Page 11 of Loved by Aphrodite (Gods and Beasts #4)
Chapter 11
Hephaestus
H ephaestus’s living room was comfortably cluttered, with shelves of tools and gadgets vying for space with books and artifacts from his workshop. Aphrodite’s presence, though, transformed the room into something else entirely. She strode across the room with nervous energy, her hands moving restlessly as though trying to grasp at thoughts she couldn’t quite form.
He sat in his chair by the window, watching her. He knew they had to talk. The burden of it pressed on him, heavy and insistent. She could feel it too—he could tell from the way her steps faltered slightly every time she glanced his way, only to look away again.
“You’re wearing a groove into the floor,” he said, hoping to coax her into stopping.
She paused mid-step, shooting him a glare over her shoulder. “And what else am I supposed to do, Hephaestus? The council wants blood for all the chaos with Winged, but it doesn’t seem like they think it has anything to do with Eros.”
“Aphrodite, you and I both know Eros’s actions brought this on himself. The mayhem in the Upperworld didn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s tied to love, so it could be connected to either of you. You can’t deny that.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned to face him fully, her chin lifted in defiance. “I’m not denying anything. But he’s my son. I’m not going to just throw him to the wolves.”
“No one’s asking you to,” he replied evenly, though his jaw tightened. “But he’s a god, Aphrodite. He needs to face the consequences of his actions. He’s not some mortal who can’t understand responsibility. He should understand it by now.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m furious with him. Furious,” she crossed her arms, her fingers tapping against her elbow as if she were holding herself together. “You don’t understand. The council won’t treat him fairly given his track record. They’ll come down harder on him because of it.”
He moved to stand next to her. “Maybe they will. But you said it yourself—he has a track record. If he doesn’t learn now, when will he? The longer you shield him, the worse it’s going to get.”
Her gaze wavered, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. She was angry—at Eros, at the situation, maybe even at him. But beneath that was a mother’s love, fierce and unwavering. He understood that. He’d seen her defend Eros countless times, even when the boy had pushed her to her limits. It wasn’t a weakness. It was who she was.
“You think I haven’t considered every possible outcome? I have a feeling they’ll go easier on me than on him. I’m…Aphrodite. But Eros? He’s reckless, impulsive, and they’ll see this as just another one of his stunts.”
He sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. “Maybe they will. But protecting him now might cost him more in the future. If you let him take responsibility, it might be the only way he grows into the god he’s meant to be.”
She turned to face him, her silver-blue eyes blazing. He found himself rooted in place, unable to look away. Her fierceness was magnetic, but beneath it, he could see something else—a vulnerability she kept carefully hidden.
“I’ll deal with the council,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “Eros doesn’t need to be dragged into this. I’ll take responsibility for what happened.”
“No. You’re not doing that, Aphrodite. This isn’t all on you. Eros made the mess; he should clean it up.”
Her gaze narrowed, and her hands went to her hips. “He’s my son. It’s my job to protect him.”
“And what happens when protecting him means you take the blame for something he did? Do you think the council will go easy on you just because of who you are? They won’t.”
She scoffed, throwing her hands up. “I can handle the council, Hephaestus. I’ve been dealing with their judgment for centuries. This is nothing new.”
“They’ll want to make an example of you,” he countered; the thought of her standing alone before the council made his chest tighten. “Love magic causing chaos in the Upperworld? They’ll see it as your failure to keep control.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her voice was quiet but full of fire. “I won’t abandon my son.”
“And I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for him. We’ll face the council together. If they need someone to blame, I’ll take the fall.”
Her eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, she was silent. Then she shook her head. “Why would you do that? This isn’t your fight.”
“Because it is,” he said simply. “You think I’d stand by and watch you burn for something that isn’t entirely your fault? Not a chance.”
They stood there, the silence between them charged and heavy. Her eyes searched his, and she seemed at a loss for words.
“I don’t need a savior,” she finally said, almost a whisper.
“I’m not trying to save you. I’m trying to stand beside you. That’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it?”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. But then she folded her arms, her eyes gleaming with stubborn determination. “I’ve already decided, Hephaestus,” she said firmly. “I’ll handle this myself. The council won’t touch you or Eros.”
“You can’t just decide that,” he snapped as he tried to rein in his frustration. “You’re not the only one involved in this.”
Her eyebrows arched in a challenge. “Oh? And what exactly would you do? Stand there and let them throw the book at you? You know they’d love to blame this on you just for being near me when it all happened.”
