambition. I couldn’t let Eurydice take that hit, so I stepped forward to do it instead. Zeus needed Demeter—and her allies—at his back, so he wasn’t in a position to refuse my offer.

 I turn on the shower and step in before the water has a chance to warm up. The shock of cold clears my thoughts and shatters the strange spell Zeus wove around me in the bedroom. I duck under the spray and make myself hold that position until the persistent desire to go another round disappears. It takes longer than I want to admit.

I don’t rush through drying off and braiding my hair back. With any luck, he’ll have fallen asleep by the time I return to the bed. As the racing of my heart finally slows to something more normal, I can’t help wondering at what happened tonight to cause him to break our silent rules.

He’s been coming home later and later in the evening, and even with Ixion and the others doing their best to keep track of his whereabouts, he slips away every time. Either he’s meeting with a lover—multiple lovers, even—or he’s up to something in relation to Olympus. Possibly both. Probably both.

Exhaustion rolls over me in a wave. I need to be in bed by midnight or I’m weaving on my feet. I’m well past that time tonight…or this morning, more accurately. I should have sent Ixion away and tried to get some sleep, but I can’t stand the thought of being in that big bed and being surprised by Zeus coming home unexpectedly. That’s all.

I scrub my hands over my face, apply my lotion, and pad out to the perfect darkness of our bedroom. Or near-perfect. Dawn is making itself known in between the cracks of the curtains. Really, I should skip sleeping entirely and go about my day, but my body has other ideas.

A few hours. In a few hours, I’ll be able to think again, to plan, to find the angle needed to see us through the coming conflict…