With a growl, I twirled on my heel. Staring out the massive windows before me. I’d never told Ares what I’d learned from the fates several millennia ago. About Eros. About his future.
Suddenly I felt warmth at my back, and then powerful hands were dragging me back by my shoulders. He fitted me snug into his body, rocking us slowly. I stiffened, finding myself irritated by his embrace. But I didn’t move either. I wanted both to be left alone and also fucked like an animal. Wild. Uninhibited. So hard and furiously that I forgot all my worries.
My nostrils flared as I scored my nails down his forearms, smirking as I spotted the beads of golden blood well up.
He hissed, but didn’t move. Ares was slave to his need of me. Everyone was. So why did I always feel like shite?
“You are still uneasy, Aphrodite. What is it?”
I hadn’t meant to tell him. In fact, I’d meant to banish him from my bed for annoying me. But instead the damned words spilled off my tongue.
“I went to see the Fates while I was pregnant with him Ares. Many lifetimes ago.”
He didn’t say a word, but I sensed his confusion.
I shook my head. “They told me he would betray me someday. For love of a woman.”
He instantly turned me around. His dark eyes peered through me, into my soul. Ares could read hearts nearly as well as I could. It was how he knew the darkness of men so well, and why he would incite wars with but a few simple, choice words. Because men, he said, were a cancer that needed to be kept in check lest their darkness ravage all the lands. On that he and I were in total agreement.
I flinched and looked away, not wanting him to see one of my worst humiliations in life. Shame.
A gentle press of his thumb brought my face back to his. “Aphrodite, tell me the truth now. I often wondered why you threw that boy into the arms of any and every eligible male on Olympus. When it was exceedingly obvious, even to me, that he was not an admirer of male flesh? Did you really sabotage our son’s ability to know a woman’s touch because of some damned prophecy uttered two thousand years ago?”
Furious at his high handedness, I tossed his arms off me and pointed at his chest. “Oh, now he’s our son! Since when have you ever taken an active interest in getting to know him!”
“You never let him off your teat long enough for anyone to get to know him! And well you know it, you damned hypocrite!”
We were both breathing like a bellows, staring angrily at one another. My blood resonated with the tang of fury and the fire of hate. His eyes burned like fiery cinder.
Then he smirked and I braced for what would come next. Same thing that always came next.
He pounced and I went wild.
I clawed at his face. His neck. His powerful chest and arms. I even bit the vein at the side of his neck, hard enough to break skin.
He growled, and his entire body quivered beneath me. There was hate in his touch, but there was desire too. And it coiled like a greedy serpent around me.
Anyone else, and I’d have killed them. But to my ever loving humiliation, I felt that same sort of need for him too.
Our sex was furious.
Wild.
He pulled my hair, so hard I felt strands being plucked free. I slapped his face. Delighting in the red blooms that suffused his dark cheeks.
We fucked like there was no tomorrow. We never kissed when we were hate fucking. Because this wasn’t love. This was lust. Pure and simple.
It was also some of the best sex we ever had.
After my third orgasm and his first, we were finally able to see beyond the haze of our dark emotions.
He was laying beneath me. One arm tied to the foot of my bed with the sash from my discarded robe. His chest rising steadily up and down. I slid off his face, still straddling him, feeling sticky and gloriously used, but still pissed as hell.
I chanced a look at him, but he was not looking at me. His hair was in disarray around his head. His eyes were still dark, not burning with fire, but disgust.
He found his need of me a weakness. A proud god like him shouldn’t need anything or anyone, he’d told me so on countless occasions. But I was his drug of choice and he was a hardcore junkie.
Somewhere in a private corner of my soul, in a place where I would only admit my deepest darkest truths to myself, I hoped he would look at me not with shame but with pride. Even love.
His eyes turned toward me. Aware I was looking. There was no pride in them. Just repugnance.
And that small, private island in my soul fractured just a bit more.
