Page 67 of Invoking Ruin

Chapter sixteen

Dionysus

True to her word—for once— Atê goes straight to the pool to soak. Unlike last time, my presence isn’t welcome. There’s no salacious sway of her hips, no beckoning looks thrown over her shoulder. Instead, she sits on the bench along the edge, her knees drawn up to her chest, staring out at the sparkling, clear water like it has all the answers, if she only looks long enough.

I wish her luck with that. Nothing has offered me any answers lately, least of all her.

I find my trousers and drag them back on. I should wash again as well, but it’s hardly the first time I’ve walked around with release drying on my cock, and something about Atê’s scent all over my skin pleases me.

The pocket with Nemesis’ medallion feels heavier than it should, as though reminding me of how to end this little game between us.

All I need to do is summon the goddess, and Atê will have no escape.

It will all be over then. She’ll be in Tartarus, and I…

I don’t know what I’ll be.

The medallion goes untouched in my pocket.

No, whatever is going to happen, I’ll get my fill of fun first. Get my fill of her. Despite what Nemesis seems to think, there’s no rush to wrap things up. I have both the goddess and the knife in my sight, and neither are going anywhere.

Atê doesn’t want to use the knife—even Nemesis had been relatively sure of that. She’s merely been holding onto it for insurance. Selfish, but not self-destructive.

Now, she has what she’s always wanted. The cheat, thief and liar has prevailed. Somehow, I’m less discomforted by that than I should be. I’ve been her biggest target, and for years, she tried to keep me weak and vulnerable.

Still, there’s a small part of me that’s more impressed than pissed.

I kept you where you were happiest.

Fuck her, though. Atê knows nothing of my happiness. She’s only ever cared about her own desires, her own needs. Mine never factored in.

But she’d had lines she refused to cross, an annoying voice reminds me. I growl to myself.

Those lines were meant for her own self-preservation.

I take another walk around the pavilion, unable to keep still. So many trinkets, baubles, weapons. She could extort everyone from Olympus to the Underworld with her collection.

What wouldn’t they do to get these items back?

None of it is mine, at least. No trinket. No thyrsus pole.

I pause, standing in front of the table in the center once more. The rift knife still sits under the undyed cloth, but it only holds my attention for a second before I turn back to the lock of hair under the display glass.

That one is mine, but it’s not a powerful relic like the rest of her collection. Thousands of years, she’s kept my hair. It should disturb me, to be reminded of her obsession, but the care she’s taken with the hair brings me up short. Every strand still shines, tied with a purple ribbon to make sure nothing comes loose.

Treasured.

I’ve long known some of what Atê feels for me. I even courted the danger of it for a while, inviting her to couple with me under the moon. The taste of opium smoke mixing with her skin still lingers in my memory.

I liked it.

Then she killed Ampelos.

The wound stings, but she wasn’t wrong, when I brought it up before. It’s an old wound. One Hera ordered, even if Atê was her instrument. The goddess hated me. Wanted to spoil every moment of pleasure she could.

Using Atê, who pined for me jealously, who was a goddess I wanted, would have amused her.

I knew I couldn’t have Ampelos forever. Mortality always comes with an end date. We all know that, but we love them anyway, myself perhaps more than others. Mortals burn hot and fast, urged on by knowledge of their own inevitable death. They try harder, fail sharper, fly to greater heights.

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