Page 3 of Loved by Aphrodite (Gods and Beasts #4)
Chapter 3
Aphrodite
A phrodite lowered herself onto the edge of her couch, her gaze slipping past the sprawling New York skyline. The sky started to color the City in the break of day, but she barely noticed. An uneasy feeling crept into her chest, an unfamiliar gnawing that wouldn’t let go.
She sat back, crossing her arms as though to hold herself together. Something was off, something she couldn’t quite name.
Her mind was still swirling from seeing Hephaestus earlier that week. What happened to him? she thought, picturing his unkempt hair and scruffy beard. He’d always had that quiet strength, a presence that held steady like a mountain.
It wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way being in his presence had unearthed parts of herself she thought she’d let go of ages ago. Memories of those early days, back when she’d convinced herself she could be happy, came creeping back with an ache she didn’t want to face.
“Get a grip, Aphrodite,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “This isn’t like you.”
She was the goddess of love and passion, of life and beauty. She was supposed to be stronger than this—untouchable, even. Yet here she was, pulled under by memories and regrets, questioning the choices she’d made over the centuries. She could still feel the sting of her own heartbreak, the ache of endings she’d thought she’d moved past.
The feeling haunted her, refusing to let go. Was it simply nostalgia? Regret? Or was something else—something darker—looming on the horizon?
Trying to shake off the feeling, she wandered into her jungle room. Usually, the greenery, the earthy scents, the stillness of the place calmed her down. But today, not even the lush foliage could quiet her mind.
She paced through the room, trailing her fingers over the leaves, and found herself thinking about Eros. He’d been restless lately, slipping in and out of trouble as naturally as breathing. She frowned, feeling a pang of worry. When he was acting out like this, it usually led to something bad.
How much trouble would he get into this time? she thought, rubbing her temples.
She sat quietly on a bench, her fingers lightly tracing a philodendron leaf’s delicate white and green veins. Her thoughts remained troubled, circling back to Eros and that last fight.
She could still see him lying there bruised and battered, his usual fire dulled by exhaustion. Then there was the damage the Drakkon fire had done to his beautiful wings. For a short time after her separation from Cyncus, they had only reminded her of the cruel man who had hurt her. One of the reasons she had fallen in love with him was his beautiful white wings. But over time, she had learned to separate her feelings for the father from his son, and as Eros grew into a man and became immortal, his wings became a symbol of how they had overcome their past and gained their freedom.
The very image of Eros’s broken and burned body brought a sharp ache to her chest, and she closed her eyes, remembering the other gods standing around, their expressions a mix of impatience and disdain. Reckless, they’d murmured, eyes sliding to her, silently placing the blame.
Eros was wild, yes, and often unruly. But he was also passionate and loyal. He’d done everything to protect the people he loved, no matter the cost. Didn’t they understand? Couldn’t they see how much he was like his mother?
But Hephaestus…Hephaestus’s look had stung most of all. He’d been different this time, distant. There was no worry in his gaze, only disappointment as if he’d long stopped hoping Eros would change. But, even with that look, Hephaestus had stepped forward, setting aside his own judgment to tend to Eros when her powers had been spent. She didn’t have to ask; he had simply done it.
Why does it have to be so weird between us? They’d been apart for millennia, each going their own way, but he always seemed to be there, a presence she couldn’t escape. There was no love between them, only the tangle of old loyalties and memories. A sigh escaped her, heavy and long, as she slumped back, her eyes drifting unfocused to the greenery in front of her.
Why do things have to be so complicated with you, Hephaestus? Maybe because some ties never truly break.
The familiar hum of mortal prayers, usually soft like a gentle breeze, suddenly swelled in Aphrodite’s mind, surging into an overwhelming wave. She staggered, clutching her temples as gratitude, devotion, and love poured in from countless souls all at once. The voices overlapped, blurring together, amplifying until it felt like a roar in her head.
