Page 2 of Loved by Aphrodite (Gods and Beasts #4)

Chapter 2

Hephaestus

I n the quiet solitude of his workshop, Hephaestus, God of Forges and Fire, trained a keen eye on his latest invention. Rubbing his scruffy chin, he observed the machine as it rocked back and forth.

Not quite done.

The movement was still not smooth enough, and the motor made too much noise. This simply would not do, because this had to be the perfect gift.

After a few manual adjustments to the arm to fix the torque and minor tweaks to the motor with the help of his magic, he flipped the “on” switch. The machine began to move, swinging to and fro silently and fluidly.

Finally perfect.

He’d been working for months, creating an automatic baby cradle–rocker–bouncer–carrier that could do almost anything, from soothing a crying infant with its gentle motions to transforming into an indestructible and impenetrable shell that would protect its precious cargo. It had every bell and whistle new parents would want, from a GPS tracker, 360-degree camera, retractable wheels, food warmer, to name a few. No other child would have such a device, and rightly so. After all, this machine wasn’t just for any regular baby. No, this device—and the identical one he would build now that he’d perfected it—would be his gift to the children of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt.

Well, former Goddess of the Hunt, because she was now mated and married to an Alpha wolf shifter and had given up her immortality to be with him.

Hephaestus let out a grunt. While he had no objection to Artemis choosing to live a mortal life, part of him mourned the loss of someone he considered a sister—albeit an annoying one—to mortality. Having lived thousands of years himself, he’d experienced the lives and deaths of many of his friends and it did not get easier over time.

I hope he’s worth it, Artemoula , he thought silently, as it was something he would never say aloud. Her choice of a husband was unconventional, but he could not deny she was truly happy. He’d seen it in her eyes, on her face, whenever she looked at her mate. And he could see it too, on Cade Andersen’s face when he gazed upon her.

Which was a good thing because if he did hurt her, he would break the Alpha so badly, no one, not even Hephaestus himself, would be able to fix him.

Content with the final product, he gathered the materials to make a second rocker, since Artemis had announced she was pregnant with twins. Despite his workshop’s messy state, he knew where every tool, every spare part, every bolt and nut were located. His mechanical leg—the one he had fashioned and improved himself over the millennia—whirred quietly as he moved about. Born with a deformed limb, magic could not heal him, but that only meant he had to find his own solution. Though The Fates may have dealt him with a misshapen appendage, they also gave him the ability to create ingenious machines and infuse them with his own magic.

So, over time, he managed to find different methods, materials, and enchantments to improve his prostheses, using technology that the mortals devised to refine each design. He was not only curious about what the humans of the Upperworld created, but he was fascinated by it. Over the last few centuries, especially, he watched humankind develop their own technology, evolving from using crude tools to steam-powered machines to microchips and silicon. He learned from them, building on their creations, as well as making his own with his magic. With centuries of knowledge under his belt, there was no piece of tech he could not master or recreate.

The hours passed as he put together the parts and pieces for the second rocker, though he didn’t notice the time. As a god, he required little rest or drink or food, so he continued through the day and night, working until he was finished with his creation. He made a few more adjustments, then set the two rockers side by side before glancing up at the clock.

Fuck!

The baby shower had already started. Artemis would be furious with him if he missed the gender reveal. He added some finishing touches to his creations, including a flourish of gold along the front of the cradles that Artemis could personalize with each child’s name. With a snap of his fingers, the two cradles were boxed together and wrapped.

He then teleported to Anchorage, more specifically, to the territory of the Alaska Wolf pack. He and the precious package appeared behind the barn where the baby shower was to be held. As he circled to the front, the large box hovering behind as it followed him, he saw numerous guests milling about, which hopefully meant the festivities hadn’t begun yet. He shrugged off the stares of the people around him—mostly mortals and shifters —and headed inside. While he normally didn’t attend such things, he was here to support his friend. That, and Artemis had threatened to never forgive him if he didn’t make an appearance for the gender reveal at the very least.

Who the hell thought of doing gender reveals? What a silly thing for mortals to announce to the world.

He bristled at the growing crowd inside, and their gawking became difficult to ignore. To say he wasn’t a people person was an understatement. He preferred his own company and that of his creations. After all, while machines required maintenance and care, they were not unreasonable or demanding.

Where was—ah. In the middle of it all was Artemis, surrounded by other guests like she was the center of the universe. Bright and cheerful, it was easy to see why mortals and gods alike flocked to her. Artemis was the type of person who could make anyone feel welcome. And if they didn’t want to be welcomed? Well, they never had a choice anyway. She was determined to fill your life with rays of sunshine, whether you wanted it or not.

