After being stuck on earth when the door to the realm of the gods and goddesses slams shut, Luna, Moon Goddess, indulges in sexual frolicking with neither care nor consequences. Until the night she is abducted, forced to use her erotic skills to line the pockets of four friends. She meets a beautiful young Mereling—a mortal man like her captors, but alluringly different—and for the first time in her very long life begins to understand the difference between lust and love. Her newfound ability to love Merelings gives her the capacity to feel grief and awakens not only her own compassion, but that of her abductors. How will she deal with the inevitable? She is immortal, and they must each die? What happens when she follows them to the Underworld? And how does she get to where she lives today, shining her light on all lovers?

Moon Love
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For six nights, they bought all my time, and I spent it with them happily. For me, an Immortal, the week passed quickly and simply as one of great physical pleasure. I looked forward to the fun, yes, but I scarcely thought of any of them during the day. They, however, were becoming fixated. The fifth night, each of them said something, which, in retrospect, I should have paid better attention to.

Each in his own way spoke of needing me. Of never wanting to let me go. Of being unable to live without me. I heard hyperbole, when I should have recognized the threat embedded in such overwrought declarations.

The sixth night, something in the air I could not quite define made me ill at ease. Each communicated tension in his lust making. Each evidenced an edge in his speech. The youngest still seemed most at ease with me, and, as he had on other nights, took time to pleasure me even while I pleasured him. Still, he would prove to be one of The Four, which is what I came to call them in my mind.

Four with the instincts of thieves and the morals of lamprey eels. I would come to feel thus about them for longer than I care to remember.

I began to climb down from my oak perch that final night just as my brother began his chariot ride to bring the light of a new day to the world. The Four were all waiting, and Old Fishbreath had disappeared, nowhere to be seen. I called for him, but he did not answer. I scurried back up to my oak-branch perch, but the paunchy one grabbed at my heels. He caught me, pulled a rope around me. The rough coil bit into my skin. I kicked and cursed, wrapped my arms around a branch, held tight. He called to the others, and the three of them added their hands to the effort. With one unified, wrenching yank, they broke my grasp on the tree and hauled me down to the ground.

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