The Gods of Men (Gods of Men, #1)

by Barbara Kloss

She hated the gods. She hated what men did in their name.

It was the stillness before battle, when earth and trees and sky held their breath. It was the pause before fate pulled and power shifted, when present became past, and future stretched into the present. It was when the gods set destinies in motion.

The white marble gave a sharp contrast to the temple’s glossy black interior—a reminder that though the people might add colorful interpretation to the law, the gods worked in black and white.

The glorious rise and falls of their cries, the raw pulse of distant screaming. It was the anthem of a hunter—his anthem—and he would have more. He would engorge himself with it.

I will make clothing from his skin, and you will wear it. You will always remember what happens to those who oppose me.