“ Ti symvaínei ?…what is happening?” she whispered, her hand gripping the edge of the seat to steady herself. She felt her magic pulse, responding erratically to the flood of energy. Her love magic—a power as old as she was, normally calm and controlled—now throbbed in a wild, chaotic rhythm, filling the room with intense, palpable heat. The plants around her seemed to react, their leaves unfurling and twisting, stretching toward her in a strange, desperate way, like they, too, were affected by the surge of power.
She reached out, focusing her energy and trying to calm the storm raging within her. Deep breaths, steady your power, but the voices grew louder, carrying emotions so potent they seemed to burn her from the inside.
“Enough!” she cried out, channeling her power outward, willing it to stabilize. But instead, it rebounded, multiplying, as if her love magic were feeding on itself.
And then she felt it—something dark, creeping through the flood of prayers. Beneath the gratitude and joy, there was something else, something raw and heavy…an edge of desperation. Mortals pleading for love, for connection, for a cure to their loneliness.
“Not just gratitude…they’re desperate.” The realization struck her, chilling her even through the heat of her own magic. There was no balance here, no natural ebb and flow. It was as though the world was hungry, ravenous for love.
This wasn’t normal, even for her. The mortal world had always been needy, yes, but not like this. She shuddered, a tremor of dread pulsing down her spine as the thought hit her: Something must have happened to shift the balance.
Her mind raced. Was this the work of another god? Someone meddling in her domain, or worse, tampering with the mortals’ own desires? She felt a fierce surge of protectiveness—this was her realm, her power, her magic that the world thrived on, and whoever was causing this chaos had crossed a line.
“I have to find out what’s going on,” she murmured.
She closed her eyes, focusing, and let her power flow outward, searching for the source of the disturbance. Instantly, a pull dragged her toward downtown—it was so strong she could practically feel it humming in her veins. She teleported in an instant, materializing on a street buzzing with energy, and found herself in front of the Manhattan City Hall.
She blinked in shock. A line of people stretched from the courthouse steps, down the sidewalk, and wrapped around the block, disappearing into the distance. Couples stood arm-in-arm, some in sparkling gowns, others in scrubs, office attire, or even pajamas. A palpable excitement thrummed through the crowd, and as Aphrodite got closer, she could hear snippets of their conversations.
“I just… I couldn’t wait another second to marry you,” a young man was saying, his eyes bright with tears.
“It’s like I woke up and knew today had to be the day,” murmured a woman to her fiancée, clutching her hand with fierce devotion.
Aphrodite’s heart twisted as she watched them. Usually, she would be thrilled to see so much love in the air. But this felt…unnatural. She could feel the raw edges of their need, the urgency behind their desire to wed now like their love itself was a fire that would consume them if not tamed.
She scanned the crowd, looking for a sign, for something that would tell her who or what had done this. This sudden surge of desire, this almost feverish impulse to marry—she hadn’t conjured it, and that was deeply unsettling. Centering herself, she summoned her magic to calm the torrent of emotions pressing around her. Then she reached out, gently, to the love pulsing in the line, trying to trace the source.
To her surprise, it didn’t lead to any single couple. Instead, it felt like a spell—like a web of magic cast over the entire city. And just beneath the surface of all that love, she could feel something else: longing, loneliness, desperation. This wasn’t love in its truest form. It was love forced, twisted by need. And whatever was behind it wasn’t just powerful; it was dangerous.
“Who would do this?” she murmured, her voice almost lost in the sea of voices around her. Her gaze traveled over the crowd again, catching sight of couples holding each other tightly as if they feared letting go. Her anger flowed as her thoughts turned to her fellow gods. Love and desire had many patrons, and not all were as careful as she was with mortal hearts.
She stared up at Manhattan City Hall, her arms crossed tightly, and her lips pressed into a thin, furious line. The buzz of news reporters filled the air, and she caught fragments of their excited reports. “…the City has set up express lanes for marriage licenses,” one of them was saying. “And later today, a mass marriage ceremony is planned right here on the courthouse steps. City officials estimate hundreds of couples will be taking part!”