But I didn’t like to feel or even acknowledge pain, so much easier just to give into the anger. With a snarl, I slapped his cheek, and then I stood.
I smirked when the fire in his eyes raged. I was the only one who ever dared touch him in such a manner. I arched a brow, waiting, maybe even hoping he’d say something. But all he did was tug the sash loose, ripping it in the process, and rolled to a sitting position.
His hands were around his knees and he was staring off with a mile long look into the distance.
And for just a second. Just a fraction of a moment I suffered a terrible thought. What if one day I pushed him too far and he left me? I could not bear the humiliation.
I swallowed and then opened my mouth, ready to apologize for that last slap. Realizing I’d gone too far this time.
But he was looking at me now. His cheek was an angry red and I winced, realizing I’d slapped him just a little harder than I’d intended to.
“You’re such a fucking bitch, Aphrodite,” he hissed, speaking low but steadily. “You like to think that no one sees through your façade, that you’re an ice queen. But I know who you are. Who you really are? You’re a little girl with insecurities a mile long. Your heart is as cold and dark as your soul. You could have made us all love you. Worship you. But instead you choose to use your gifts to hurt anyone around you who might have tried to love you. One day you will push me beyond the limits of my endurance and I will not look back.”
I tried to hide my tremors, but I couldn’t keep from taking a miniscule step back and giving a soft shake of my head. “You fucking bastard,” I whispered, clenching my fingers together. When I felt the strongest it was like I forgot how to string words together.
He got easily to his feet. Standing tall and nude before me. And my heart sputtered. I clutched at my left breast. But he only shook his head.
“I hope to the primordial gods that one day you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”
Then he was gone, leaving only a swirl of glowing ash in his wake.
That’s when I came unglued. “Then stay gone! Don’t you ever return to my bed again!”
And in the darkness of that room I did what I would never do anyplace else.
I sobbed.
The tears spilled up from the very deepest pits of my soul.
I hadn’t started out wanting to be so wicked. But I also knew I would never change. Olympus would never allow that of me, not anymore. I’d burned too many bridges.
And as I felt sorrier and sorrier for myself, I began to think of my child. My wayward, beautiful child. He was hiding from me. I knew it. I just didn’t know why.
Sitting up, I scrubbed at my cheeks with my wrists. I still stunk of Ares’s mouth and jizz. I curled my nose. I didn’t want him anywhere on me. I would clean up. And then… I would find what my wicked child was up to and if this Psyche dared try to get her hooks in him, I would kill her.
In the most violent and hateful of ways.
I smirked, feeling better already.
Eros
“Very nice,” a sly, devil may care voice broke through my musings.
I twirled, for some reason I’d expected to see mother even though the voice had been a male.
To my surprise it was Dionysus who stood before me, leaning slightly against a pillar of my home. Legs crossed at the ankles, dressed in a fashion that was lightyears ahead of the time we currently inhabited.
My right brow lifted high
up on my forehead. “Uncle? This is an unexpected surprise.”
He snorted, pushing off the pillar and brushed at invisible lint on his hunter green dinner jacket. “Must I have a reason for visiting my favorite nephew?”
I narrowed my eyes, not trusting his innocuous expression. “No. But why are you really here?”
He chuckled, before looking around the palace I’d taken great pains to build with my own hand’s day and night. I’d found the perfect location, hidden in a perpetual bank of low lying clouds coming in from the coast.
The palace was simple. Not as opulent as the ones upon Olympus. It was not hewn of gold, or silver, pearls, or whatever else the gods fancied. It was built of the very stone of this land. But my attention to detail was absolute. And I had managed a trade with the local sea witch. A harmless love spell for a pile of her best sea glass. From it I’d begun creating an elaborate splash mosaic. It was not yet done. I had the image in my head, but not much yet in the way of work. Dionysus found me now sitting amidst the pile of polished glass.
Carefully, I moved the pieces I had on my lap, making sure to keep the colors separated. It’d been the devil organizing the over ten thousand pieces last night, and I stood.
