Page 47 of Loved By Aphrodite

He raked his hand through his hair, and his eyes landed on something—a painting hanging on the wall. He paused, his breath catching. It was of him and Eros, the two of them hunting together in what looked like Thessaly. He recognized the moment it depicted instantly. They’d never posed for it, but the details were unmistakable. The way he held his bow, the fierce determination in Eros’s expression, the unspoken bond between them as they moved in perfect synchronization.

It stirred a deep ache within him, pride and sorrow welling up inside him. Those were simpler times, weren’t they? Back before everything grew so complicated. Before layers of mistrust and misunderstandings drove them apart.

Am I really going to give up so easily?he thought.I deserve better than this. She deserves better than this.

He wasn’t a man who gave up easily, not in his work, not in anything he truly cared about. He wasn’t going to start now.

He squared his shoulders and strode back into the sanctuary. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

Clearing his throat, he announced his presence.

Aphrodite and the man turned, startled. Aphrodite stepped back quickly, her expression a mix of surprise and something he couldn’t quite read. “Hephaestus?”

The young man smiled, his demeanor relaxed and friendly. “Hephaestus? Good to meet you. I’m Adonis,” he said, stepping forward to extend a hand.

Hephaestus hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the handshake. Adonis’s grip was firm but unthreatening, his confidence so effortless it was almost disarming.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Adonis said with a grin. Then, glancing at Aphrodite, he added, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving Hephaestus and Aphrodite alone.

They stood there in silence, and Hephaestus looked at her. She looked every bit the goddess she was—untouchable, ethereal, and heartbreakingly beautiful—but her hands fidgeted at her sides before she crossed her arms, her brow furrowing slightly. She looked regal even in her discomfort, her head held high despite the tension in the room.

He stepped closer, the solid weight of his boots echoing faintly against the polished wood floor. “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “is now a good time to talk?”

His voice carried the gravity of everything left unsaid, and Aphrodite, for once, seemed unsure of how to respond.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she squared her shoulders. “I’m going to tell the council it was my fault—the love magic going out of control is on me.”

His eyes stayed on her, his jaw tensing as he willed himself to temper his frustration. She was beautiful, even in her defiance, but her stubbornness was as maddening as ever. “We should talk about this,” he repeated, his voice calm but firm.

“No, I don’t think so,” she retorted sharply.

“But you can talk to Adonis about it,” he grumbled under his breath.

“What did you say?” she snapped, her eyes blazing.

“You heard me,” he folded his arms, meeting her glare head-on.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I can talk to him,” she hissed, tossing her head in defiance before brushing past him toward the doorway.

He turned slightly as she moved. “Aphrodite.”

The word hung in the air, and she froze in front of him. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then, slowly, she looked up at him, her eyes clouded with conflict. “You can’t expect me to be okay with letting others take the fall for what’s my responsibility. You know I can’t do that.”

He reached out, his hand hovering near her arm as if to stop her, but she stepped away, the distance between them widening with each heartbeat. He was left standing alone, her scent and the tension lingering behind.

He clenched his fists, willing himself to stay calm. He took a few deep breaths, his mind racing as he considered his nextmove. It was clear he needed a different approach. Maybe, he thought grimly, he’d have to rile her up to get through to her. Bracing himself for whatever might come, he followed her into the living room.

She stood by the window, her arms crossed, staring out into the cityscape. Her posture was tense, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that he couldn’t ignore.

“So,” he began, his voice light but pointed, “you can trust Adonis enough to cry on his shoulder, but you can’t talk to me? Interesting.”

She didn’t whip around or snap at him as he expected. Instead, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “He’s a friend,” she said softly. “We used to be lovers, but now there’s none of that between us. We’re good friends, Hephaestus. He doesn’t even know that I’m a goddess.”

Her words were calm but heavy with emotion. She finally turned to face him, and the raw hurt in her eyes struck him like a blow. Without thinking, he crossed the room in three strides and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t resist, melting into his embrace as silent tears wet his shoulder.

He held her tighter, resting his chin lightly on her head. “You know,” he murmured, “we’ve known each other for so long. We have secrets only the two of us share, but we still can’t figure out how to talk to each other.”

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