Page 31 of Loved By Aphrodite

She had turned away from the tender moment, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t name. That was when she noticed Zeus standing a few steps away, his piercing gaze fixed on her. He tilted his head slightly, motioning for her to come closer. She hesitated, then smoothed her toga and approached him.

“Aphrodite,” Zeus began, “I still need your help.”

Her stomach twisted. “What now?” she asked warily.

“The mortal princess in Crete. She’s so beautiful, young, perfect for me. But she’s proving…resistant to my charms.”

She blinked, her lips parting in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking? You will ensure she feels drawn to me. A nudge, a suggestion—whatever you need to do to get her in line.”

She balked, crossing her arms. “I’m the goddess of love, Zeus, not a matchmaker for your conquests. This isn’t what I do.”

“You’ll do it,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

Aphrodite’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding in frustration. She hated this, hated being complicit in Zeus’s endless trail of broken hearts. She hoped Hera wouldn’t find out about her part in this one. But she knew better than to defy him outright. Still, if she had to do this, she was going to demand something in return.

“Fine,” she said, her voice cold. “But I want something, too.”

His brow arched in surprise. “You? Asking me for a favor? That’s rare. What do you want?”

“A divorce,” she said firmly. “From Hephaestus. Grant it, no strings attached.”

Zeus barely blinked. “Done.”

The casual dismissal made her chest ache. He didn’t even hesitate. But as she turned away, she told herself it was for the best. She had hoped—fervently, desperately—that Hephaestus would find someone he truly loved, someone who wasn’t tied to him by Zeus’s decree.

When she returned to Hephaestus and Eros, the boy was laughing, his nerves forgotten under Hephaestus’s steady presence. She plastered on a smile, pretending she hadn’t just shattered what little thread of connection they still shared.

She’d told herself it was for him. But even now, the memory left her hollow.

“What are we looking for?” Hephaestus’s voice called from the other room bringing her back to the present.

“Anything that doesn’t belong,” she replied. Whatever answers this place held, they wouldn’t find them by dwelling on the past.

Aphrodite decided to go outside, but when she reached for the door, it wouldn’t budge. She frowned, pulling harder. Still nothing. “What the…”

She tried using her magic, willing the knob to turn. A golden glow spread over her hand and the door, but it remained stubbornly closed. Her frustration grew, and with a snap of her fingers, she unleashed a blast of energy meant to force the door open.

Instead, the explosion sent her flying backward, and she landed unceremoniously on her ass across the room. The impact jarred her, leaving her momentarily dazed.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the house, and Hephaestus appeared, his face etched with worry. “Aphrodite!” he exclaimed, rushing to her side. He knelt before her, his hands moving over her shoulders and arms as he frantically checked for injuries.

She blinked at him. “I’m okay,” she said finally, her voice soft. “Really, I’m fine.”

He released a shaky breath, his forehead creasing. “What happened?” he asked, his hands gripped her arms.

She sat up straighter, mentally brushing off the remnants of her embarrassment. “The door,” she said, gesturing toward it with a sigh. “It wouldn’t open, so I…tried to persuade it.”

“By blasting it?” he asked, one eyebrow arching in that infuriating way of his.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she replied, crossing her arms defensively.

They stayed like that for a beat too long, his hands lingering on her arms, his eyes searching hers as if needing confirmation. Then she caught a whiff of his cologne—earthy and warm, with a faint metallic edge. It tugged at something deep within her.

Her gaze dipped to his lips before she caught herself, and she quickly straightened, clearing her throat. “If you’re not going to help me up, then let go of me.”

He flushed, his ears turning a telltale shade of red. “Right. Sorry,” he muttered. He stood and pulled her up with him. But instead of stepping back, they found themselves chest to chest, her hands pressed lightly on his shoulders, and his arms around her.

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