Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

27. Aphrodite

27

APHRODITE

A s she walks through the room, lighting candles and sprinkling flower petals, Aphrodite’s mind is not on the time she is about to spend with Icarus, but instead on Circe and her cursed riddles.

She hates how distracted she has been and regrets neglecting Icarus. Yet those regrets do nothing to keep Aphrodite’s mind from wandering there anyway.

Why did it have to happen this way? After searching for Icarus for centuries, as soon as they are reunited, the world tilts off its axis? It isn’t fair. Aphrodite’s heart begs her, pleads with her, to focus on her rekindled love, but every part of her soul screams that this is bigger than the two of them.

She and Icarus have found each other in every single one of her lifetimes, so a slight distraction is harmless in the grand scheme of things. Right?

The door makes the faintest of clicks behind Aphrodite as Icarus slips inside the room. Forcing herself to be in the moment with her lover, Aphrodite smiles and turns to greet Icarus. Her smile falls when she sees the look on Icarus’s face. Her lively, bright features are downcast, and her fiery amber eyes are distant.

Crossing the room, Aphrodite cups Icarus’s face, looking deeply into her eyes before pulling her into a tight embrace. “Are you alright?”

“I—no. I don’t want to talk about it.” The fog in her eyes lifts slightly, and Icarus presses her forehead to Aphrodite’s. “Remind me that I’m alive.”

Aphrodite hesitates. Icarus needs to talk about whatever is going on, but if she requires a few moments of oblivion first, that is something she will happily provide her.

As her slender fingers deftly undo the leather straps of Icarus’s armor, Aphrodite gently walks Icarus to the bed. The series of clanking as each piece of armor drops to the floor is loud, but neither of them care.

Wearing only the tunic and breeches that go beneath her armor, Icarus sits on the edge of the bed and Aphrodite leans into her space, kissing her softly.

All of her previous distractions have dissipated from her mind. Seeing Icarus in this state is a gut punch she was not expecting. The goddess’s touch is soft as she reaches for the hem of Icarus’s tunic, raising it over her head. Aphrodite kisses her again, sliding an arm around her waist and scooting her further up onto the bed.

Lightly gripping Icarus’s chin, Aphrodite looks her in the eye and asks, “Are you sure you want to do this right now, my love?”

Icarus nods, and her silky voice is low when she adds, “Please.”

Aphrodite knows Icarus wants to do this. Knows exactly what she needs. The knowledge is second nature, her Fates-given instincts.

Everyone’s thoughts about sex are so basic, assuming an orgasm—however achieved— is the primary purpose of sex. But the goddess knows it is so much more than that. The right sex can be freeing, healing, transformative.

It can be the one thing someone needs to move past something, it can allow them to see the beauty in themselves, and it can connect people on a spiritual level. Sex has so many different speeds, rhythms, and purposes.

Right now, its purpose is to bring Aphrodite’s lover to oblivion so she can forget the world around them.

She grips Icarus’s hips and flips her over onto her stomach. Icarus startles at the sudden movement but complies. Reaching up to the corners of the mattress, she grabs the delicate leather straps and fastens them around Icarus’s wrists.

Icarus groans as she kisses her neck and then drags her teeth along her spine. Fingers pressing into the golden skin of Icarus’s hips, she lifts them until Icarus is on her knees and elbows. Aphrodite does not hesitate before plunging her face into Icarus’s center from behind, both of them moaning when her tongue slides over her lover’s opening. It only takes a moment before Icarus is dripping wet, hips rocking as she silently pleads for more.

Reaching over into the bedside table, Aphrodite pulls out a harness and phallus, setting another one on the bed beside them. Once the straps are secure, she positions herself before Icarus’s center and teases her lover’s opening with the tip of the phallus, enjoying the whimpers leaving Icarus’s slips in soft cresting waves.

Hands still gripping Icarus’s hips, Aphrodite takes one of them and runs her nails along the same path her teeth previously ventured down her spine, only applying enough pressure to make Icarus arch her back and cry out.

Icarus’s core is molten when she dips her fingers inside, slicking the phallus with Icarus’s wetness. She presses into her, inch by inch, allowing Icarus to open for her and stretch to meet the larger phallus that Aphrodite selected. Once inside Icarus to the hilt, Aphrodite rocks her hips slowly at first, but she can sense what Icarus wants—more.

Aphrodite plunges into Icarus, until her lover’s breathing is rapid and Aphrodite is certain climax is near. Abruptly, she pulls out of Icarus, ignoring the whimper of frustration.

