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She shook her head. “You don’t respect me. You don’t value anything I have to offer.”

That was not true, but he dared not say that aloud.

“I could say the same about you,” Dionysus said.

She set the book aside and stood. The hem of her shirt barely grazed the tops of her thighs. Whatever anger he felt for her, it also spurred his desire. He clenched his fists.

“Take me to Bakkheia then,” she said.

“What difference does it make where you stay?” Dionysus said. “It is not as if you will escape me.”

“You’re the one who offered the option,” she said. “So let me choose.”

“You already have,” he said, though he was distracted, noticing how the soft material of her shirt clung to her breasts, molding around her hard nipples. When Ariadne noticed, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Dionysus looked away, clearing his throat. He needed to go.

“I’ll have the maenads bring you some clothes,” he said, vanishing before making an even greater fool of himself.

Dionysus stood beside Silenus at the edge of a pier that extended far into the waters of the Gulf of Poseidon.Behind them, New Greece was shrouded in mist and heavy clouds, but the snowstorm did not seem to have touched this part of Poseidon’s realm.

They had been waiting for an hour with no sign of the God of the Sea. Given their history, Dionysus would not be surprised if he did not show at all.

“It is not as if anyone remembers that war,” said Silenus.

“I remember,” said Dionysus.

The war Silenus was referring to was a battle Dionysus had waged against Poseidon long ago over a nymph named Beroe, who they had both fallen in love with. Each had appealed to Aphrodite for her love, but the goddess was not swayed by their gifts and instead ordered them to fight, so they did. Dionysus lost quickly. It was one of the most embarrassing and shameful moments of his life and another reason he did not want Ariadne involved where the God of the Sea was concerned.

He did not trust Poseidon and believed that if he laid eyes on her, he would pursue her. Dionysus feared what he might do if that happened. It did not matter that he did not love her. She meant something, even if he could not figure out exactly what.

“So how’s the girl?” Silenus asked.

Dionysus ground his teeth. “She’s a woman, Silenus. And she’s fine.”

He could feel his foster father’s gaze.

“So you haven’t fucked her yet?”

“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” Dionysus said. “Shut up.”

“Can’t a father be concerned for his son’s well-being?”

“No,” Dionysus snapped. It was not even that he had been celibate, but since he’d met Ariadne, his desire for other women had ceased.

“Fine,” Silenus said. “Fine. I just think it would improve your mood.”

Dionysus’s stomach twisted. Hadn’t he told Ariadne something similar in the pleasure district? Gods, he hated that he sounded like his foster father.

“One more word,” Dionysus warned, “and I will push you into the ocean.”

Thankfully, the satyr listened, and the sound of the sea filled the silence between them, though Dionysus was not certain he liked it any better because it left him with his thoughts, which only centered around Ariadne.

He was fucking hopeless.

“Looks like Poseidon decided to come after all,” said Silenus.

Dionysus looked up to see a white yacht sailing toward them, and his heart raced. It was packed with people, and they were mostly nude, though some wore swimsuits. Music blared as they danced on every available surface. At one time, it was an environment Dionysus would have thrived within—created, even—but that was long ago, and now it only filled him with a sense of dread. It was easy to recall how the madness had felt in these moments, when the liquor was strong and the music pulsing.