She shook her head. Hundreds of couples? There was love, and then there was…this. Something wasn’t right.
Before she could dwell on it, a couple tapped her shoulder. “Excuse us,” the woman said, holding out her phone with an apologetic smile. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”
“Of course,” Aphrodite replied automatically, though her mind was still racing. The couple posed with radiant smiles, their arms around each other, proudly displaying matching tattoos on their wrists—a pair of stylized wings.
Her gaze lingered on the tattoos as she handed back the phone. Those wings were unmistakable. They were the symbol associated with Eros.
“Love those tattoos,” she said, managing a friendly smile. “How’d you two meet?”
“Oh, it’s kind of amazing, actually,” the man replied, beaming as he wrapped his arm around his partner. “We matched on that app yesterday—Winged, you know?”
“The tattoo is actually the app’s logo,” the woman added with a dreamy smile. “The app uses this special algorithm to match people. It’s all about compatibility and shared goals rather than that whole ‘soulmate’ thing.”
“But when we met…” the man continued, gazing at his partner with a soft, awed look. “It felt different, you know? Like there was something bigger at play. After just a few hours, we knew. That’s why we’re here today.”
“Oh, absolutely,” his wife agreed, holding out her wrist to show off her tattoo. “We got the ink, and we’re getting married all on the same day. When you know, you know.”
Aphrodite’s eyebrows shot up. “You…knew? Just like that?”
“Yes!” they said in unison, laughing.
“It’s like we’re destined for each other,” the woman added, her eyes shining. “We’re so grateful to have finally found our one true love.”
Aphrodite forced a warm smile, nodding as they walked off. Couples were flocking to the courthouse, lining up to tie the knot after only hours or days together. Sure, love at first sight happened—but not usually with that many couples in one day.
This wasn’t love, at least not how she defined it. She could sense something pushing these mortals, stirring their hearts into a frenzy that felt more forced than fated. She wanted to believe in what they were feeling—after all, she’d spent centuries fostering love and connection. But this? An app that bound people overnight, leading to tattoos and mass ceremonies…It was like love gone haywire, hyper-charged and superficial. It wasn’t real. It was obsession masquerading as fate.
Aphrodite’s thoughts sharpened. Eros, she thought, her mind churning. What in Olympus have you gotten into this time?
There was only one way to find out.
She pulled out her phone and tried to call her son, but it went straight to voicemail. Typical .
With a sigh, she scrolled through the app store, found Winged, and downloaded it herself. As the app loaded, she watched its slick, swirling welcome animation—a pair of wings unfurling against a pink and gold sky—and she felt a flicker of memory. It reminded her all too well of when Eros was learning to wield his power. The reckless way he’d shot love arrows in every direction had led to countless entanglements, including that famous drama with Apollo and Daphne, not to mention, his latest escapade with the mating Drakkons.
She didn’t know why, but the memory confirmed it: this was his doing, and it was getting out of control. She focused her energy and materialized in his Olympus home.
Inside, the familiar soft marble columns and airy spaces of the god’s domain were transformed into several rooms filled with the strange glow of screens, computers, and rows of servers humming in sync. LED lights pulsed, casting a dim but colorful glow around the room. Monitors displayed endless streams of data—lines connecting countless mortal couples in real-time, some showing the very courthouse line she’d just left and other places across the Upperworld, others scrolling with feedback, success rates, and the blinking heart icons of new matches.
But Eros himself was nowhere to be found.
She paced around, her frustration rising. This was beyond a playful experiment.
Her fingers brushed one of the screens that showed a live feed of mortals getting married, oblivious to the influence over them. Her jaw clenched as her eyes roamed over the room.
“Eros!” she called, her voice echoing off the marble walls. But there was only silence.
“Not hiding, are you?” She could feel her patience slipping. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re ready to answer for this, darling, because your mother is not pleased.”
She willed herself to stay calm. But as she continued to survey the tech-filled room, she couldn’t deny the tightening knot in her stomach.