It only takes a moment to situate the other phallus from the drawer, and Aphrodite once again dips her fingers into Icarus to lubricate the double phallus. Icarus sucks in a breath as the heads of the dildos are situated at both of her entrances. This time, Aphrodite enters her at an excruciatingly slow pace, to allow for more adjusting, but the sight of Icarus so full of her makes Aphrodite want to fuck her lover senseless.

Icarus cries out once both phalluses are fully inside her, taking deep gasping breaths. “Yes, goddess!”

“Do you like me inside of you?” Aphrodite asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Mmhmm,” Icarus whimpers, thrusting against the phallus. As her climax nears, Icarus’s skin glows, a soft golden light as if the sunrise is there in their bed.

Aphrodite continues to drive into Icarus until she hears the familiar sound of her love’s orgasm.

Gently sliding the dildos out of Icarus, Aphrodite sets them aside and unfastens the restraints. Icarus drops face-down onto the bed with a satisfied sigh and she lays next to her, untying Icarus’s braid and running her fingers through the golden tresses.

The silence is peaceful at first as they lay together, intertwined, but after a while, Aphrodite has to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Icarus hesitates before saying, “I had a run-in with some rebels while out with the task force.”

When Icarus does not continue, Aphrodite says, “That does not seem too out of the ordinary. Did something happen?”

She notes the way Icarus pulls her bottom lips between her teeth and chews on it. She does that when she is not sure about what she wants to say. After so many lifetimes together, it should not surprise her that the tells are always the same.

“I did something I wasn’t supposed to. But… I’m not so sure it was wrong.”

“My love, you have to give me more to work with,” Aphrodite presses gently.

Icarus heaves a sigh. “I let a rebel get away with some children today.”

“You what ?” Aphrodite throws her hands in the air.

“They were children!” Icarus exclaims, frustration tinging the edge of her voice.

Aphrodite pinches her brow, trying to keep her irritation down. This is what all of this was about? Rebel guilt? “Icarus, those children grow up, and when they do, they will come for you just as their parents did.”

Icarus sits up, pulling the sheets up to her chest. “You can’t believe that! If everyone is already guilty of whatever their parents did before the, what is the point in living life and making choices? Why bother having dreams and ambitions? What if one of them grows up disagreeing with the rebels and then is the key to ending this battle?”

How did the atmosphere in the room shift so rapidly? One minute they are two lovers in post coital bliss, and now they are bickering over the fundamental basics of the world?

“Icarus,” Aphrodite says through gritted teeth, “you cannot possibly be this na?ve.”

Aphrodite watches the wall shutter over Icarus’s eyes. Wishes she could not see the hard edge that is now pointed in her direction. She should not have called her that, but what did she expect? These claims are juvenile and show how little time she has spent in the real world making difficult choices.

“You’re right, goddess .” The term has no reverence now, no respect. Icarus spit it out like poison, and perhaps it is.

Aphrodite’s heart screams at her to tell her to stop as she watches her put on her tunic and pants and collect her armor. But Aphrodite says nothing even as Icarus walks out the door, slamming it behind her.

T he day has been tedious, and Aphrodite’s heart is hanging on by a thread. She should have done more to prevent Icarus from leaving and to assuage her concerns about the rebels. It did not need to be a blow up like it did. Why did she let it go that far?

Icarus has been slipping through her fingers, and every opportunity to right the boat, Aphrodite watches helplessly as she makes choices that leave it capsized.

There have been a thousand things to do, meetings to attend, councils to oversee. Athena’s island is bustling with gods and council members alike. It is odd for such a large volume of Pantheon business to be conducted here instead of the Temple of Olympus, and Aphrodite is very much out of the loop now that she no longer shares Zeus’s bed.

Between the upheaval with Icarus and the extra Pantheon presence, Aphrodite is even more determined to return to her island for a few days.

Another thorough search for Circe’s mystery object will be a good distraction. Her soul feels cleaved in two with the way things stand with Icarus, but there will be time to fix everything with her once this island is quiet again.

Returning to her rooms, she winces at the sting that comes when she walks inside and is confronted with the reminder of her relationship falling apart in this very space only a few hours ago. On her vanity, however, a scroll catches her eye. It does not have a seal; it is tied with long thick green ribbon that Aphrodite recognizes as one Icarus sometimes wears.

Despite her annoyance that Icarus would be so careless as to leave a letter unsealed, she can barely stop her hands from shaking as she unrolls it and scans the contents several times.

Aphrodite,

I do not know a lot about the intricacies covering our world and those that choose to disrupt it, but I don’t think that should come between us and our love. What we have

is so much more than the power balance between mortals and gods. If you also think this is something worth fighting for, I will be in the gardens at 11 p.m.

