Page 1 of Loved by Aphrodite (Gods and Beasts #4)
Chapter 1
Aphrodite
“ T hank you for letting me find him.”
Aphrodite paused, her interest piqued by the sincerity. She could see the young woman clearly in her mind—a shy smile as she lay awake, reflecting on love just blossoming, the thrill of possibility, the sweetness of new affection.
Voices drifted through the ether, soft whispers of gratitude, each threaded with the warmth and tenderness only mortals could carry. The words were a quiet ripple in the sea of prayers.
“I can’t believe I found the one,” another voice chimed, bubbling with joy. This prayer belonged to a man who had thought his time for love was over. But then she appeared—a gentle soul with laughter like sunlight through leaves, and now his heart sang with gratitude.
A third voice, older but steady, resonated in a tone that felt like an embrace. “Thank you for keeping our love strong, even after fifty years.” She listened as the words drifted up from a woman, her hands weathered but gentle as she placed them over her heart, thinking of her partner asleep beside her. Through all the decades, the ups and downs, their love had grown richer, deeper, like wine aging to perfection.
Aphrodite closed her eyes, allowing the voices to fill her. These whispered thanks, these quiet affirmations—they were gifts, simple but precious. Though she had been the goddess of love for millennia and had seen wars fought and kingdoms crumble for love’s sake, it was these small moments of appreciation that resonated the most. She felt a surge of contentment and pride in her work, the beauty of her power not in grand displays, but in the endless, intimate ties she wove between hearts.
The goddess breathed in the gratitude of each soul, each love story playing before her mind like an old, beloved tale. Mortals might have thanked her for helping them find love, but it was she who was blessed to witness its beauty in all its forms.
She’d seen countless lovers meet and part, seen loves forged through chance encounters, bold confessions, and the smallest moments that humans cherished. But these quiet words of thanks reminded her of why she carried on—why love, despite everything, was always worth the work.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Today was a good day to be a goddess, she thought, her heart swelling with the silent satisfaction of knowing her work would go on forever.
She looked around her home in Olympus and decided she needed to be closer to mortals and revel in their glow on the Upperworld.
She teleported into her apartment, and her eyes softened at the familiar view. Central Park lay sprawled out below, dappled in summer sunlight, with the lively hum of laughter and music drifting faintly through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She soaked it in for a moment, the mortal warmth, the lightness she could never find on Olympus.
A low, off-key humming drifted toward her, and she followed the sound, curiosity blooming. As she entered her jungle room, the lush foliage of her plant sanctuary greeted her, vibrant and thriving. In the center of it all stood Adonis.
And he was wearing…a dress?
Aphrodite leaned against the door, unable to hold back a grin as she took in the sight of him. “Hello, my dear,” she called out, her voice lilting with amusement.
Adonis turned, cheeks tinged pink and his tanned skin practically glowing against the frilly edges of a black and white outfit. Somehow, even in that ridiculous getup, he looked gorgeous.
“Oh, and what, exactly, are you wearing?” she teased, arching a brow.
He looked down at himself and then up at her. “You don’t recognize it? It’s a French maid’s outfit. Vintage,” he said, a little dramatically, twirling the feather duster he’d tucked into his apron.
She pressed her lips together, hiding her laughter. “Right, of course,” she said, nodding solemnly. Why would he be wearing this? “A costume—Halloween’s still a few months away. Or…is this some new twist?” She leaned in. “Something kinky, perhaps?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, now that you mention it, maybe I should keep it around. Never thought about using it in the bedroom, but thanks for the idea!”
Then he leaned over, pulling up the lacy edge of his skirt to reveal frilly underwear. He struck a pose. “Does it do it for you?”
She couldn’t hold back her laugh any longer. “It would have, but not anymore.” She gave him a playful wink. “Sorry, Adonis.”
He feigned a wounded look, clapping a hand to his chest. “A woman immune to my charms? How could I let that happen?”
She smiled, the words sounding almost too close to the truth. “Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, watching him as he reached for a watering can. “But maybe you should stick to plants. They seem to appreciate your charms just fine.”
He chuckled, letting his hand drift lovingly over a large monstera leaf. “Yeah, can you believe it? I’m low-key impressed by how well they’ve thrived here.” He looked over at her, his mouth curving with satisfaction. “And here I thought you didn’t have a green thumb.”
She stepped closer, joining him by the giant ferns and palms that nearly brushed the ceiling. “That’s the secret,” she said with a playful tilt of her lips. “I don’t. I have you.”
He laughed, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a warm, easy hug, pressing a friendly kiss to her cheek. “Lucky for you, then. I’d hate to see these beauties wither away on you.”