“Nice palace, my boy.” He said, staring up at the domed ceiling that rose twenty feet above us, then at the pitch covered torches flickering upon the walls. Then his bright eyes met mine. “If one didn’t know better, one might actually believe you intended to take up residence here.”
My heart gave a stutter and I automatically shook my head. “I am here but for a time.”
He snorted. “Right. Well, good to know.”
I swear, for a god of the drink and revelry Dionysus was surprisingly astute at seeing the truth beneath the surface.
Swiping a hand across my sweaty brow, I gave him innocent eyes. “Well, Uncle?”
“Ah yes,” he smirked, “my real reason for visiting. You were right, of course.” He walked ever so slightly closer. His dark hair was combed back, his olive complexion bright and not sallow like it was when he’d been too long in his drink. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him as sober as he’d been the past few times, I’d seen him.
“Do you know, Eros,” he said lazily as he traced the lines of one of my own paintings. It was of the monster Medusa. A monster I felt tremendous sympathy for. What Athena had allowed to happen to her made me sick to my stomach.
I’d encountered the vivacious Medusa when she’d been but a girl of five. She’d had wings then, just like me. I’d often flown alongside her, invisible, cloaked in my shadows, but she’d always seemed aware of my presence. Laughing and giggling, even speaking to me a time or two. And I would play along, because I’d liked her. She’d had a sweet soul. Even though I’d seen the mark of the gods upon her, and had known in my heart her end would be a terrible one and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it, I’d still felt drawn to her.
But her curse had come as I’d always known it would and our flights had stopped and I hadn’t seen her for many years after that. Not until I’d learned of Athena’s wrath against such an innocent. I’d gone to Medusa, to do what I still wasn’t sure.
But she’d been greatly changed. To look into her eyes now would have been the end of me. My heart had shattered that day for the innocent girl she’d been, for the caprice of the gods, and I’d burned with hatred against my own kind. But I was not my father, I did not have the power to stop any of them. The most I could do was create ridiculous love matches. I was powerless. I could not stop the madness of the gods.
“You’ve captured this monster with such love,” Dionysus said, staring at her askance and smiling what looked to be a genuine one at her. “She was once quite lovely, wasn’t she? Terrible thing Poseidon, Hypnos, and Athena did.”
I blinked. “But I thought—”
Dionysus twirled, hands behind his back. “What? That only Athena had done it? Oh, my dear boy, quite often the women of the tales carry the weight of the blame, but usually there is always another behind those tales of woe. Your Uncle is a very bad man. Very bad.” He frowned. “He’s got them all fooled. He makes a play for Zeus’ throne you know.”
I’d always known of my Uncle’s hubris and avarice. That was no secret, but I couldn’t understand why we were suddenly speaking of Poseidon.
Dionysus sighed. “Boy, Poseidon is the god of the waters. He is the god of these waters, to be more specific. Did you really imagine none would learn of your pleasure palace with that gossip so close?”
I shook my head. “He and mother are not—”
“You sure about that, boy? For someone who seems to see the ugliness of his mother’s heart you are quite naïve. Poseidon and Aphrodite share very similar traits. They’re hungry and that makes them very dangerous. They’re smart enough to recognize that advantages of working together. Make no mistake your mother will soon learn of this place.”
Realizing the jig was up, I finally tossed my hands wide and shrugged. “Then it’s hopeless and I shouldn’t bother.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Well, not entirely, son. You see, I’m looking for a plot of land to grew a new, more dynamic breed of grape on. This little plot here, well, it would make an excellent winery.”
I nodded. “I see, so you wish to take from me. This was not a friendly visit after—”
“And since I’ve no wish to allow any of the rabble to learn of my new secret vino recipe, I will of course require that the Fates shelter this plot of land, so that no prying eyes but my own shall be able to spy upon it.”
I blinked. Mouth snapping shut as I worked through the implications of what he was saying.