“Better me than you,” he shot back. “The council already sees me as an outlier. What’s one more mark on my name compared to what they’d do to you?”
She gave a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself? You’d let them exile you or worse just to save me? That’s not noble, Hephaestus—it’s stupid.”
He snatched his hand back, his emotions bubbling to the surface. “And you think it’s any less reckless for you to try and take this on alone? You’re not invincible, Aphrodite. I know you like to think you are, but even you have limits.”
“I’m perfectly capable of handling the council.” Her eyes flashed. “I’ve been doing it without anyone’s help.”
“This isn’t just about handling the council!” he yelled, his voice ringing through the room. “It’s about us. About showing them we’re stronger together. If you go in there alone, they’ll think they can divide us. And you know what happens then—they’ll come after us, one by one, until there’s nothing left.”
She froze, his words clearly striking a nerve. But then her defiance returned. “I’m not dragging you into this. You’re not part of my mess.”
“I’m not asking for your permission to stand by you. I’m doing it because I care about you, and I’m not going to let you carry this alone.”
“You think this is some romantic gesture?” her expression flickered, the conflict in her eyes betraying her resolve. “That you throwing yourself into the fire is going to fix everything?”
“It’s not about romance. It’s about doing what’s right—for you, for Eros, for all of us.”
Her jaw tightened, and she took a step back. “I’ve handled worse things on my own.” Then she turned away from him.
“You don’t have to handle this alone!” he called after her; his voice was deep and gravelly, but it carried a rawness that cut through the space between them.
She turned sharply, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I do.”
Before he could respond, the air around her shimmered, and with a wave of her hand, she vanished in a burst of golden light. The faint scent of roses lingered in her wake, leaving Hephaestus alone in the quiet room, staring at the space where she had stood just moments before.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. The golden light of her departure still lingered faintly, mocking him with its finality.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Great,” he muttered, pacing the length of the room. “Just fucking great.”
They’d always danced around their problems, sidestepping every difficult conversation like it was a pitfall waiting to claim them. They’d ignored the cracks in their foundation, pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. But now…now it was different.
He stopped and looked back at the empty space again, a heaviness settling in him. They weren’t the same gods they had been. After everything they’d been through the past few days—working together, facing challenges, rediscovering pieces of themselves in each other—he knew better. They were better.
She wasn’t just the goddess of love to him anymore. She was Aphrodite, a woman full of contradictions—strong and vulnerable, infuriating and captivating. And he cared for her, not just in the passive, resigned way he had when they were first paired together, but in a way that made him ache to do things right this time.
“We’re better than this,” he said aloud, his voice low but resolute.
He sank into the nearest chair, his mind racing. How could he make her see that she didn’t have to do this alone? That he wasn’t trying to diminish her independence or her strength but that they could face whatever was coming together?
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor. His fingers itched to work, to channel his frustration into something tangible, but for once, he forced himself to sit with the discomfort. Running from it wouldn’t help—not this time.
He wasn’t sure how, but he was determined to find a way to reach her. Because despite everything, despite the argument and her dramatic exit, he knew that what they had now was worth fighting for. And for the first time, he was ready to fight.
“Where would she even go?” he muttered to himself, raking a hand through his hair. She had a knack for disappearing when things got heated, and it wasn’t like she left a trail of glitter for him to follow.
He sat back in his chair, fishing his phone out and glaring at it as if it held all the answers. After a moment of deliberation, he scrolled through his contacts and tapped out a quick text to Eros:
“Where does your mother go when she’s on the Upperworld?”
The reply came faster than he expected:
“Could be anywhere. Why?”
He narrowed his eyes at the screen and typed furiously:
“So you can answer your phone!”
Almost instantly, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He sighed, shaking his head as he answered. “Eros.”
“Well, hello to you too, Stepdad,” Eros said. “What’s so urgent that you’re texting me about Mama’s whereabouts?”
“I want to talk to her,” he said, skipping the pleasantries.
Eros hummed in response. “Interesting. And what would you need to talk to her about?”
“Arketá! Let’s not do this, Eros,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There are things we need to discuss—important things.”
“Oh, important things,” Eros echoed, clearly enjoying himself. “Is this about the Winged app? Isn’t it crazy? Though I don’t know anything about it.”
Hephaestus smirked, even though Eros couldn’t see it. “Of course you don’t. Completely unrelated to you, I’m sure. Just like the entire mortal world losing their minds and suddenly deciding love is the only thing that matters.”
