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“Sounds like the perfect start to a relationship.”

“Yes, an unhealthy one.”

“Have you thought about…I don’t know…turning her into more than just another one of your maenads?”

“I can’tturnher into anything.”

“Of course you can. You have already made her an unwilling prisoner.”

“To protect her.”

Whether she realized it or not, though that hadinitially not been the case. Originally, he’d kidnapped her and brought her to Bakkheia because he’d suspected her of posing as a distraction so Hera and Theseus could abduct the Graeae. While she had done exactly that, she’d also told him she’d only made the decision to do it once she’d met him and found him completely unbearable.

He clenched his teeth.

“So you care about her,” said the satyr.

“She is a means to an end, Silenus.”

And she would be nothing more.

“Well, if she is a means to an end, let us hope she ends up on your cock.”

Dionysus left his suite and took the elevator down to the basement, which was too simple of a word to describe what the underground of his club truly was. Most of the credit belonged to the maenads, who had made it into its own small city. It was a vast network of tunnels that connected to various parts of New Athens, and through it, they spied and killed and built a new life on the ashes of their past.

It was the complete opposite of what Ariadne had suspected, which was that he ran a sex trafficking ring. It was not the first time someone had accused Dionysus of such abominable behavior, but the fact thatshehad irked him, and it insulted the work of the maenads who spent the majority of their timerescuingother young people from fates similar to the ones they had escaped.

He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered either.

They would not be so effective if their secret was known, and the fact that the world outside his realmbelieved he participated in trafficking usually benefited his agenda. It meant that people seeking those services often came to him to make connections, eventually becoming the target of his assassins.

It was hard work, precarious work…and for some reason, Ariadne’s readiness to assume the worst stung.

It was not as if he should care either. He had only known her for a few weeks, and yet there she was, under his skin and burrowing deeper.

Sometimes when he was near her, he felt as though Hera had struck him with madness again.

When the elevator door opened, he stepped out onto the metal platform that overlooked the maenads’ main living area. It was large, to accommodate the number of women who had joined over the last several years, though not all his assassins lived here. He expected to find the room abandoned this early in the morning, but a few maenads were still awake and alert, standing with their arms crossed, looking up at the industrial ceiling where large, metal ducts and bright lights hung. Some women looked frustrated, others annoyed, and a few were amused. Despite their mixed feelings, he knew they were listening.

He sighed because he knew exactly what they were listening for: Ariadne was trying to escape again.

He shook his head and stepped closer to the platform’s edge. He wondered how long she’d been in the duct and when she’d stopped moving—likely as soon as he had arrived. She was probably up there now, cursing him, though he had no doubt she would wait him out as long as possible.

Then he heard a soft sneeze and concentrated hispower there. Screws popped out of holes, and the structure bent and folded. Ariadne gave a sharp cry as she fell from inside and crashed to the floor. For a split second, Dionysus worried that she had hurt herself during the fall, but she rolled onto her ass and glared at him.

She wore ripped jeans, a fitted shirt, and a leather jacket; her dark hair hung heavy over her shoulders. She was beautiful, even when she was pissed, which was all the time, at least with him.

“Leave,” he commanded, and the maenads dispersed, disappearing down one of several darkened archways, leaving him alone with Ariadne. He stared at her a moment longer before taking the stairs to the lower level. As he crossed to her, she rose to her feet, dusting herself off, wincing as she did. “What hurts?” he asked.

She froze and glared at him. “If you were worried about hurting me, you should have thought twice before using your powers against a mortal.”

“I did not use them against you.”

“Then we have very different ideas of that meaning.”

He took a deep breath to quell his frustration, but it didn’t work. “If you are going to try to escape, you could at least accept my offer of training. Perhaps then you’d be successful.”

“I am trained,” she snapped.