Page 14 of Where Darkness Bloomed
She turned away, face burning. “They will reside on Olympus?” she asked, more abruptly than she intended.
Hermes gave a throaty chuckle. His eyes glinted as he swirled his goblet lazily. “For tonight, certainly,” he said. “Heracles will have rather pressing, immediate plans for his bride. I do hope dear Hebe is well rested.”
Thalia choked on her wine. Heat flared in Kore’s cheeks.
Aglaia, unbothered, simply rolled her eyes. She glanced once more toward the high table. Her gaze found Hephaestus again, softening into something thoughtful. Then, with a graceful turn, she looped her arm through Euphrosyne’s, and the sisters melted into the crowd, their laughter trailing like music.
Hermes lingered.
His gaze flicked between Kore and Thalia, bright and too knowing. When he smiled, it was a slow, wicked grin. “Every young goddess should taste the delights of marriage,” he drawled, each word heavy with insinuation. “Lest you are tempted to tread the path of Artemis or Athena—chaste, eternal maidens. Tragic.”
He gave an exaggerated shudder. “A life without passion, without pleasure. Unthinkable.”
Neither of them responded, but the silence only amused him further.
“But there is no better tutor in such matters,” he added, almost idly, “than Eros himself.”
At once, Kore’s stomach knotted.
“Lord Hermes,no,” Thalia hissed sharply. “Do not summon—”
“Summon what, my lady?”
The interruption was smooth, spoken in a voice like velvet, rich and dangerous.
Thalia’s protest died on her lips. Her mouth snapped shut.
From the darkness above, a figure descended with wings of gold unfurling like the gleaming edge of daybreak. Eros hovered in silence over their heads, gazing down with eyes of burning gold. A gaze that offered not warmth, but something wilder, more consuming.
At his back, a quiver of golden arrows gleamed ominously. A chill skittered over Kore’s skin.
Unruffled, Hermes wiped a drip of nectar from his chin, his crooked grin widening. “These young goddesses,” he began innocently, “were merely curious about the... pleasures of marriage, of passion.”
He kicked off the ground, winged sandals flashing as he drifted into the air. “I leave them in your very capable hands.”
Then he vanished in a flash of silver, laughter echoing behind him, bright and careless.
Eros said nothing at first. His gaze slid slowly between Kore and Thalia, measuring and unreadable. Then he smiled, slow and predatory.
“Tell me,” he purred, “what would maiden goddesses care to know of passion?”
The silence that followed was heavy, dense as thunderclouds. The air itself seemed to shrink, growing tight.
Thalia recovered first, but her voice was strained as she replied, “Hermes misspoke.”
“Did he?” Eros asked softly, his gaze fixing on Kore.
The gold fire in his eyes deepened, burning too bright, too harsh. Like a flame pressed too close to skin. With a single beat of his wings, he dropped soundlessly to the grass behind her.
The air barely stirred before his warmth spilled against her back. Too close, too deliberate.
“Curious, are you?” he murmured, low and decadent, each word dripping like warm honey. “But words, sweet goddess, are such hollow things.” He leaned in, his breath grazing the curve of her ear. “Passion,” he whispered, “is not simply spoken of.”
A pause. The air coiled tighter around her.
“It must be seen,” he breathed. “And felt.” His voice dipped lower, darker. “Tasted.”
Silence clung to the air, breathless and waiting.
