Page 42 of A Touch of Chaos

He was looking for anyone he recognized, but not because he wanted to chat—it wasn’t exactly a friendly crowd. It was more a matter of assessing competition for the upcoming auction. While those in attendance were making a show of observing artistic masterpieces, it was not the art up for sale tonight—it was women and young men.

Dionysus had come in search of Medusa, a gorgon who had the power to turn men to stone. She had last been seen on the shore of the Aegean. As he’d feared, Poseidon had found her, and once he’d had his way with her, he claimed to have left her alone.

“If I had known the value of her beautiful head, I’d havecut it off where she lay,” he’d said, informing Dionysus that she could only turn men to stone once her head was separated from her body. It was a cruel revelation, and it left Dionysus uncertain as to whether it was best to find her at all. But if it wasn’t him, it would be someone else who valued her use over her life. Even if he did not manage to find her, he could at least extricate a few sex-trafficked victims and make note of the rest.

Eventually, the maenads would rescue them all—at least that was the goal. He hesitated to call it a plan, because he’d done this enough to understand that plans never went smoothly. Sometimes they were too late.

His chest tightened.

One day, he hoped they could put an end to this vicious cycle of abuse.

He made his way into the adjoining room, which, while more spacious, was far more crowded, likely because it featured mostly erotic art. Dionysus scanned the room, his eyes passing over portraits of Aphrodite in the hands of mortal lovers and glades full of naked nymphs, until he caught a glimpse of someone he recognized, though she was the last person he’d expected to find here, and that was because she shouldn’t have been here at all.

Detective Ariadne Alexiou stood across from him, and he could not help the eruption of heat that started in his groin. His heart pumped harder, and blood rushed to every limb, making him very, very aware of the heaviness between his legs.

Motherfucker, he thought.

She was supposed to be at his club, Bakkheia, training with the maenads, yet she was here, wearing an electric blue dress that only drew more attention to her beauty.He couldn’t help thinking about how she had wrapped those long legs around his waist when he’d fucked her against a cave wall on the island of Thrinacia or how he’d twisted his fingers into that thick, dark hair just to gain better access to her mouth. She had tasted so sweet, and she’d felt so good around him.

Fuck, he ached for her.

She had yet to notice him, but as he took a step in her direction, a man handed her a glass of champagne.

What the actual fuck?

“Ari,” Dionysus said as he approached. He felt almost breathless, but he knew that was his frustration.

She was in the middle of taking a drink when she spit it back into the glass, her eyes wide with surprise. Clearly she had not expected him to be here either.

“Dionysus,” she said. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“You know Lord Dionysus?” the man beside her asked.

Knowwas an understatement.

“Yes,” she said. “Casually.”

“Casually,” Dionysus repeated. “Sure.”

Her gaze seared his skin. He knew what she was saying without speaking.

Don’t fuck this up for me.

He pointed to the two of them. “So what’sthis?”

The man, who was young with a swath of blond hair, hesitated and stuck out his hand. “Leander Onasis,” he said.

Dionysus looked at his hand and then met his gaze. “I didn’t ask who you were,” he said.

The mortal blushed and dropped his arm. He started to speak, but Ariadne interrupted.

“Leander,” she said and offered an apologetic smile. “Would you give us a minute?”

He hesitated, glancing at Dionysus. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll, uh, see you in the room?”

“Sooner,” she said.

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