“Sounds like a great world, doesn’t it?” Eros quipped.
“You’re not helping.”
“Neither are you,” Eros shot back. “And why do you even care where Mama is? You two are talking now? Like, actual talking?”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Wow,” Eros let out a low whistle. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day. What’d you do to piss her off this time?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Do you know where she is or not?”
There was a pause, and then Eros said, “You should try her apartment in New York City. I just sent the address.”
Hephaestus glanced at his phone and saw the notification pop up. “Got it,” he said, already standing.
“Good. You should go now.”
Before Hephaestus could respond, the line went dead.
He stared at his phone in disbelief, then released a frustrated groan. “Mother and son, both of them impossible. I’m not sure which one of them drives me crazier.”
He materialized in Aphrodite’s apartment and took a moment to glance around the living room. The decor screamed her: tasteful but bold, with an air of effortless glamour. He noticed a soft throw draped over the couch and a faint floral scent lingering in the air. It was undeniably Aphrodite’s space, but there was something about the energy of the room that unsettled him.
He ventured farther, passing through an arched doorway into another part of the apartment. That’s when he heard it—murmured voices, low and intimate. His stomach tightened as he followed the sound, steeling himself for whatever he was about to find.
When he stepped into the next room, he froze. It was a lush, indoor sanctuary, the walls lined with racks of potted greenery of every kind, hanging plants, and blossoms bursting with vibrant colors. The air was rich with the scent of earth and flowers, warm and alive. But what truly caught his eye wasn’t the flora—it was Aphrodite.
She was in the arms of another man, a handsome mortal who held her close, his hand stroking her hair in a soothing gesture. She leaned into him, her face buried in his shoulder. Neither of them noticed Hephaestus standing there, his heart sinking and his stomach churned, the ache spreading through him like molten iron cooling too quickly, leaving him heavy and unsteady.
He quickly backtracked into the living room, his mind spinning. Of course. Of course, she went to be comforted by one of her lovers. The bitter thought hit hard, the old insecurities rising to the surface. He couldn’t stop the familiar whisper at the back of his mind, the one that had plagued him for eons. It reminded him of the days when he was mocked for his limp, for his unpolished hands, for not fitting the golden mold of a god. Aphrodite, radiant and untouchable, was everything he had always thought he couldn’t deserve. Standing in her space now, surrounded by her world, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding and would always be the outsider, the one who had to try too hard to belong.
Then came the deeper cut, the one tied to their history. For so long, he had been a convenience for her, someone to tolerate but not truly want. And now, seeing her with the mortal—a symbol of youth and effortless allure—it all came rushing back. What could he possibly offer her that any other wouldn’t surpass? The doubt clenched at him, dragging him into the past, even as part of him desperately wanted to believe things could be different this time.
He raked his hand through his hair, and his eyes landed on something—a painting hanging on the wall. He paused, his breath catching. It was of him and Eros, the two of them hunting together in what looked like Thessaly. He recognized the moment it depicted instantly. They’d never posed for it, but the details were unmistakable. The way he held his bow, the fierce determination in Eros’s expression, the unspoken bond between them as they moved in perfect synchronization.
It stirred a deep ache within him, pride and sorrow welling up inside him. Those were simpler times, weren’t they? Back before everything grew so complicated. Before layers of mistrust and misunderstandings drove them apart.
Am I really going to give up so easily? he thought. I deserve better than this. She deserves better than this.
He wasn’t a man who gave up easily, not in his work, not in anything he truly cared about. He wasn’t going to start now.
He squared his shoulders and strode back into the sanctuary. This time, he didn’t hesitate.
Clearing his throat, he announced his presence.
Aphrodite and the man turned, startled. Aphrodite stepped back quickly, her expression a mix of surprise and something he couldn’t quite read. “Hephaestus?”
The young man smiled, his demeanor relaxed and friendly. “Hephaestus? Good to meet you. I’m Adonis,” he said, stepping forward to extend a hand.
Hephaestus hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the handshake. Adonis’s grip was firm but unthreatening, his confidence so effortless it was almost disarming.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Adonis said with a grin. Then, glancing at Aphrodite, he added, “I’ll leave you two to it.”
Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving Hephaestus and Aphrodite alone.
They stood there in silence, and Hephaestus looked at her. She looked every bit the goddess she was—untouchable, ethereal, and heartbreakingly beautiful—but her hands fidgeted at her sides before she crossed her arms, her brow furrowing slightly. She looked regal even in her discomfort, her head held high despite the tension in the room.
