by Rosanna Leo
The look on her face that said, as clear as day, she didn't believe him.
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Chapter 8
She didn't believe him! How could she not believe him?
She'd been willing to believe he was an immortal who'd helped her cross over into the pit of eternal despair, but she was having trouble buying the fact he might have feelings for her? Preposterous!
Did he have feelings for Josie Marino? As she stood up and brushed off her luscious, sand-encrusted ass, he felt the insistent throbbing of his cock.
He definitely had something for her.
Okay, Dionysus decided. It was time to be truthful with himself, something which had never come easily. Not when he was ineffectively mourning Ariadne and his unborn child at all those orgies centuries ago. Not when he was burying himself in the welcoming flesh of so many women in the years since to help him forget. He'd always figured having sex, as much sex as possible, was his mission. His raison d'etre. He'd never questioned it, and Zeus only knew, he'd given thanks for his role countless times.
The existence of the god of wine had always felt pretty sweet.
But, for the first time in so long, he was starting to see it for what it was. A very long string of sensual, meaningless escapades. Signifying nothing, as the man said. He'd only ever fathered the one child. With Ariadne, he'd been happy and free and had been pleased to fill her belly with his seed. But not one other sexual partner had ever tempted him to propagate again. No other woman had ever made him question his role, or whether or not he'd even make a good parent.
Until now.
Under the frank, somewhat sad, scrutiny of a little Canadian baker, he was shaking in his boots! Wanting her to believe he was worthy of her affection.
And she didn't believe it. Of course not. Josie had seen him dallying with countless women. Why would she assume what he felt for her was anything more than what he'd felt for them? Lust, in its most basic form.
Gods, he hated himself right now!
"Where do we go now?” she asked. Her hazel eyes looked so cold and hard they could have contained little pieces of chipped gold.
"Josie,” he started, standing up to join her.
"We really should get going. We have to find Eurydice."
She started walking, moving in one direction, then another, because she had no idea where she was going. He caught up to her and reached for her elbow. “Josie, I meant what I said."
He had to convince her. Somehow, it was imperative that he convince her! If she believed nothing else, she had to believe this.
She turned, tears shining in her eyes. “Don't, Dionysus, just don't. I may not have special powers other than baking Italian pastry, and I may not have had a thousand partners in my bed, but I have enough wisdom to recognize when a man is lying to me."
"That wasn't a lie! I would never lie about something like that."
"Oh,” she interrupted, swiping at her wet cheeks. “But you'd lie about other things?"
He grunted in frustration. “When I saw you in that water, it almost killed me. I don't claim to understand it, but it's true. I wasn't just saying that to get into your pants!” And because he was only accustomed to being a selfish asshole, he added, “Besides, if I'd wanted to get into your pants, I would have been there by now!"
Her face fell.
Shit. He hadn't quite meant to say that.
"Well, it's a good thing you don't want in my pants,” she muttered, her voice rising with each syllable. “Because there's no way in hell, even this hell, that you'll ever be allowed in them!"
He watched her storm off down the blasted beach and wondered how it had all gone south so very quickly. By Hera's teats, he hadn't suffered such a case of bad judgment since he'd granted King Midas the golden touch!
As she walked away from him—gods help him, no woman had ever walked away from him—he glared at her glorious ass. Wiggling in perfect indignation. And his hungry, angry cock jerked in response.
It wanted her so badly.
He wanted her so badly. But he knew it wasn't just the sex he wanted. All of sudden, he wanted all sorts of nutty things. To cuddle with her, to give her back rubs. He felt a bizarre need to hear how her days went and to see if he could improve them.
He even had an unusual urge to play with her stupid cat!
Okay, so maybe it wasn't just about the sex, although he suspected it would be pretty mind-blowing sex. He wanted her to believe in him, and it was clear he was going to have to prove himself to Josie to help her believe in him. Saving her life a dozen times was apparently not good enough, the little minx.