Slowly, he approached the group, raking his fingers through his hair. He wished he had at least run a comb through his untidy locks or trimmed his scraggly beard or maybe put something on aside from his usual grease-stained garb, but there had been no time for that. Besides, it wasn’t like he cared what any of the guests here thought, mortal and immortal alike.

Creeping up behind Artemis’s group, he said, “Excuse me.” He gestured to the box behind him. “Where do I put this?”

“H, you came!” Artemis squealed as she bounded toward him, her face lighting up. “I didn’t think I’d see you.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed at the back of his head. “I made you something, Artemoula. For the twins.”

“Of course. You can put it by the other gifts. Thank you, H.”

“You’re wel—Aphrodite?”

Hephaestus’s heart leapt into his throat before it tumbled over and back down at the sight of the goddess of love herself, standing two feet away from him. Still, he could not speak or move, and his normally organized thoughts jumbled in his mind.

How long had it been since he had seen his ex-wife?

Twenty thousand, five hundred and sixty-eight years, ten months, eight weeks, and six days.

Give or take a few hours.

“Hello, Hephaestus,” she greeted.

“I…didn’t recognize you.” Instead of her usual floor-length golden locks, her hair was the color of roasted chestnuts and ended just below her shoulders. Also, she wore modern clothes—a pink sundress paired with a blue sweater—instead of her customary white robes. But, even though she’d changed her hair and clothes, he would recognize that gorgeous face and silver-blue eyes anywhere, not to mention, the melodic voice that haunted his dreams.

“Yeah, I changed my hair,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s…nice.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everyone really was staring now, and the discomfort bled through him like a gaping wound. Plucking the box from midair, he held it in front of him as if it would protect him. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go.”

He tore his gaze away from Aphrodite and spun on his heel. While he wasn’t sure where he was headed, it didn’t matter, as long as he put as much distance between himself and her, because it was the only way he would be able to breathe again.

Outside. Air. Sun.

He marched toward the exit, taking each step one at a time, forcing himself to keep moving and not look back. When he found a quiet spot under the shade of a gigantic pine, he put the box down and braced himself against the tree. Closing his eyes, he allowed the air to slowly enter his lungs. Despite himself, the memories he had thought he’d forgotten came rushing back.

The marriage had never been his idea; it had been arranged by Zeus as a “reward” for his loyalty and help during the war with the Titans. Hephaestus had worked day and night from the start to the end of the war, building and designing weapons, chariots, shields, anything they needed to fight against the Titans, as well as the portal door that would ultimately lock them away in Tartarus forever. He gladly would have done it ten times over if it meant their victory, without any kind of reward.

Zeus, however, had insisted on recompensing him once he became the king of the gods and ruled Mount Olympus. One day, he summoned Hephaestus to his palace and declared that his reward would be the hand of the most beautiful goddess of all, Aphrodite.

It had been a different time. Zeus’s victory had earned him the respect of the other gods, and being their king, his word was law. No one said no to Zeus.

Besides, when he saw Aphrodite when Zeus summoned her, he had been too stunned by her beauty to say anything in her presence. For most of his life and during the entire war, Hephaestus had stayed in his workshop, kept the forges and fire going and hardly interacted with the other gods and goddesses. This was the first time he had truly looked upon her, and he’d been awed that she would be his wife.

For a moment he allowed himself that thought, but then remembered who he was—misshapen, ugly Hephaestus with a deformed stump for a leg. It was a joke really, and he decided that he would tell Zeus he could not accept his “gift” and leave at once.

But it was the bruises on her arms and face that made him stay.

A loud whooshing sound jolted him from his thoughts.

What the hell?

It sounded like something was flying overhead.

Or falling.

Glancing up, he saw a bright blur from the sky, hurtling downward. A large ball, a meteorite perhaps, set aflame as it descended from the atmosphere, crashed hard, shaking the earth as it made impact.

Springing into action, Hephaestus rushed toward the fiery ball, which turned out not to be a ball or meteorite. No, the faintly human-shaped outline told him this was a living thing, but the large wings protruding from the figure and the familiar bow next to it made Hephaestus’s heart stop.

“Eros!” He rushed to his ex-stepson’s side, ignoring the acrid smell of burnt skin and feathers. “Eros,” he repeated as he carefully brushed the soot and dirt from the god of love and desire’s face. “Look at me, son. Are you okay?”

Golden lashes fluttered, revealing startling silvery-blue eyes “I…Mother…”

“What happened?” Aside from the burns on his body, Eros’s face was bloody and swollen. Someone had obviously beaten him to a pulp. “Eros, wake up.”

