Page 58 of Heroines of Olympus

Alec shakes his head and says, “No, not talking about her would be a greater disservice to her. The world deserves to know how smart she is, how brave and beautiful.”

“I know you are in love with her. We will get her back.” Medusa’s heart shatters in sympathy for him. Alec has known Hestia longer than Medusa has known Psyche and Medusa will already burn the world down if anyone dares to hurt Psyche.

Emotion fills Alec’s voice. “Her world is books, and I always think about how the story of us would look if it was written in one. I often lie in bed and flip through the pages of it in my mind. I imagined sweeping gestures where I am her hero and sweep her off of her feet. I’m worrying that it will be more of a tragedy.”

The temple looms before them and Medusa looks up at the grand columns that adorn the front of the building. The architecture of the temples is something Medusa used to love and could easily get lost just looking at the carvings along their facades. Now when she looks at it, it is a pretty face on something monstrous. Will Medusa ever be able to look at a temple in awe again, knowing they are filled with horrors?

Medusa’s legs feel like jelly when they reach the top of the temple steps. She laces her fingers together as she clasps her hands in front of her. Her pulse rises and her chest heaves with every step forward through the threshold.

35

APHRODITE

The sheer, glittery fabric of her auction gown is rough against Aphrodite’s skin and she fidgets inconspicuously, counting down the minutes until she can change her dress for the gala. Technically, everything is covered, but the dress is so transparent Aphrodite might as well just have gems glued onto her body instead.

She likes to present a tantalizing package during these auctions. Sex sells, and that is exactly what Aphrodite wants on the minds of the buyers as they bid on the nymphs.

The last lot comes to a close, and the curtain is drawn over the stage.

“No, please!” A small voice cries out. The Acolyte handling the nymph grabs a livestock prod- enchanted with Zeus’s magic- zaps the nymph, and she falls limp on the floor.

The buyers depart immediately, taking their purchases with them while the guests who ended the auction empty-handed start mingling until the additional visitors arrive for the gala portion of the evening.

Aphrodite steps into the small dressing room behind the stage, stripping off the scratchy dress.

Her blush pink satin dress is hanging on the rack and she reaches for it gratefully. The cool fabric is soothing on her irritated skin as it slides over her body. Looking in the mirror, Aphrodite admires the way the fabric gathers at her waist and under her breasts. The slit is dangerously high, coming up to her hip, creating the illusion of a long frame, despite her shorter stature.

Kicking off her heels in favor of bare feet, the plush carpet feels soft beneath her toes. Aphrodite has several reasons for the odd choice of footwear. In her opinion, it presents a more intimate appearance, as if she just rolled out of someone’s bed. Her role and image are part of a carefully crafted game that Aphrodite adores. The high she gets when every person in the room wants to bed her is almost addicting.

The image in the mirror is hollow. Nothing about Aphrodite’s appearance has changed, but looking at herself feels unrecognizable from when Andromeda was alive. Her face seems sharper at the edges, to match her heart. She straightens the rose gold mask covering her face, the intricate metal filigree similar to her lock box, vines and thorns weaving into an intricate pattern designed to lure someone in for a closer look and then leave them wounded.

Leaving the dressing room, her bare feet meet the cold stone tile of the hallway that connects the stage, dressing rooms, and ballroom. Feet are sore from her high heels, Aphrodite soaks up the soothing relief that comes from the cool floor, one of the other reasons to go without shoes.

The sound of the string quartet playing their first piece meets her in the hallway outside the ballroom, announcing the start of their decoy event.

Aphrodite mingles through the small sea of masks, cloaks, and dresses of varying degrees of decency. Some people come dressed demurely despite the odds being favorable that their body will end up on full display while being fucked by at least two people, their screams echoing throughout the ballroom for anyone to hear. Everyone shines and sparkles and it is easy to get swept away in the general splendor of these events.

Some people like to claim it is Aphrodite’s Ambrosia wine that gets everyone particularly riled up. Others swear that something came over them and they cannot remember what happened and therefore are not to blame for their actions.

The truth is, being herenaturally loosens their inhibitions. This is where they come to be free to express themselves sexually, where no one will judge them for what makes them orgasm.

Aphrodite rolls her eyes, thinking about how timid the general society is as a whole. Repressed sexual desires are one of the fastest ways to create a bunch of angry, miserable people.

The ballroom doors open and the new guests file in, greeting people as they work the crowd. The masks free them even further, allowing the liberty of anonymity to fuel their passions.

Aphrodite preens under the attention of the eyes glued to her body as she makes her rounds, eager to see who will share her bed tonight. She grabs a full wineglass off the tray of a passing server and drinks it all, enjoying the rush if the light buzz as she closes her eyes and lets it go to her head.

Tonight, Aphrodite is going to have fun. The auction is over, and those responsibilities are complete. She is going to drink, dance, laugh, and fuck. Tomorrow, her new toy might even be mortal enough to play with.

As Aphrodite is leaving the ballroom for some fresh air, a flash of gold catches her eye. Her breath stops at the source. The gilded woman with a golden-winged mask makes Aphrodite’s mouth go dry, shining like sunshine itself. Her necklace shines like a thousand stars and flickers like a flame. Aphrodite’s heart beats harder in recognition. Can it beher?

36

MEDUSA

The grand foyer of the temple rises high above Medusa’s head as she takes in the extravagance. meticulously arranged tiles cover the floor in a collage of images, all depicting lovers mid-passion. Elaborate moldings adorn the walls and the ceiling has been painted with a mural that is like the floor except instead of individual couples, it portrays a group sex scene.

Candles are lit all along the sides of the walkways, in the sconces, casting the entire area in a soft, romantic glow, creating an atmosphere that makes one long to be between the sheets with a lover. Everything about this place screams seduction with the heady scent of the flowers filling their senses.

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