And yet, even as he decided sex was not the goal, he began to wonder if it might not be the path to his goal. Maybe in making love to her as only he could, he could show her his desire for her was different, special. Perhaps, if he could get her to give in to their denied passion, they'd be able to sort out all these annoying, troublesome emotions. The way would grow clearer. If nothing else, as Eryx had suggested, maybe he could then get her out of his system.
He arched an eyebrow toward her retreating, still wiggling ass. Feeling the raw ache of furious hunger.
Considering the part of hell next on their agenda, it might not be too hard to get little Josie to give into temptation.
It might not be too hard at all.
Josie stopped walking when she realized she didn't know where she was going. Which was a shame, because she felt she'd really made a good exit back there. It would be so embarrassing to have to stop in her tracks and ask for directions.
What had Dionysus been thinking, telling her his worst fear was her dying? Surely he had to realize it sounded like the most pathetic come-on in history.
And yet, in that heated moment, she'd really wanted to believe him. He'd looked at her with those incredible, dark eyes, appearing so pained. So love-struck even. She'd wanted to fall hook, line, and sinker.
To be perfectly frank, she'd wanted to tear all her clothes off and pull him down on top of her in a frenzied embrace.
But something had stopped her from doing just that. Specifically, the image of Dionysus mourning a woman of mythologically beautiful proportions. Ariadne. The stunning woman she'd seen etched into the sand. A Greek princess, of all things. What had he said about her? That she'd had a body “made for sin"?
And what had he said about good, ol’ Josephine Marino not so long ago? That she lacked personal grooming.
Oh, yeah, sure. She was the love of his life.
She was fairly certain her anger stemmed from the fact that, in a weird fashion, she was way too curious about how it would feel to be the love of his life.
What if she fell for him? What then? It would last all of two seconds before he found someone he liked better, and she'd end up feeling broken and used. He'd been with a gazillion women. How could she possibly compare?
No. He'd only said that for some sick reason she hadn't discovered yet. He was trying to charm her the way Sean Davison had all those years ago. She wouldn't let him.
But back to the problem at hand. She didn't know where to go next.
He caught up to her, sauntering at a leisurely pace. The perfect hem of his robe flowed in the breeze, giving her another eyeful of appetizing man thigh. Grinning, as if he knew something she didn't, his eyes dipping down to caress her embarrassingly wet breasts, her waist, her hips. Then slowly traveling back up her form, warming her right through as he took in the frazzled look on her face.
He looked like the cat that had licked the first sweet dollop of fresh cream. Appeased for now, yet still ravenous.
She felt herself color and put her hands on her hips. “Where do we go now, Sean?"
He stopped. His face paled. “Who's Sean?"
Oh, shit. There was no way she was going there. “No one. Just ... no one.” If he could keep his secret for months, so could she. She braced herself and crossed her arms, letting him know the topic was a non-starter. “Where do we go?"
He walked right up to her, leaving virtually no space between them. His eyes creased with something that appeared suspiciously like jealousy. And desire. Making her hot, hot, hot like that stupid song she'd never liked. “The next level of Hades, of course."
"Which is?"
He proffered a grim, little smile. “It's a place called ‘The Sinners.’”
"That sounds promising.” She pulled a face. “So, do we have to go to all these levels to get to Eurydice? Can't we cut straight to the chase if you think you know where she is?"
"I wish it were that simple. However, there is an order to Hades. If we can't survive one level, we're not considered ... worthy of the next. You can't skip levels. Even I can't."
"Okay, smart guy. So how do we get to these ‘sinners'?"
He pointed through a veil of trees she hadn't noticed earlier. In fact, the landscape had totally changed in the space of a few seconds. The beach had disappeared. They were now on a forest trail. A trail leading to a magnificent mansion at the end of the path. A place that was, even from a distance, meandering and ornate. More impressive than London's Parliament buildings and twenty times as large.