He stepped closer, the solid weight of his boots echoing faintly against the polished wood floor. “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “is now a good time to talk?”
His voice carried the gravity of everything left unsaid, and Aphrodite, for once, seemed unsure of how to respond.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she squared her shoulders. “I’m going to tell the council it was my fault—the love magic going out of control is on me.”
His eyes stayed on her, his jaw tensing as he willed himself to temper his frustration. She was beautiful, even in her defiance, but her stubbornness was as maddening as ever. “We should talk about this,” he repeated, his voice calm but firm.
“No, I don’t think so,” she retorted sharply.
“But you can talk to Adonis about it,” he grumbled under his breath.
“What did you say?” she snapped, her eyes blazing.
“You heard me,” he folded his arms, meeting her glare head-on.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I can talk to him,” she hissed, tossing her head in defiance before brushing past him toward the doorway.
He turned slightly as she moved. “Aphrodite.”
The word hung in the air, and she froze in front of him. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then, slowly, she looked up at him, her eyes clouded with conflict. “You can’t expect me to be okay with letting others take the fall for what’s my responsibility. You know I can’t do that.”
He reached out, his hand hovering near her arm as if to stop her, but she stepped away, the distance between them widening with each heartbeat. He was left standing alone, her scent and the tension lingering behind.
He clenched his fists, willing himself to stay calm. He took a few deep breaths, his mind racing as he considered his next move. It was clear he needed a different approach. Maybe, he thought grimly, he’d have to rile her up to get through to her. Bracing himself for whatever might come, he followed her into the living room.
She stood by the window, her arms crossed, staring out into the cityscape. Her posture was tense, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that he couldn’t ignore.
“So,” he began, his voice light but pointed, “you can trust Adonis enough to cry on his shoulder, but you can’t talk to me? Interesting.”
She didn’t whip around or snap at him as he expected. Instead, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “He’s a friend,” she said softly. “We used to be lovers, but now there’s none of that between us. We’re good friends, Hephaestus. He doesn’t even know that I’m a goddess.”
Her words were calm but heavy with emotion. She finally turned to face him, and the raw hurt in her eyes struck him like a blow. Without thinking, he crossed the room in three strides and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t resist, melting into his embrace as silent tears wet his shoulder.
He held her tighter, resting his chin lightly on her head. “You know,” he murmured, “we’ve known each other for so long. We have secrets only the two of us share, but we still can’t figure out how to talk to each other.”
She sniffled, letting out a small, bitter laugh against his shoulder. “Yeah, ’cause you’re such an asshole.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, knowing she meant the opposite. He slowly pulled back, just enough to place a finger under her chin and tilt her face toward him. “Can we talk now?” he asked softly.
Aphrodite’s eyes locked with his, searching his gaze as though she could pull the answers she needed directly from him. Her expression softened, the usual fiery edge dimmed by something gentler, something vulnerable. He held her gaze, letting her take the time she needed.
Finally, she nodded and reached for his hand. And, without a word, led him toward the couch. The tension in her movements eased slightly as they sank into the cushions together. She curled into his side, tucking herself close, her head resting just under his chin.
He wrapped his arm around her instinctively. Neither spoke, the silence stretching like a bridge between them, unspoken emotions weaving into something fragile but real.
“Okay,” he began, “hear me out.”
She shifted slightly to look up at him, her eyes wary but attentive. She gave a slight nod, signaling for him to continue.
“I’ve been thinking about this. I could tell the council it was me. I was the one working on the app, and something went wrong—mortal tech malfunctioned, and the matches went haywire.” He paused, his gaze fixed on hers. “No one would believe you had a part in it. You don’t exactly have a reputation for tinkering with tech.” His lips quirked into a wry smile, trying to lighten the moment. “Besides,” he added, “they already know we’ve been working together. It wouldn’t be a stretch for them to believe it was my fault.”
She tensed against him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Gently, he loosened her hold, twining his fingers with hers instead. He traced circles on her palm with his thumb, a silent reassurance as he waited for her response.
“That makes sense,” she finally said hesitantly, as though weighing every word. Relief began to creep in, and he started to smile, but then she shook her head, dashing his hope. “But I can’t agree to it.”
Her grip on his hand tightened, her knuckles white. “It’s crazy that they voted to make me talk about it. Who knows how bad the punishment will be.” She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “But it’s just too much. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”
He swallowed hard, his throat dry as what she said carved through him. She was always so fiercely protective, but hearing it said aloud made his chest ache, like something inside him was splintering.
