Aphrodite

by Kaitlin Bevis

  “We’re not helpless, and I’m sure the others are fine. Just . . . busy. This might even be good.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Yeah, we can’t get out, but no one can get in, either. So long as the boat doesn’t sink, we’ll be fine.”

  The fact that Poseidon hadn’t shown up or broken his shield didn’t bode well for his control on the situation. Something big was happening. “Olympian Steele can break shields.”

  “I doubt anyone will break into this room when ‘Elise’ and ‘Tantalus’ are making themselves easy to get to, and a bunch of gods are wandering around on board,” Adonis said. “But even if they did, Poseidon would know, and he’d teleport here, and—” He broke off. “I don’t want to rely on Poseidon.”

  I laughed. “You and me both.”

  “So let’s not.” Adonis took a deep breath. “Look, we know what we can’t do. You can’t charm, but even with charm, you couldn’t break the hold on the passengers last time, right?”

  He had a point. Even if my powers were working, I’d never figured out how to charm someone already under another god’s influence. “I can’t heal you or me if anything—”

  “You wouldn’t be able to heal from Olympian Steele, anyway.” Adonis shrugged. “No big loss. What is Olympian Steele, anyway? I mean, I get it’s a type of metal, but beyond that? I don’t know much.” He kept moving as he spoke, shifting around, balancing on his heels, and running his hand across the shield, as if the barrier might vanish at any time and he wanted to be ready to rush to the lifeboats. His gestures were nervous, keyed-up. But he was trying to hide his fear.

  For me, I realized. He felt terrified. Who wouldn’t? But he was trying to stay calm for my sake.

  “They’re um, they’re made of adamantine, which almost everything divine and metallic is. Gates, thrones, Poseidon’s trident, you name it.” I dove head-first into the distraction of explaining obscure facts as much for myself as for him. Once I began to talk, the words kept coming, flung free from my tongue by nervous energy. “Steele refers to the type of a weapon. It’s, you know—” I outlined the stake-like shape in my hands then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Like a type of dagger. Or pick. Hephaestus came up with a pretty no-frills design because they were just prototypes. But he had a whole line planned. Chthonic Steele, Primordial Steele, Elemental Steele. ’Course, he never got that far, once he realized what he’d created.”

  Adonis leaned against the shield, his shirt brushing against my side. “So, if the materials don’t make it deadly, what does?”

  “They don’t channel power like most divine weapons. They have their own, and it kills us.” Feeling my way to the couch, I took advantage of the darkness to adjust my bikini. I moved forward, feeling along the floor for my luggage and found my bag caught against the couch. “Gods have one weakness. Our own powers. We can’t turn them against ourselves, instinct shuts that down, but we can’t heal from them either. When we pass on our powers, we pass on our weaknesses. That’s why our kids can kill us.”

  Adonis nodded. “Hence every myth ever.”

  I snorted. “Pretty much. Something in that metal resonated with the power it was infused with and that confuses our ability to heal. It’s as if we’ve been struck by ourselves, no matter who made the weapon. Only it spreads like—like venom. Specific details about how Hephaestus created the Steele didn’t pass down the bloodlines, for obvious reasons. All I know is, the way he forged the power into the metal circumvented the whole immortality thing. He took the power back into himself and destroyed them all to protect us.” I shuddered, remembering the writhing mass of Hephaestus’s face. “Really messed him up, too.”

  “But if he destroyed them all, where . . . ?” Adonis trailed off, waiting for explanation.

  “And that is the million-dollar question.” I smiled at him. “To say we were surprised when Steele popped back up is an understatement. Our best guess is that Zeus figured out how to make it.”

  Adonis tapped on the shield, filling the air with hollow-sounding thunks. “Okay, back to the problem at hand. Being powerless doesn’t make us helpless. People get by without powers every day.”

  “Against other people. The scales are kind of tipped here.” I felt his gaze on me, heavy and expectant, and I turned away, digging through my bag. “I’m not even strong enough to leave the room.”