“I want…Mother…” he groaned. “She’s near.”

Hephaestus grit his teeth. Mother and son were linked by their filial relationship as well as their magic, so they could appear at each other’s side if they wished. He’d never seen anyone beaten up this badly, especially not Eros, so he must really be hurting if he was seeking his mother. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get you to her.”

He did his best to be careful as he lifted Eros up, snaking his arm under him. Glancing at the god, he could only sigh.

How many times had he helped Eros when he got in trouble? He’d always been volatile, even as a young demi-god child, fighting with the other children who teased him. How many scrapes had Hephaestus bandaged, how many black eyes had he iced, how many bloody knuckles had he cleaned?

So, he supposed this was par for the course for them.

“You must help me, Eros…yes, that’s it…one foot in front of the other.” He led them toward the barn, dragging Eros along as best he could inside. The guests were concentrated in the middle, though the happy and relaxed atmosphere from earlier was gone, replaced by a buzz of energy that told him they had all heard the crash.

“Who the fuck is that ?” said a loud booming voice that he recognized as Cade Andersen’s. “And why is Hephaestus with him?”

Fuck me.

Where the hell was Aphrodite?

As if he had said the thought aloud, he heard a feminine cry. “Let me through!” Aphrodite pushed her way through the crowd. “Oh, my gods…” She sobbed as she embraced her son. “Eros, what happened?” She glanced up at Hephaestus, tears streaking down her cheeks. “How did you find him?”

“I didn’t. He found me. Or rather, you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He crashed-landed here and I found him. He was calling for you. He probably transported himself here unconsciously.”

“What’s wrong with him? Did his wings stop working? Why is he burned?”

“I’m not sure.” He pressed his lips together. “But those bruises and that bloody face happened before that crash.”

“Excuse me, I need to get through!” It was Apollo. “Oh, Jeeze…” His nose wrinkled distastefully. “Artemis, where can we take him?”

“To the lodge,” she replied. “You’ll have some privacy there.”

“I know where that is.” Hephaestus took Eros’s hand into his. “Thank you, Artemoula.” With a single thought, he transported himself, Eros, and Aphrodite to the common room in the lodge.

Apollo appeared right alongside them, and then knelt by Eros’s prone body. He placed his hands over Eros to begin healing him, starting with the cuts and bruises on his face. When he was done, he instructed Hephaestus to turn him around. They all gasped when they saw the extent of the damage there. It hadn’t been obvious from the front, but his back, specifically where his white wings were attached to his body, was burned so badly that only blackened bits of skin and exposed muscle were left.

Geri—who Hephaestus had only just noticed had followed them there—gagged aloud. “What the fuck happened to him?”

Aphrodite placed her hands over the wound, a golden glow emanating from her fingers. “It’s…I can’t do it,” she cried.

“The bruises and cuts on his face were physical. But this … this was done by magic,” Apollo said. “It’s going to take even more power to heal him completely.” He joined Aphrodite, his hands hovering over hers. “This is gonna take a while, unless…” He looked up at Hephaestus.

The god of the sun didn’t even finish the sentence when Hephaestus knelt down beside Aphrodite and planted his hand on her shoulder to share his power with her. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch, but perhaps she was too busy healing her son. His heart, however, did a flip the moment he felt the warmth of her skin.

“It’s working,” Apollo said. “A little bit more…”

The burned muscle returned to a normal healthy pink before new skin formed over it. The charred remains of the feathers sprouted into beautiful white plumes. Soon, Eros’s back and wings were back to normal.

Aphrodite’s shoulders slumped forward. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Wow, I always thought Eros would have those cute baby wings,” Geri whispered.

“He did, when he was a baby,” Apollo explained.

“They’re beautiful,” the she-wolf said.

Aphrodite flinched at the words, which made Hephaestus drop his arm to his side. No one else had noticed the goddess of love’s reaction, but he did, and it wasn’t just because his hand had lingered on her much too long. The wings, after all, were the only inheritance Eros received from his good-for-nothing biological father, Cyncus, the leader of the Geryons.

Eros’s body jerked. “What the—where—wha—” The wings retracted into his body, and he flipped onto his back. “I—Mama? H-Hephaestus?” He blinked a few times. “You’re here? Together?”

“That’s all you have to say? After—Eros, no!” She placed a hand on his chest when he attempted to sit up, but he brushed it away.

“I’m fine, Mama.” His fingers raked through his golden hair.

“Yeah, thanks to us,” Apollo snorted.

Eros’s head snapped up. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your life.”

“Not that you deserved it,” Geri added.