She looked down at her still-damp clothes. “I don't think I'm dressed for that place."
He narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips turning up in a provocative half-grin. “Don't worry. Believe me, the occupants of that house are wearing even less."
And before she could question him further, Dionysus grabbed her hand and led her through the trees.
It took about fifteen minutes for them to reach it. With each passing moment, Josie felt her heart speeding up. Up close, the mansion seemed even bigger, with various wings that seemed to stretch off into different directions. It seemed to her the house not only must have north, south, east, and west wings, but also some wings going in directions that hadn't been invented yet.
It was shockingly ornate, reminiscent of the grand country estates her parents had brought her to on her first trip to Europe years ago. This place was even more stately, each detail meant to impress and intimidate, yet it was oddly welcoming at the same time. With its scrolled railings, pretty balconies, and Gothic peaks, it reminded her of a fairy-tale castle from her girlish dreams. The sort of place in which she'd always wanted to live. Surrounded as it was by a sprawling English garden, it was too heavenly to be hell.
"I can't wait to see inside,” she said under her breath, realizing she meant every word. It was the sort of home she could spend weeks exploring.
"Soon enough,” Dionysus said quietly, the annoying smile still playing on his full lips.
Josie stared up at the massive building as they walked up the ostentatious, circular front steps. On each deep step was a marble statue. Or rather, a set of statues. All depicted in the nude. All of them frozen, as if caught in the midst of blatant sexual acts.
She gulped.
The first statue was of a man, his head thrown back in ecstasy, standing before a kneeling woman whose mouth was quite occupied. The next statue depicted a couple leaning up against the marble handrail, the man taking the woman from behind. Josie stared. The fingers digging into the woman's hips seemed so lifelike, as did the expression of euphoria on her face, it was as if the couple had been turned to stone while in the middle of the act.
Sex, Medusa-style.
With each step, the marble acts of copulation grew more lurid, more imaginative. Some involved groups so large she and Dionysus had to step around them.
As much as it made her nervous about their destination, she couldn't deny it was also turning her on. Her heart was beating more quickly now. There was a thin bead of sweat on her upper lip. She was squeezing Dionysus's hand so hard she worried she might break it. And she found she was eager to see each coming statue. Wanted to see all those marble limbs and various appendages, entwined forever.
They finally reached the top step, and she breathed a sigh of relief at being able to look away from the weird statuary. She turned to him. “What is this place?"
His brow was furrowed. He almost looked sorry for her. “Remember the illusion. Each level of hell is designed to make you want to stay there. To linger and forget. To ensnare and distract. This level, The Sinners, is no different. It appeals to the most base of appetites. Most people get caught here. Why do you think the house is so big? It grows with its new additions. Wings are added. Floors are created. It will make you want to stay, too, Josie."
"I've already tackled my worst fear,” she scoffed. “I think I can handle a strange house with perverted statues on its front steps."
He looked doubtful.
Without them having to knock, the door opened to them. It was opened from the inside by a smiling man. A nude man. Josie's jaw dropped. “Isn't that...?"
Dionysus frowned at her. “That guy from the Calvin Klein underwear ads? Yeah. At least, it's who you want to see. Really, Josie?” He sounded jealous. “Not an inspired choice, in my opinion. So obvious."
The naked underwear model held his hand out to her, and she almost took it. Or, at least, she would have if Dionysus hadn't grabbed her away.
"No touching,” he snarled. “Remember?"
She smiled weakly back at the model, feeling the need to unbutton her blouse. As soon as she could drag her eyes away from Antonio What's-His-Name's enormous penis, the first thing she noticed about the inside of the house was its smell. Or rather, its variety of fragrances. From one direction, she smelled orange blossom, from another, lilac. And there was a definite strain of coconut oil drifting in from one room. All her favorite fragrances, in a teasing, sensual fusion, making her feel oh-so-perfumed and sexy, as if she were wearing them all herself.