  “You’re smart. You’d have to be to have survived Zeus. And what did you do to Poseidon? He’s afraid to look at you now. Your powers didn’t help with that, so what did?”

  “I don’t know. A willingness to do things that would never occur to anyone with any comprehension of right and wrong.” I sat on the couch, drawing my knees to my chest and told him all about the forced promises. “I’ve hurt people, Adonis. I’ve done terrible, terrible things. But before, I could always say I was under Zeus’s control. What I did to Poseidon was like Zeus-caliber bad . . . only, that was all me.”

  “To hell with Poseidon. If there’s any justice in the universe, bad things will never stop happening to that dickwad.”

  He didn’t get it. “But I still did it. And I’d do it again. Because that’s how I survive. I hurt people, and I get hurt, and I run away from fights I can’t win.”

  “Sometimes, being nice and doing the right thing is a luxury.” The couch dipped as Adonis sat beside me. “Sometimes, you have to use whatever advantage you’ve got.”

  “Funny, that sounds kind of like the exact opposite of everything you’ve ever said about me using my powers before now.”

  “Against people,” Adonis clarified. “People you already have the advantage over. I’m not saying you should starve or end up on the streets instead of using your charm. I get that you just kind of popped up in the world with nothing. You have to get by until you have something behind you. It’s the frivolous stuff you do that I can’t stand. What you did to Poseidon isn’t like that. You didn’t have a choice.”

  I shook my head. “Persephone wouldn’t have done it, even before she came into her powers. Ares didn’t do it when he had the chance. As far as I can tell, it didn’t even cross his mind.”

  “Persephone had two of the most powerful gods in creation protecting her until she came into her powers, and has the entire pantheon backing her now. Ares has had centuries to build up power, wealth, and anything else he’ll ever need. Don’t let them set your moral compass. They have the advantage. Of course, they don’t want you to feel good about taking that from them.”

  I frowned. “They’re not—”

  “They’re using you, Aphrodite. Poseidon treated you like a thing, something disposable, something he could use until you forced him to see you otherwise. Just like Zeus, just like the others. They’re all still using you. Why else would they send the newest god with the most limited powers to investigate, when they didn’t even know what they were up against?”

  “I volunteered,” I reminded him. “Charm is kind of my thing, so it made sense. The second this got bigger than I could handle, the rest of them stepped in. They’re all out there, Adonis.” I motioned toward the door. “Trying to get to the bottom of this while we’re shielded and safe.”

  Adonis drew in a deep breath. “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t feel bad about what you did to Poseidon. Look, if you were even half as selfish as you think you are, would you still be here? You could have left the second Persephone got here. Why didn’t you?”

  Because I can’t leave you. I chose another truth instead. “Because of all the terrible things I’ve done. I can’t—If I don’t do something to balance it—I—” I struggled for words. “I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not feel guilty for every horrible thing I’ve ever done. I want to be able to sleep without . . .” I waved my hand in the general direction of the bedroom, though he probably couldn’t see the gesture. “I want to do more than survive, even if it kills me. I wasn’t supposed to
have much of a life, Adonis, so I want to be able to feel good about what I do with mine.”

  Adonis touched my hand, then felt his way up to my shoulder to give me a comforting squeeze.

  I leaned into his touch. “I need you to promise me something.”

  “My promises don’t hold as much weight as yours.”

  “Then it means more when you keep them.”

  He hesitated for a second. “What do you need?”

  “If something gets in here, something that can charm, I need you to knock me out again.”

  Adonis shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Adonis, I’m not strong enough to resist charm right now. I don’t want to be used to hurt anyone.”

  “You also can’t heal,” he argued. “I know your perspective on this may be skewed, but being hit hard enough to lose consciousness is actually kind of a big deal.”

  “I don’t care! I’d rather die than feel like that again. You don’t understand. You’ve never been charmed, but it’s—”

  “I am not going to hurt you.” He grabbed my hands and met my eyes, starlight glittering in his. “I can’t. Don’t ask me to, please. But maybe there’s another way. Charm takes eye contact, right?” Adonis spread his hands to indicate the darkness. “You don’t have to make that easy.”

