“Nah, he’ll jump into a game of Call of Duty with us sometimes, but Heph is into the whole roleplaying game thing more than anything. I think he plays Elder Scrolls on his computer. Look, we didn’t lie about being fully committed to sharing this time around and not being a bunch of assholes to each other, but if you want my advice, Beau can wait a day. He spent centuries with you as Ares. Go see Alex first.”
“Okay.”
“Want a ride?”
“Yes, please. I hate driving on the ice.”
Esme left a note on the fridge whiteboard, stating she’d gone to visit Alex. Then she tossed on her coat and followed Luke outside.
“Luke?”
“Hm?”
“How does Alex like his coffee.”
“He doesn’t. He drinks tea. Why?”
“Just curious.”
Luke glanced over the street and adjacent yards before sweeping her into his arms again. Seconds later, after the whirlwind of divine power settled, the frost-kissed grounds of Alex’s estate surrounded them. “Text me when you’re ready to go home, unless you have Augustus drive you.”
“Okay. Thank you, Luke.” She kissed his cheek.
The door opened to reveal Alex’s suited manservant before she reached the top step. “Greetings, Madam Esme. How may I be of service?”
“Is Alexander in?”
“He is in the forge. Shall I announce you?”
Esme pursed her lips. “No. I’d like to surprise him.”
“Very well then.” Augustus gestured her onward as Luke faded away.
Led by her memory of the estate, she made her way from the main building and onto the path to the forge. At first, she stared at the door, but nudging the oversized stone portal slid it with minimum effort.
The sweltering heat provided a welcoming respite from the wintry chill, and the fire cast an orange glow over the adjacent surfaces, shadows pooling over others distant from the immense hearth where an enormous dragon sat back on its hindquarters. One of its claws wrapped around the largest hammer she’d ever seen.
A dragon.
There was a dragon in the forge, the top of its head almost touching the ceiling, though it hunched over and studied its work with the diligence of any master artisan. Light flickered off its molten orange scales. Each one gleamed like amber, and his claws resembled obsidian scythes.
“Holy shit.” When her voice echoed against the domed ceiling, the creature jerked its attention toward her and stared through two glossy scarlet eyes divided by narrow slit pupils. She saw her own reflection and shrank back against the door, a shriek torn from her throat.
Instead of surging across the forge to devour her, it dropped the hammer and squirmed back against the adjacent wall like a petrified wild animal seeking a place to hide.
He didn’t move, and neither did she. They stared at each other across the distance, one woman and one mythological creature with an eerily familiar face and scars across its scaled body matching the ones she had committed to her memory during a beautiful night of lovemaking.
“Alex?” The terror pounding behind her breast eased, and then there was only concern for him.
Fleeing wasn’t an option, so she swallowed her panic and moved across the floor.
“Don’t look at me.” He shrank back on his haunches, forearms raised in front of his face and one wing partially folded in front of him.
Esme crossed the floor to him. He turned his back on her, revealing the other wing. It was stunted, less than half the size of its twin. Still, she raised her fingers to touch the leather surface and feel the warmth of it beneath her fingers. “Why not?” she asked gently.
“I didn’t want you to see me this way.”’
“In what way?”
“Like this. Hideous.”
“You aren’t hideous, Alex.”
He looked down over his shoulder at her and snorted in disgust, releasing twin plumes of black smoke and fire. “Don’t lie to me.” Although he had no human face, his features remained expressive, as there were ridges above his eyes like brows, and his tooth-filled maw had a distinctive shape that seemed to frown.
“You’re not hideous. Nothing about you like this is hideous.”
As a dragon, he loomed above her, but she could reach his flanks and touch his lower spine. His skin—or were they scales—was rough in some places and smooth in others like unconditioned leather. Like the interior of her cousin’s current restoration of an old Dodge Charger, the seats all beat to hell and worn by time, aged, but not hideous. Touching him reminded her of a snake a zookeeper once allowed her to pet as a child. But so warm. So warm she dared to rest her cheek against his powerful ribs and listen to the mighty thunder of his heartbeat beneath it. One tremendous crash, then silence. Another great roar, then silence. His heart must have beat once every few seconds, if not slower.
“You’ve never lied to me about my looks before, Esme. Don’t do it now.”
“Of course I’ve never lied.” She racked her brain to think of any time she’d ever implied he was anything but perfect, and then she knew, without asking. It was like he’d winded her. Assaulted her with a slap in the face.
“You’re comparing me to her again.”
Alex said nothing.
“I don’t know the past things Aphrodite has said to you. I know the hurtful things she’s done behind your back, but I am not her. If she saw ugliness, then that only proves how different we’ve become. Because I see beauty, Alex. I see beauty, strength, and power. Yes, there are flaws, but they make you someone unique and different, someone special who is worth being loved. Your mother didn’t deserve you. The old Aphrodite didn’t deserve you.”
He twisted around and lowered closer to her. “You truly do not despise my appearance?”
“No. I…” Realization hit her. She gazed up at him, seeing the image of the flawless bronze dragon with his wings spread open, prepared to take flight. The model from which it had been inspired was no less majestic. “The statue is you.”