Eros’s silvery-blue eyes trained on her. “So, you’re the new goddess of the hunt? What a delectable creature you are. My, my, haven’t you done well for yourself, Apollo? I’m glad what happened with Daphne?—”

“Eros!” Hephaestus interrupted. The boy truly had a death wish, taunting the god of the sun by bringing up Daphne and hitting on his mate in the same breath.

Eros’s expression turned innocent. “What?”

Apollo merely rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. It’s all in the past.” He slipped an arm around Geri. “Come on, let’s go back to the party. I wanna know if Cade and Artemis are having boys or girls.” With that, the couple disappeared, but not before Geri glared at Eros.

“Artemis?” Eros scratched his head. “I thought she left Olympus for bumfuck-nowhere, Alaska.”

“She did,” Aphrodite said. “And we’re here in her and her mate’s territory.”

“What for?”

“Their baby shower, which you managed to ruin.”

“Me? How?”

Aphrodite rarely lost patience with her son, but Hephaestus could sense her growing frustration. “You came here, or rather, crashed,” he said. “Landed outside here in a ball of flame, like you’d been shot out of a cannon. What happened to you, s—Eros?” He bit his tongue, glad he didn’t call him son aloud. He hadn’t done that in millennia, not since Eros was a young boy.

“Who hurt you?” Aphrodite added. “And why?”

Eros paused, as if trying to remember. Shrugging, he sat up. “It was nothing.”

“Those burns weren’t nothing,” his mother countered.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re being dramatic, Mama. I’m sure I would have eventually been fine. It was just Drakkon fire.”

“ Just Drakkon fire?” Aphrodite exclaimed. “You damned well better get down on your knees and thank Apollo for helping you. Drakkonen fire wounds would have taken decades to heal.”

Formerly servants of the gods, Drakkons were winged, serpent-like creatures who used to pull the chariots of Mount Olympus. For their loyalty and contribution to winning the war, Zeus freed them from their drudgery and gave them human forms so they could live free. Kind of human, anyway. The transformed Drakkons were all males, over twenty feet in height, covered in diamond-like scales, and could breathe a fire so intense they could raze entire cities and make them burn for years. They mated with human women over the centuries, and while their current descendants were only seven feet tall, they were still formidable and retained their ability to spew a deadly magical flame.

“Why the hell would Drakkons hurt you?” Hephaestus asked.

“They weren’t trying to hurt me,” he said dryly. “They were trying to kill me.”

His mother paled. “Wh-what?”

“I said, try, Mama. They knew they couldn’t kill me.” He got to his feet, using his bow as a crutch. “I was just messing with them. But they do get protective during their mating season, and I may have used some of my arrows on a few of the human women they were courting.”

“I don’t even want to know what you did,” Aphrodite sighed. “Whatever will I do with you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Eros said.

“Yet in your time of need you wanted your mother,” Hephaestus snorted. “You called for her and thus transported yourself as close to her as possible.”

“Well—wait a minute.” His gaze shifted from Hephaestus to his mother and back again. “What are you both doing here, together?”

“We’re not together,” Aphrodite said quickly. “I was invited to the baby shower.”

“So was I.” And now he wished he hadn’t shown up at all. “And don’t try to change the subject.”

“I wasn’t.” He brushed his hands down himself. “Anyway, it sounds like everything’s fine. Do say hi to the happy parents-to-be.” And with that, he disappeared.

Aphrodite could only shake her head and cover her face with her hands. “I know he’s an adult. Millenia-old and a god at that but…”

“That doesn’t mean he stops being your child.” He raised a hand toward her as if to soothe her, but dropped his arm to his side when he realized what he was doing. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to say no to him.” And Hephaestus would know, because he himself could not say no to his ex-stepson.

As soon as the divorce was finalized, Hephaestus did everything he could to avoid Aphrodite. Eros, however, continued to come around to his workshop, mostly asking for help with improving or repairing his bow. The boy was the innocent party in this entire mess, so Hephaestus never turned him away, but he did not discourage him either.

“Th-thank you, by the way,” Aphrodite said. “For your assistance.”

He grunted. “Of course.”

Her expression softened. “Hephaestus, do you think?—”

“I should get back to my workshop,” he interrupted.

“But the party?—”

“I only came to deliver the gift. I wasn’t planning on staying.”

“I see.” A cool mask slipped over her face. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Not likely, he wanted to say, but instead gave her a nod before he transported himself to his workshop.

He took a deep breath, but the familiar surroundings and sounds did nothing to release the tightness in his chest. Instead, it only seemed to build, closing around his body like a giant fist.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he walked over to his work table and picked up a tool, determined to forget about the events of today.