Aphrodite’s heart swelled, and she let herself sink into the comfort of his embrace. Their connection was steady and calm now, as natural as breathing. She remembered the intensity of the attraction that had first drawn them together—a passion that burned hot but had quickly softened into something she hadn’t expected to find with a human: a genuine friendship.
They had met when Aphrodite stepped into Persephone’s plant shop on the Upper East Side. She had been there to snoop and find out more about the young goddess who had captured Hades’s heart.
But then she saw Adonis and knew she had to have him in her bed. And so, she proceeded to use her charms on the handsome mortal. Feigning that she needed help setting up a jungle in her apartment had proven the key. And let’s just say that no one can resist the goddess of love . Their fling had been exhilarating, and she’d loved watching his face light up with each stolen moment. But what they shared now was richer, a warm familiarity that didn’t demand anything of her. It was rare, even among gods, to find someone she could simply…be with.
Adonis let go of her, his gaze lingering as he moved to adjust a hanging plant. “You know, sometimes I can’t believe you even let me stick around,” he said, his voice quieter, almost as if he were musing aloud. “I mean, you’ve got this incredible place, this whole life I barely know about.”
She felt a pang at his words, the unspoken truth tugging at her. This whole life you’ll never know about , holding back the familiar urge to tell him everything.
“Adonis,” she said gently, touching his arm. “You don’t need to know everything about me to be here with me. Isn’t that enough?”
He studied her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle, that easy warmth she’d come to cherish shining in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s enough.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I like the mystery. Keeps things interesting.”
She let out a soft laugh, grateful he was content with the mystery, even if a part of her longed to share everything. She wanted him to see her world, her truest self. But for now, it was enough to have him here, in her little oasis, his hands nurturing her plants, his laughter filling the room.
Because even though Adonis was best friends with Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, and Geri, a newly minted goddess, he didn’t know that Greek gods actually existed. And she wasn’t about to out his friends, since they thought it best to keep their true nature hidden.
She tossed him a wry look. “It’s happy hour somewhere, don’t you think? Shall we relax?”
“Absolutely,” he glanced down at himself, still in the frilly black and white maid outfit. “Although…maybe not like this.”
“Glad you agree,” she laughed, raising a brow. “That’s a little too much flair for lounging.”
“But it would be a good Halloween costume?” he asked as he reached for the hem and peeled off the dress, shimmying out of it right in front of her.
“Yes, it would,” she watched, amused, as he carefully folded the frilly underwear and set it aside.
“I was checking if it would be comfortable to wear.” Beneath it all, he wore simple, fitted briefs, and he nonchalantly grabbed a pair of shorts from his bag.
“There we go,” she said, nodding approvingly as he pulled on the shorts. “Much better.”
Together, they moved to the kitchen, mixing up gin and tonics with lime and a hint of mint. She handed him his drink, and they made their way out to the balcony, where the warm breeze was gently scented with fresh blooms and the distant laughter of the park below.
They sipped in silence for a few moments, watching the sun dip lower. Finally, Adonis spoke up. “Oh, by the way, Eros stopped by. Said to tell you he’s doing fine and—his words, not mine—‘still as gorgeous as his mother.’”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “That child. Let’s hope he didn’t charm you into his bed. I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”
His eyes widened, and he nearly choked on his drink. “Wait—no!” He set down his drink, mock-offended. “I mean, yeah, I’ve been pulled into bed by a mother and daughter by mistake before, and let me tell you, it was drama. But I wouldn’t do that to you.” He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Not with your son, at least.”
She burst out laughing, nudging him with her elbow. “Well, you never know! Eros is persuasive.”
He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay, so…Eros also mentioned someone named Hephaestus. Asked if he’d been around recently?”
Aphrodite dimmed a little, and she took a sip before answering. “Hephaestus? He’s…my ex-husband.”
“Ex-husband?” He blinked, taking in this new detail. “Is he…Eros’s dad?”
She shook her head. “No, Eros was before Hephaestus. Let’s say I had a bit of a colorful past.”
He tilted his head, his gaze curious. “Your names are something else. Aphrodite, Eros, Hephaestus. They’re not exactly…common.”
She smirked. “Well, they’re Greek.”
“Greek? Seriously?” He laughed as if it explained everything. “Your family must be really traditional—naming everyone after the ancient gods! I mean, who does that anymore?”
“Right…very traditional.”
He shrugged, chuckling. “Must’ve been hard growing up with all those ancient names around, huh?”
She just sipped her drink, hiding a smile. You have no idea.
“How old is Eros?” He gave her a curious look. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you and he kinda look like the same age!”