  Something in his voice made me tilt my head to study his silhouette. “What are you thinking?”

  He grinned, his teeth glittering in pinpricks of light. “Practice not getting charmed? We could play a game to pass the time until the others get back. If I can charm you, my point. If you block it, yours.” He shrugged. “First to seven points wins the game?”

  If only it were that easy. Unlike demigods, full-blooded deities could blanket an area with power. Eye contact just made charm easier and strengthened control. Still . . . I needed to do something, however useless. My heart still pounded in my chest from my adventure on the balcony, and every time a strong wave hit the boat, I froze in fear until I felt sure the boat wouldn’t tilt again. If I continued to just sit here, I’d go crazy. And given how tense Adonis sounded, he needed to think about something else, too. The guy didn’t even like being confined in an elevator. “What would I win?”

  Adonis grinned. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you. Victor’s choice?”

  I could find ways to make that fun. I pushed off the couch and moved away from him. “Ready . . . set . . .”

  “Go!” Adonis looked toward me. “Clap three times.”

  When I didn’t clap, he swore. “Too dark.” He stumbled over the edge of the couch, closing the gap between us. “Clap three times.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Two-nothing.” I squinted, trying to make out Adonis, but I couldn’t see his silhouette. Where did he—

  “Boo,” Adonis whispered in my ear, and I yelped in surprise, spinning to face him. “Clap three times.”

  I clapped.

  “One-two.” His teeth flashed in a triumphant grin. “Clap three—”

  I took off, tripping and scrambling over the furniture to get deeper into the suite. He’d have to find me to charm me. He managed to grab the collar of Ares’s jacket, but I slipped my arms free and kept on.

  “Three-one.” Picking my way through the room in complete darkness was a challenge, but judging by the crashing and thuds behind me, I was navigating the obstacles better than Adonis.

  There. I ducked into a nook under the staircase and tried to stay still and quiet.

  He stumbled around for a few seconds, then a piercing light swept the room. His phone blazed in his hand. Cheater. I closed my eyes when the light came close.

  White, molten light shone through my eyelids. “Clap three times.”

  I smiled. “Four to one.”

  He wasn’t touching me, but he stood so close, I could almost feel him. My back brushed against the wall. “Cornered. I think you just lost.”

  I opened my eyes. Faking right, I sprang left and stepped right into the suitcase I’d stashed under the stairs. “Crap!” The bag slid out from under me and I slammed sideways into Adonis, knocking him off balance and sending us both crashing on to the carpet with a thunk.

  “Ouch,” he groaned, rubbing his head. “Are you okay?”

  “Five-one.”

  His eyes glittered in challenge. “Clap—”

  I straddled him, covering his eyes with my hands. “Six.”

  He wrapped his hands around my upper arms and yanked me off balance. I yelped, finding myself nose to nose with him, my hands sliding on the carpet behind his head to stabilize myself. “Clap—”

  I touched my mouth to his, the motion featherlight. With a flick of my tongue, I opened his lips under mine. Adonis froze, hesitating for half a second, then kissed me back with ardor. His hands flattened on my back, pressing me against him. “Not fair,” he groaned.

  “Seven.” I laughed, reveling in the knowledge I’d put heat in his voice. My reality might be breaking down, my powers fading, my charm gone, but this? This, I could still control. And I needed control right now. I propped myself up on his chest, grinning at him. “Face it, you’ve lost.”

  “Funny, it doesn’t feel like it.” He leaned up, his mouth capturing mine. His fingers knotted in my hair, and he eased back down to the ground, taking me with him.

  We breathed each other in as the kiss deepened. His mouth moved against mine. When his hands slid down my waist, my heart pounded in my chest. His lips on mine felt like a promise I wanted to keep with a terrifying intensity. Without breaking the kiss, I unbuttoned his shirt and allowed him to sit up enough for me to work it down his arms before planting a hand to his bare chest and pushing him back down.