I’d always known that for whatever reason Dionysus had the ears of the Fates. But was he in such good standing with them that he could literally command them to use their powers in such a manner? Strangely, if he was, I knew his idea could work. None but the fates could conceal such from the eyes of the gods.
A muscle in my cheek twitched and I stared at my uncle with newfound appreciation.
“You would, of course, stay on. Tend to my fields. I’m far too busy to laze about, you know.”
“Why would you do that?” I shook my head, feeling confused and not at all sure of what I’d been so sure of just moments earlier.
“I never do anything for free, my boy. At least in that I’m far more honest than most. You’ll always know where you stand with me. I guess the question is, is that enough for you?”
I looked down, at the hand he held out silently toward me. If I shook it, I knew I’d be agreeing to a pact. The ramifications of which I wasn’t sure I could live with. Gods were tricky bastards, and I had a feeling that Dionysus might be the craftiest of the bunch.
“Before I shake your hand, Uncle, I want to know why. A real answer. Not a vague one. Lay it all out for me.”
Pursing his lips, he looked me up and down a second, before finally heaving a large sigh. “I will not tell you all my reasons, some of them do not pertain to you. But I will tell you this, young Eros. I know who Psyche is. What she means to you. And what she will mean to all of us. One day.”
I frowned. His words sounded almost identical to what Atropos had told me herself. Just who was Psyche to us? I was more intrigued now than I’d been earlier, which was astonishing considering Psyche seemed to be the only thought in my head nowadays.
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you much more. Only this. You have ten seconds to decide. Right now. Yay. Or nay.”
Then he shoved his hand at me, nearly into my belly.
“Nine. Eight. Seven. Six…”
Something told me to trust him. That without him I would not be able to pull this off. If he’d found me, others would soon too. Atropos had done something to my mind, allowing me to hide what mother could see through my eyes, but that wouldn’t stop her from being able to peer through the clouds down at this land. Unless, of courses, Dionysus hid this place from all prying eyes.
“Three…”
/> I took his hand. Instantly a glow burned bright between our palms, and then I felt the air quicken with power. A pact had been sealed. Fate had shifted.
I cocked my head.
“All of this for me? Why?” I asked, confused. I was an insignificant god in terms of power within the pantheon. Dionysus too, even though he was considered one of the big twelve. Yet, I felt like something of great portend had just occurred but I wasn’t sure what.
“She likes gardens by the by. Flowers from exotic lands.”
And then, just like that, Dionysus was gone.
And not a moment later, there was a loud knocking at the door. The walls boomed with the echoing sound.
Confused, I walked to the door. Opened it. And standing there, was mother. Dressed in robes of shimmering white.
“Why the hell can’t I see you anymore, Eros! Why have you hidden yourself so? Making me come to you. You know how busy I am.”
That was it. No words of greeting. Just scolding’s. As mother often did. My heart clenched, realizing how accurate Dionysus’s prophecy had been. Mother had been watching this land already. But with it hidden from her gaze in the sky the only way for her to see me now would be to actually come to me, which she wouldn’t do much of. Mother detested leaving Olympus for long periods of time. The fact that she’d come to showed just how desperate she was beginning to feel.
I pushed down my nerves and affected a nonchalant grin.
“Hello to you too,” I said after she’d pushed her way through, bumping into my shoulder. I shut the door behind her.
“Why the devil are you staying at one of Dionysus’s slummy palaces?” she asked with a snarl.
I frowned. “What?” And turning, I saw all the same craftsmanship. My paintings were still lining the walls. The mosaic with only the stenciled image sketched upon the walls, was before us.
She pointed to a painting of the bloody and broken minotaur, looking up into the heavens with a mask of piercing sorrow in his eyes.
“Hello,” she snarled. “This piece of perversion is unfit to look upon. All these nude women and that man’s cock dripping with jizz. It’s filthy.”
The King of Hearts (The Dark Kings Book 9) Page 6