She took a shaky breath. “If Zeus were still around, I wouldn’t be scared about what would happen to you or Eros. I could’ve called in a favor to him.”
He blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Aphrodite’s eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment. “Oh, you know,” she said, waving a hand as though dismissing the subject. “I was constantly doing things for him.”
Something about the way she said it set him on edge. It didn’t sit right, and his gut told him there was more to this than she let on. He leaned forward slightly, his voice firmer, “Tell me, Aphrodite.”
She sighed, the sound heavy with resignation, and looked away before meeting his gaze again. “The reason Zeus gave us a divorce so suddenly,” she began, her voice low, “was because he wanted me to fix a situation he was in.” She paused, deliberate now, each word measured. “He wanted me to make a mortal princess give in and fall for him.”
He stiffened, his jaw tightening as her confession sank in.
“I don’t even know why he needed me for it,” she grumbled. “But for some reason, he wouldn’t let up. He brought it up again on the day of Eros’s golden apple ceremony.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “I thought it was perfect timing. So, I asked him to grant us the divorce so you could be free to live your life without me and Eros. Those fifteen years were too long to be tied to us when you could’ve found love and been with someone you chose to be with.”
She exhaled, her shoulders slumping as though she had finally set down a burden she had carried for far too long.
He stared at her, his thoughts a chaotic storm as he processed what she said. Of all the things she could have said, this revelation hadn’t even crossed his mind. He tried to search her face, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on their intertwined hands as though bracing for the worst.
Finally, he found his voice, though it felt thin and unsure. “You did that?”
She nodded, her shoulders tense. “Yes. I felt bad all those years. You’re such a great guy, Hephaestus. You took care of us when you didn’t have to, and I thought it was the right thing to do.”
He fell silent again, the echo of what she said lingering in his mind as he tried to unravel the mess of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Betrayal, gratitude, affection—they all jumbled together, leaving him unsure of where one ended and another began. He shook his head slowly, letting out a soft breath.
“We really should be better about talking about things,” he said at last.
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. “You’re not upset?”
He shook his head again, this time with a small smile. “No. Because I was thinking the same thing—that we were just together because Zeus arranged it. That you were trapped.” He hesitated, his voice softening. “But during that time, I came to care about you and Eros. More than I should have.
“That wasn’t something I expected when we were thrown together, but it happened. What I wrote in the book about our truths from Thessaly—those weren’t just words. I meant every one of them. We weren’t just two gods stuck in an arrangement. We were…a family. And I cared for you in ways I didn’t even know I was capable of.”
He paused, running a hand through his hair. “When Zeus granted the divorce so quickly, yeah, it surprised me. But it didn’t erase what I felt for you. It wasn’t enough to make me forget the way you loved so fiercely, the way you protected Eros, the way you carried yourself with this strength that could shatter mountains if you wanted to. How could I forget that? How could I forget you?
“I tried, you know,” his gaze met hers. “For millennia, I tried to ignore those feelings. And it worked, mostly because I avoided you like my sanity depended on it. But now—seeing you again, working together, spending time with you—it’s impossible to push it down anymore.
“Why should I? Why should I ignore what I feel? I want to be with you, Aphrodite. Not because anyone says we have to, not because it’s convenient, but because I can’t imagine going through eternity pretending I can live without you.”
Aphrodite’s lips parted slightly, caught in a moment of pure surprise. The vulnerability in her expression was unlike anything he’d seen before. Her silver-blue eyes, usually filled with playful mischief or defiance, now held a softness that made him feel as though he were melting and constricting simultaneously. She looked so beautiful, so open, that he found himself moving closer without even realizing it.
He reached up, his calloused fingers brushing against her chin, and her breath hitched. She sighed, the sound delicate and full of something he couldn’t quite name, and her lashes fluttered closed. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers, tasting sweetness and something distinctly Aphrodite—a flavor that was as intoxicating as it was familiar. Somehow, the kiss felt like something more than any other time.
He was happy that he could finally kiss her, the barriers that had held them apart seemingly dissolving in the warmth of the moment. As her lips moved softly against his, he made a silent vow, fierce and unyielding: he would do everything in his power to ensure this wasn’t a fleeting moment. Whatever it took, he would fight for the chance to hold onto this, to hold onto her, and to kiss her like this for the rest of eternity.