  In the darkness, we were little more than shadows, but our hands explored what we couldn’t see. I gasped when his hands slipped beneath my bikini top. “Gods,” I groaned, burying my head in his shoulder.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Adonis pulled away, and propped himself up on one arm. “Just . . .” He grabbed his phone, and light flashed in my eyes, searing my vision. I jerked away, holding up my hands to ward off the glow. “Sorry.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me back down to him. “I’m sorry, I just, I had to make sure you weren’t charmed. I had to—”

  He stopped when my mouth covered his, his hands rising to cup my face with a tenderness that made my head spin in a whirlwind of emotions. This was more, so much more than fear, or regret, or pain. More than a pleasant physical distraction, more than a way to forget.

  “Aphrodite . . . wait,” Adonis’s voice sounded hoarse, but he ignored his own advice, tangling our legs as his lips found mine again and again and again. Each kiss felt deeper, harder, and more desperate. His finger deftly untied the knots holding my bikini together. “I should—”

  He sucked in a breath when I slid my hand down the waistband of his jeans. If he told me he didn’t want me because I was a god or any other reason, I’d break. I’d do anything, be anything or anyone he wanted if it meant I wouldn’t lose the way I felt right now. “Please,” I whispered.

  He put his hands on my hips and yanked me to him with a groan. I poured all my feelings into the kiss. We were pressed together so tight, I almost couldn’t tell where I stopped and he began, but that wasn’t close enough. Fabric gave way to firm flesh and heavy breathing. And this time, there were no interruptions.

  Chapter XXVIII

  AT SOME POINT in the night, we made it upstairs to the actual bed. And sometime even later, I let Adonis fall asleep. Sleep had to be the worst weakness we’d given mortals. Their lives were so short already—it seemed a tragedy to waste a third of it slumbering.

  I snuck downstairs, drained a bottle of water, and slid back into the bed without disturbing him. He shifted, wrapping his arm around me. We lay with our legs tangled together, bodies pressed close in a way
that shouldn’t have felt comfortable, but somehow did. Staring up at the ceiling, I smiled, surprised by how happy I felt. Lying in his arms, with nothing to distract me from the rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat, and the way his body felt warm against mine, was nice.

  As the minutes turned to hours, euphoria faded in favor of more pressing needs. The symptoms started small; minor aches and pains, a small bout of dizziness, some cold sweats, and a thirst that seemed unquenchable. But by the time I made my third trip downstairs by the shaky light of Adonis’s cell phone for yet another bottle of water, my entire body shook with fatigue.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make myself climb those stairs. Trembling, I opened the water bottle and took a sip, determined to relieve my Sahara-dry throat. That’s a bit better.

  My stomach twisted, and a wave of dizziness slammed into me. I stumbled, leaning against the wall and gasping as I waited for the awful feeling to pass. Ares’s jacket, I remembered. I wasn’t sure if a token from my home realm would help, but at this point, I’d try anything.

  What was wrong with me? Last night, my symptoms had felt dull. Noticeable, but not debilitating. Definitely not debilitating, I thought, remembering all my fun with Adonis. No, this level of pain felt new. Whatever was wrong with me was getting worse.

  I shuffled through the dark room at a slow, yet painful pace. My lips pressed together as a moan escaped my throat. Every muscle, every joint, every fiber of my being cried out in agony. Somewhere above me, Adonis slept on, unaware, and that pissed me off to no end. I wasn’t sure why I felt angry, much less why I didn’t call out for him. I guess logic and unendurable agony weren’t great bedfellows.

  “Gods,” I gasped, leaning against the wall, fumbling with the kind of limp heaviness associated with the very ill, the drunk, or the undead. I sank to the floor and crawled instead. My too-hot skin cracked with each stretch and bend, as if each layer was being tanned, shrunk, then stretched over my bones. Cool leather brushed against my fingertips and I felt an iota of relief. I pulled the jacket to me, not even bothering to crawl the two extra feet to the couch.