If you do not choose to meet me, I understand.

This time with you has been incredible. I did not know it was possible to feel so alive.

Thank you, goddess,

Icarus

T he ink on the paper bleeds as a tear falls from Aphrodite’s cheek. Out the window, the fading light tells her that the sun is setting.

There are still several hours between now and when she needs to meet Icarus. She has no idea what they will do or how they will move forward, but Aphrodite is determined that they will do it together .

The evening drags on at a never-ending dinner with the other gods that is full of forced smiles and fake conversation. Her eyes flit to the clock every few seconds. All Aphrodite can think about is her golden ray of sunshine that she has neglected far too much.

She can finally get away with only thirty minutes to spare. Her room is on the way, so she can stop and grab a few things in case they need to make a quick getaway.

Her blood freezes in her veins when she finds her door open. Is it Icarus? Surely, she would not have left it unlocked; she is not usually so careless.

Dread pools in her stomach, but Aphrodite pushes her shoulder back, lifts her chin, and walks into her room like the goddess that she is. The false bravado deflates in an instant when she finds Oedipus sitting at her vanity, reading the letter from Icarus with one hand and twirling the ribbon with the other.

“Oedipus. What are you doing here?” Aphrodite asks. She tries to keep her voice calm, but it comes out clipped, and she knows it belies her nerves.

“I was talking to Zeus,” Oedipus drawls, a smirk spreading across his face. “It seems that the Goddess of Love has not been sharing too much of that love, and it got us to wondering whether you might have a secret lover.”

Aphrodite opens her mouth to object, but he puts a hand up to stop her.

“I told him that was preposterous, but it turns out you’ve had an eye on a mortal all along?” He tsks, shaking his head, his eyes going dark. “You’re too good for my bed, and you turn down the King of the Gods, but you let a mortal between your legs?”

“Get out,” Aphrodite seethes, acutely aware that this is taking entirely too long.

Oedipus laughs but there is no humor in the icy sound. “Let me tell you how this is going to work, Mother .”

He steps into her space, and Aphrodite stands her ground despite wanting to be as far away from her son as possible.

“You see,” he continues, placing a hand on her throat but not squeezing, “I know that your little tryst is forbidden. So, unless you want me to inform Zeus what you have been up to, you will finally give me what you should have a long time ago.”

“I am still your mother,” Aphrodite bites out.

“Hm. That you are. And unless you want this little lover to share the same fate as the last one, you will spread your fucking legs for me.”

A white-hot rage tears through Aphrodite. “The last one?”

High pitched ringing fills Aphrodite’s ears as Oedipus says, “I didn’t let you keep a mortal bitch for a pet then, and I won’t stand by and let you do it now.”

Five hundred years. For five hundred fucking years Aphrodite has been a ghost of herself, constantly searching for the love that she now knows was stolen from her. He has no idea that Icarus is a reincarnation of Andromeda, and she can be satisfied knowing he will never have that.

A cold calm washes over her, and she smiles at her son. “You’re right, darling.” Aphrodite flutters her lashes and flashes him her most alluring look.

His grip on her throat loosens, and he leans in to kiss her. She turns her head at the last second, cringing as his lips touch her throat. But while he is distracted with her false consent, her fingers slowly loosen the ribbon from his grasp. He does not notice when his head drops to the space between her breasts and she loosely circles the ribbon around his neck, not pulling it tight until it’s perfectly in place.

When she is ready, she croons, “Oedipus.”

He looks up at her from between her breasts, and when his eyes lock on hers, she pulls at either side of the ribbon until it tightens around his throat.

His eyes bug out, and his fingers fly to the ribbon, trying to get beneath the fabric, but his hands are too big. He swats at her grip, but she holds on tight; she is still a god after all.

His breathing slows, and as the life leaves his eyes she says, “This is for ever thinking you could touch me.”

He collapses to the floor with a thud, and she allows herself one second to grieve the sweet little boy he used to be. It breaks her heart that her child could have turned out this way, but she did everything she could to help him.

A sob leaves her as she stares at his lifeless body on the ground.

A chiming sound snaps Aphrodite out of her grief as she realizes it is the sound of the clock… striking 11 p.m.

Aphrodite races to the gardens, not bothering with decorum or protocol, ignoring the confused looks on acolytes and Heroes alike as she tears down the corridors.

Her heart is hammering in her chest when she finally reaches the spot they were to meet.

On a rock, glistening in the moonlight, is Icarus’s sunstone.