“It was how I wish I could be. Powerful and strong. Not this… this crippled body.”
“Then it’s no longer my favorite piece of work from you, because I love the person you are now.”
Alex didn’t move. For a moment, he seemed to be struggling to process her words. So was she. They had come out of her on their own, like another person had taken control of her mouth and used her as a puppet.
Something from deep within her soul had surged out and taken the lead, lifting a tremendous and oppressive weight from her chest in the process. Freeing her.
“You… love me?”
“I suppose I must. Saying it felt… right.” Though the word love also felt inadequate and far too weak to describe the flourishing emotion building in her chest.
“I have always loved you,” he rasped out suddenly. “From the moment I first saw you in Olympus, the day I set my mother free from her golden prison, I knew no woman, no goddess, would ever compare. Until now. You, Esme, are a true treasure. I never thought I could love as deeply as I do.”
Esme placed her palm against his scaled cheek and kissed his warm snout. As a shudder went through him, old memories surged to the surface and danced through her thoughts, some nebulous and almost formless, others more cohesive and solid visions. She saw herself, a different her in the past sitting beside the magnificent creature on the balcony of a golden, celestial palace, and together they had watched the sunset over Olympus. “Will you watch the sunset with me again as we once did?”
“Yes. But first, I have something for you.” Hephaestus—it felt right in her mind to think of him as Hephaestus now, seeing him in all his draconic glory as a true god of fire—lowered to all fours and hurried to the distant side of the forge. He claimed something from a shelf and returned.
“What is it?”
The dragon lowered two silver cuffs and a white belt onto her open palms. The latter shone like opal or mother of pearl, and it was softer than conditioned leathe
r but glossy as metal with a rose gold buckle.
Esme traced her thumb over the silhouettes of rose buds and flowers. “These are gorgeous.”
“My gift to you. The belt is designed to amplify Aphrodite’s talents over love, some of which you seem to retain in small amount. May it help you during this journey in the coming days to regain your immortality.”
“And these?” She traced her thumb over the polished silver bracelets.
“They will shield you from danger.”
While he watched, she donned the cuffs then slipped the belt around her waist and fastened it, noticing it slimmed by magic to fit into her belt loops. She used his narrow pupil as a makeshift mirror to admire her reflection and grinned. “Thank you.”
His ember-bright eyes shone with joy. “I have finished the sword for Ares, but I have two other commissions to complete. Will you stay? Your advice has always been invaluable to me.”
“Of course. After all, I’ve always liked watching you craft, right?”
Without needing him to remind her where to sit, Esme took the seat once occupied by her former incarnation. And there she remained for the afternoon while her metalworking dragon made art from formless ore.
Not now, but soon, she’d have to speak to him about his mother and do whatever she could to mend the broken bond between them.
After all, hadn’t he claimed her guidance to be helpful?
After spending her Friday afternoon and evening with Alex, Esme worked extra hours over the weekend to make up for missed time at Memory Lane, going so far as to take over Meg and Clover’s shifts so they could have both days free. Not that it was hard or overwhelming work when all she had to do was sit behind the counter and answer questions. A few customers came in Christmas Eve morning for last-minute gifts, and Esme kept eyeballing the clock, waiting for it to strike three.
During that shift, she borrowed a sheet of floral stationery from the manager’s office and wrote a letter to the Underworld.
Dear Persephone,
I want to begin this letter by apologizing for any wrongs I have committed against you in the past during my previous life as Aphrodite. I have few memories of these times, but what I have learned is to become a different person in this life. You have my word that I won’t pursue Adonis again, in this life or any other.
I hope we can one day find friendship.
After a moment of debating how to sign it, she wrote her mortal name, folded the letter into an envelope, and texted Luke a request to deliver it. He did.
Time dragged after that, but the moment the chimes rang out, she bolted for the door and flipped the sign to closed. Freedom, finally.
Since Christmas held no real meaning to the guys, she had made plans with her friends instead to help make up for disappearing three days. She’d been kissing Marie’s ass ever since she returned, even sending Luke away for delicious truffles from Belgium and French wine to share until her friend forgave her.
Jordan picked her up outside and they headed to her home, where Marie and Ashley had already covered every horizontal space in garlands and cheery holiday knickknacks. A modest pile of presents filled in the space beneath their decorated tree.
“Are your dudes not joining us?” Ashley asked once they were all settled in the living room with drinks and a holiday movie playing on the television.
“Nah, they all had, um, other places to be.”
“Girl, I still can’t believe you have two men,” Jordan said.
“Three,” Marie corrected. “Alexander Smith is sweet on her too.”
They all stared at Esme. “What? He’s a great guy.”
Marie cackled and clapped her hands before hurrying to her feet. “Go look at our backyard.”
“What’s back there?” Ashley asked.
Esme sighed. “Marie—”
“Just go look.” Marie grinned at her and led the way to reveal the dragon sculpture arranged beside the garden patio.
Jordan stared out the window for a while before he turned to raise both of his fair brows. “He gave you that piece from the auction?”