Aphrodite’s stomach did a little flip. Uh-oh, she thought, managing a laugh. “Oh, he’s twenty. And as for me…” She leaned back, sidestepping the question. “Thank you for saying I look young. You really know how to charm the ladies, don’t you?”
“Hey, I do what I can.” He reached for another handful of olives. “So, if Hephaestus isn’t Eros’s dad….”
As Adonis idly mused aloud about Eros’s dad, a familiar, bittersweet ache twisted inside her. She couldn’t help it—thoughts of her past drifted back, memories of a time far darker and more dangerous than she liked to remember.
She took a shaky breath. “Hephaestus…he isn’t Eros’s father, but he was there when we needed him most.” Her fingers fidgeted with her glass, her gaze somewhere far beyond Central Park. “Before Hephaestus, there was someone else. Someone I…Eros and I had to escape from. He helped us get away.”
A look of worry flashed across Adonis’s face. He reached over, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in a warm, solid hug. He held her close without saying a word, just letting her take a moment to gather herself, and she leaned into him, grateful for the comfort he offered.
Her mind wandered, lost in memories she’d long tried to bury. Thoughts of Cyncus resurfaced unbidden, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions she hadn’t felt in ages. They’d fallen hard for each other—intensely, passionately—and she’d been swept up in it all. She could still remember the thrill of their early days, the way he’d looked at her, how she’d thought he was the one. Then she’d found herself pregnant, carrying his child, and the world had felt even brighter. Eros’s birth should have cemented their happiness.
But everything had changed once Eros was born. Cyncus had become someone she barely recognized; his warmth turned cold, his words cutting where they’d once been sweet.
She glanced down at her drink, swirling the liquid as she sighed, almost in disbelief at how quickly things had shifted. “It’s strange,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, “how someone can turn into a stranger right in front of you.”
Adonis, who’d been sitting quietly, looked down at her, his brows knitting with concern. “Do you ever think…there were signs? Things you might’ve missed?”
She took a deep breath, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Sometimes, yes. Other times, I think…maybe he changed, or maybe I just didn’t want to see who he really was.” Her fingers tightened around her glass as she looked back at Adonis. “When you’re in love, you can be…blind. You tell yourself stories about someone, and you ignore the parts that don’t fit.”
He nodded slowly. “So…what happened? If it’s okay to ask.”
She forced a faint smile, though the pain was still there, just beneath the surface. “I don’t know if there’s one answer. He grew resentful—of Eros, of the time I spent with him. Everything I did seemed to set him off. Nothing was enough.” She paused, her gaze hardening as she looked down. “And when I wanted to visit my family and bring Eros with me, he absolutely forbade it. He said Eros would never leave Vale Crossing alive.”
She hated how, all these millennia later, it still hurt to think of him. “I stayed longer than I should have, believing he would come back around. But he never did.”
She could feel Adonis’s hand cover hers, a quiet, reassuring presence. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “No one should have to go through that.”
She gave a small nod and lay her head on his shoulder. “Thank you. Sometimes I wonder how much of it was my fault. Like…if I’d paid attention, maybe I would’ve seen it coming.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Aphrodite. Love’s not about second-guessing, right? It’s about trusting. And you did. That’s not something to regret.”
A warmth spread through her, a reminder that she wasn’t as alone with her memories as she sometimes felt. After a moment, she pulled back, pushing the memories of Cyncus to the edges of her mind. “It’s another reason I can’t be mad at Hephaestus. He did so much for us. He didn’t have to, but he did.”
“He sounds like a good guy. I’m glad you had him to help you both through that.”
She nodded, feeling a little lighter, though her heart still carried the weight of that past. It had been so long since she had thought about Cyncus. And then there was Hephaestus. It had been millennia since they’d crossed paths, since he never went to any of the council meetings. It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d become a hermit by now.
But then, as if sensing the need for a change, Adonis pulled away from her, his face alight with amusement. “You know what? I’ve got an idea. How about we do something crazy with your hair?”
She blinked, surprised, her hand instinctively touching her long blonde locks, which had cascaded nearly to the floor since before the Titan War. “My hair?”
“Yes!” His grin widened, clearly excited at the idea. “You’ve got this whole golden goddess vibe going on, which is awesome, but maybe you need a little shake-up. Something fresh!”
She hesitated, then, seeing the excitement in his eyes, let herself go with it. Why not? She could use a change, something lighthearted, to shift her mood. “Alright, what are you thinking, stylist?”
“Oh, I’ve got a vision,” he laughed, taking her hand. “Trust me. You won’t regret it.”