This time she did undo the top buttons on her blouse, popping the tiny pearls through the satiny fabric holes.
Dionysus noticed. He chewed on his divine lip, then he uttered an oath. He dragged her down the first hallway. “Come on. The exit to this place is always changing. Let's try not to get too distracted while we look for it."
"Can't we just leave the way we came in?” she asked. As if she'd want to leave.
"This is Hades. You can't ever leave the way you entered. It's just one of the rules.” He looked down a massive hallway lined with closed doors, breathed deeply, and picked one.
And what a one he picked!
Josie stared, at a loss for words. The room itself was beautiful, trimmed in gold filigree, filled with sumptuous, rococo furnishings. There were beveled mirrors and antique silver candlesticks on ornamented bureaus. On each petal pink wall, there were artworks depicting lovers in heated embraces. These things alone would have been enough to steal her breath away.
Even if the room hadn't been the location for a colossal orgy.
There were nude bodies everywhere! Writhing on the four-poster bed. Splayed atop various chaises. Littering each spare inch of marbled floor. Naked, twisting men and women. Men with men with women. Women with women. And a couple of combinations Josie had never even glimpsed in her brother Angelo's poorly hidden porn magazines.
And as she took them in, feeling much like a frozen statue herself, they slowly started to raise their heads to look toward her and Dionysus. Everywhere around them were tempting faces, wet lips parted in lascivious smiles. Drowsy, drunken eyes appraising her. Liking her.
Wanting her.
And God help her, she realized she wanted them!
One of the men near them, a beautiful brute of a man who was currently occupied in having his dick sucked by another man, caught her eye. He raised his hand and beckoned to her with a finger. His friend raised his head, smiled at her, and called to her with a curling tongue, mimicking the other man's finger. And Josie was very much worried that if left to her devices, she'd go to them and do dreadful, wonderful things.
The most startling thing happened then. As she watched the various lovers, stretching and rolling over one another, their faces began to morph. Women and men alike. All magically growing dark, wavy hair. Their eyes turnin
g brown, a penetrating mahogany. Noses straightening into the most noble nose she'd ever seen.
They were all becoming the image of Dionysus.
Even though he was still at her side, the sorcery of the place had put his face on everybody in the room. The one bending over that secretary desk, Dionysus. The one entangled with several other bodies in the corner, Dionysus. The one taking his turn fucking between three splayed sets of legs, Dionysus.
They were all him. And she'd never felt more turned on, seeing his face changed in the various stages of lust.
She felt a breeze against her front and looked down at her blouse. How had all the buttons come undone? She couldn't recall unbuttoning them herself!
And to think it would only take a few flicks of the wrist to discard all her clothing. The clothing that suddenly felt so scratchy and distasteful. As if she were wearing a dirty, old burlap sack.
"Come on, honey,” one man called to her in a voice like soft black velvet. His voice. “Take those things off. You don't need ‘em here."
She looked to the real Dionysus, feeling in need of some strength and guidance. However, he didn't look to be faring much better. His lips were pursed, and he was sweating. His gorgeous face was etched in pain, the pain of temptation. And he was gazing at her. As if she were the object of his lust. As if he very much needed to get her on that plush bed, the other bodies be damned!
Josie had the sinking feeling Dionysus might not be able to help her much in The Sinners. And then she remembered. Not only was he the god of wine, but his passion was orgies. She'd never been a fan of art, but all of a sudden, so many famous images sprang to mind. Paintings by the old masters portraying Dionysus, god of revels, entwined with his maenads. Dionysus, friend to satyrs, his cup of wine raised. Dionysus, original party boy. Wild man.
Sexual expert.
Geez, what could she possibly have to tempt him? Her, with her limited sexual experience. Sure, she'd been groped by a couple of horny boys in high school and had had one or two less than serious boyfriends since. Yes, she'd had sex. A few not so memorable times. Nothing earthshaking.