“It arrived yesterday. He bought back his own piece that night at the auction because Esme told him she loved it.”
Jordan leered at her. “What’d you have to do to get that?”
Ashley sipped her rum-laced eggnog. “How many of them have you boned yet?”
“You people are terrible.”
“What? After all the time we spent picking you up after Daniel, we totally deserve to see you happy. And hear your sordid and dirty sexcapades,” Jordan said as they migrated back to the living room.
“I’ve only slept with one of them. Yes, he was hung, no, I won’t say which, and yes, it was amazing. The end.”
“I stand by my previous assessment: lucky bitch.” Jordan raised his beer in toast.
Esme rolled her eyes. “Enough about me. What about you? I thought you were going to ask out that guy in your English class.”
Jordan’s face fell. “I did. He’s got a guy down at UCLA already. He was really sweet about it, but I’m mortified.”
“Hey, don’t be.” She reached out and rubbed his back. “It just means he’s not the guy meant for you, but I know there’s one out there and when you meet him, he’s gonna be blown away by how amazing you are.”
“You’re the bomb, Es, you know that?” Jordan put his hand over hers and squeezed.
“I do my best.”
“Since when did you get all optimistic about love?” Ashley asked.
“I dunno. I guess when I figured out I that I didn’t have to be miserable about Daniel dumping me. Once I realized that, everything sorta fell away and started sorting itself out.”
“Plus, three guys,” Marie added, to everyone’s amusement.
“Speaking of Daniel…” Jordan’s eyes lit up. “Word has it that Shelly is banging the middle linebacker behind his back. Talk about sweet justice, right?”
“Actually, I think it’s kinda sad.”
“All right, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” Marie demanded.
“It’s true,” Esme said. “Look, I agree, Daniel was a jerk and it hurt when he cheated on me but… but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even him.”
“I agree,” Ashley said in a soft voice. Esme smiled at her.
Marie sighed. “In the spirit of Christmas, fine, no more smack talk about douche exes and cheating skanks. Agreed?”
They all clinked their drinks together. “Agreed.”
15
Time without the guys around gave Esme time to think with a clear head, a mind unclouded by muscles and promises of sex. After a lazy Christmas afternoon with her friends—they’d all slept in—opening presents, watching slasher flicks, and stuffing their faces with sweets from the local bakery, Esme had been ready to go back to work. But while shoppers perused the store displays, her mind wandered.
How could she prove she was the goddess of love and worthy of getting her powers back? Did she even want to become a divine being?
The obvious answer was yes. Who wouldn’t want to be a powerful goddess? Especially one who was renowned for her beauty. But something still made her hesitant. She didn’t want power to be beautiful. She wanted to be equal with the three men who had turned her world upside down.
So how did she do it?
“Excuse me, miss?”
She snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at the man standing nearby. “Sorry, can I help you?”
“I’m trying to find a gift for my wife. I mean, my ex-wife.” He smiled in a sad sort of way.
“A gift for your ex-wife?”
The man chuckled, and his wind-reddened cheeks flushed even darker. “Yeah. I know that has to sound strange, but she used to be my best friend, you know? And she’s still the mother of my children. Doesn’t seem right to not send a gift for her too.”
“Doing a second Christmas?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. If you don’t mind
me asking, what sort of gift are you going for? Just a general ‘thinking of you at the holidays’ gift or more along the lines of ‘I still care for you’ gift?
“I miss her,” he admitted. “I miss how things used to be.”
The ache in his eyes reached out and spoke to her deep down inside. “Tell me a little about her. What do you remember most?”
He stroked his chin and gazed at the items on the counter and adjacent tables. “She has amazing hair. A lot of it. It’s dark like yours, and she collects fancy pins and clips from around the world since she likes to wear it up while at work. She’s a doctor.”
“That’s a good start. We have some beautiful pieces over here.” She led the way to a display further in the room. Heirloom hairpins and clips rested on velvet beds next to several antique brushes and hand mirrors. “What colors does she like?”
“Everything.”
When his gaze gravitated to a piece on the end, he sucked in a quiet breath. Esme unlocked the case and carefully took out the jeweled peacock comb. Gemstones in various shades of blue, green, topaz, and purple stood out against silver filigree.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
“Don’t you even want to know how much it costs first?”
The man shook his head. “No. It’s perfect. Do you do gift wrapping?”
“Absolutely.”
Later on, after she’d sent the man on his way with a beautifully wrapped gift, she sat down at the front counter and texted Luke. Seeing the love in the gentleman’s eyes, and hearing his story, had given her the inspiration she needed for what to do next.
We need to go back to Olympus to see Zeus tomorrow, she sent in a message.
Okay?
She chuckled at his confused response and sent another message. Time to play marriage counselor. Trust me.
If she was going to prove herself the personification of true love, then what better way to start than by fixing one of the oldest loves in the world?
Freed from a long week of kissing ass to her boss and coworkers, Esme awakened Friday morning to shower and squeeze into jeans. She pulled on a sweater, slipped into a pair of boots, buckled on Aphrodite’s girdle, and sat on the edge of her bed to text Luke.
Divine Ambrosia Page 16
