Love's Immortal Panthoen 3: Bellona's War Ribbon

Curran studied the impeccable glistening marble statue before him. Fine feminine features
stared unseeing into the vast room, some of the best sculptor rendering he’d seen to date of the
famous war goddess, Bellona. A heavy plate of chest armor guarded her naked breast, visible through
the arm slit on either side. Her sword rested near her thigh gripped in her hand, as though she
surveyed her battle from a point above it. Her hip was twisted, her leg propped on a haphazard stack
of books. For such a beauty, the strength of will in that face was formidable.
He felt a tingle of a shiver cross his shoulders, envisioning the scene. The screams of the
fighting, the smoke of the fires, the crush of the soil beneath his feet. Curran could place every
molecule of such a battle, every nanosecond of action. It was enthralling.
His entire life he’d studied ad nauseam the Roman and Etruscan empires, delving into every
crevice of history to find this goddess. Known as the wife, daughter and sister to Mars, Curran found it
least distasteful to make her place standing next to Mars, as the god’s sister. Considering how the gods
and goddesses liked to play within their own gene pools, he certainly didn’t want the wife, nor the
daughter, of such an antagonistic male god.
Want?
He sighed in disgust, shifting his weight to his other foot. There it was again. His therapist had
warned him the obsession would linger since his very livelihood revolved around the ancient deity and
her evolution and demise, among others. At least now, he’d learned to separate the obsession from his
real life. He’d never once believed he’d be susceptible to such a weakness, but he was.
He’d dreamed of her. He’d compared every woman he met to her. To the strength and fortitude
of the goddess. She was brash, yet knew compassion when it came to the innocent of war. She invoked
passion, demanded ferocity in every aspect of life. There was nothing soft about her.
Except in his dreams.