Page 22 of Prometheus' Priestess

“It’s not what you think,” she admonished coyly.

“I think you have the look of a woman intent on getting herway.”

Aphrodite laughed. “Perhaps youdoknow me better than Ithought.”

It had taken Hermes some cajoling on his part to get her into bed the first time, though he had soon proved his skill. Memories of how playful they were together spilled into her mind and Aphrodite found herself wanting to re-experience him.

As if reading her thoughts, Hermes took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, his fingertips gently skimming the water, creating ripples that traced all the way back to Aphrodite’sbreasts.

Butterflies erupted into symphony and Aphrodite decided that perhaps a release was exactly what she needed before sending a message to Prometheus. Perhaps if she were in a less frustrated mood, he’d be more receptive to her message, shereasoned.

“Would you like to join me first?” she asked the god, who watched her with dark caramel eyes flecked with gold.

“I thought you’d neverask.”

Prometheus was not quite so forthcoming.

“What is it that you want, Aphrodite?” he growled, prowling around the fountain in the courtyard outside her rooms, where she had requested an audience from him. The only reason he had agreed to the meet was to check on the priestess’ wellbeing. The message from Hermes hadn’t mentioned exactly what was wrong, only that something was, which had made the gavel in Prometheus’ gut drop like stone.

“There’s no need to be a bad-tempered lion with me,” Aphrodite admonished from her reclined position on a bench in the sun, droplets of water trickling from her still-wet hair onto the courtyard below in a steadydrip, drip, drip.

“I have every reason, in case you had forgotten.”

Aphrodite sat up and looked at him with rounded eyes that seemed to hold genuine sincerity. “And I am well overdue in my apology for that.”

That was the thing about fickle Aphrodite, sometimes she had the ability to melt even the strongest defences. But Prometheus’ motto prevailed.

“Actions have consequences. You knew what you were doing.”

“I did not know how far it would stretch,” Aphrodite countered in a melodic, measured tone.

It had been an eon ago since Prometheus, strong rugged Prometheus, had turned down Aphrodite’s advances, long before the humans had been created. At the time, she had been so infuriated with him that when he’d asked for help making the human dolls seem less ... pathetic, she’d simply taken the opportunity he’d given her. She’d instructed him to place a kiss on each of their lips after Athena had given them the breath of life, so that they may experience the love and care their maker had in making them.

“I only omitted one tiny detail,” she continued.

The kiss hadn’t only given humans the love from their maker and unlocked all the emotions within them. It had also given the maker unconditional love for his creations.

“It was just supposed to be a harmless prank. I thought your foresight would have picked it up before anything came of it. It was petty of me. Can you see cause to forgiveme?”

Prometheus stared hard at supposedly the most desirable woman in the world. Her harmless prank had multiplied and amplified as the humans reproduced. For every human mother that felt unconditional love for her child, Prometheus felt it too … and now there were millions of them.

He shook his head. Aphrodite had been clever. She hadn’t asked for forgiveness. She had appealed to the logic in him that he so often used as his moral compass. He could find cause. They both knew it. But, morals or not, when it came to his hatred for Aphrodite, he was not abovelying.

“My heart is too hardened to consider forgiveness for you. No.”

Aphrodite pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing.

“Very well. The least you can do is help me protect thepriestess.”

“That is why I agreed to meet,” he replied with something not quite contempt but not quite sarcasm laced into his tone.

And so Aphrodite told him what she had learnt of Amara’s time on Earth as she picked at the rose bush behind the bench she sat on, pricking her thumb against the thorns as she did so. Ichor ran down her thumb and curled around her wrist as she watched it. Prometheus watched her elegant movements too, her words causing his jaw to clench. The ichor, slower than a human’s blood, stopped fairly quickly, giving the appearance of a silvery bangle wrapped around Aphrodite’s delicate wrist.

“Funny how the humans associate blood with pain. Don’t you thinkso?”

“Not really,” Prometheus said, thinking of all the bloodshed over theyears.

“Yet it is not the blood that causes the pain,” Aphrodite reasoned.

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