Although she could tell Eros was behind it, she didn’t even know where to begin. The screens and jumbled mess of wires were like a foreign language to her. All this mortal technology—servers, screens, and blinking lights—might as well have been an art installation for all she understood. She sighed as she looked around. The app, the deluge of prayers, the chaos—it all screamed Eros. But she needed answers, and there was only one god she knew who could untangle this mess.
Hephaestus.
She hesitated, chewing her lip. He was her best shot if she wanted to keep things under wraps. He wouldn’t talk unless he had to, and he wasn’t one for gossip. Plus, of all the gods, he was the only one who might actually understand all these mortal objects. She glanced around the cluttered space one last time, willing herself not to get overwhelmed, and then closed her eyes to focus.
With a shimmer of golden light, she vanished, reappearing in a place she hadn’t seen in ages—a place she once called home. The marble foyer felt the same, and as she walked, she saw the decor untouched since she’d redecorated during those early days, when she and Hephaestus were still…well, married. She looked around, a bittersweet pang settling in her chest as she took in the space. Some things really don’t change , she thought, glancing at the perfectly arranged columns, polished statues, and golden details she’d once insisted on.
“I guess he still spends most of his time in the workshop,” she muttered to herself, knowing all too well where she’d find him.
With a sigh, she strode up to the double doors leading to his workshop and pressed the door cam button. The tiny camera light blinked on, and a moment later, his voice came through the speaker, more surprised than welcoming.
“Aphrodite?” He sounded genuinely shocked. “What are you doing here?”
“Let me in,” she demanded.
There was a pause. She could almost imagine him standing there, staring at the screen with that ever-thoughtful look, weighing whether to open the door.
Finally, the door clicked, unlocking with a heavy mechanical sound. She pushed it open and stepped into the dimly lit space, immediately hit with the familiar scent of metal, wood, and the faint warmth of smelting fires. Hephaestus stood a few feet away, wiping his hands on a cloth, his usually stoic face a mixture of surprise and wariness.
“Aphrodite,” he said, watching her as she closed the door behind her. “You don’t usually visit unannounced.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “I need your help, Hephaestus. It’s about Eros.”
He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “What has he done now?”
She let out a breath. “Something with mortals and… technology. It’s beyond me—rows of computers, screens, data flowing everywhere. He’s got mortals thinking they’re in love overnight, pushing them to marry. And I can feel the magic spiraling out of control.”
“And you want me to take a look.”
“Yes,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “If there’s anyone who can make sense of all that tech nonsense he’s mixed with magic, it’s you.”
He watched her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he nodded, setting the cloth aside. “Alright. Let’s go find out what your son has been up to.”
Hephaestus walked briskly down the hall, his strides purposeful, and she trailed behind him, the sound of his cybernetic lower leg echoing in the hallway with a faint, rhythmic whir and metallic click. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in millennia but still felt oddly familiar, like a memory buried deep in her mind.
Her eyes wandered over his broad shoulders and sturdy frame as they walked. He was still unmistakably Hephaestus—powerful and deliberate in his movements—but time had left its marks. His long hair was a wild tangle, and the scruff on his jaw gave him a rugged look she wasn’t used to. And he was wearing a loose, grease-stained shirt paired with worn cargo shorts, and scuffed boots. Yet, beneath it all, he was the same—steady, resilient, a god shaped by fire and toil.
She followed him into a cavernous room she didn’t remember at all. She glanced around at the space with its rows of sleek monitors, processors humming, and blue lights casting a sharp glow over the workstations.
“This wasn’t here before,” she muttered, still trying to make sense of it.
He gave her a wry glance over his shoulder. “Well, it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, and mortals have been busy with their tech,” he retorted, not bothering to mask his amusement. She grimaced, biting back a response and reminding herself that she needed him for this.
“Here’s the app,” she said, handing him her phone, which displayed Winged’s home screen.
He tapped through the app quickly, his brow furrowing as he studied it. Then, without a word, he turned to one of the computers and began typing, pulling up screens full of code. Images from the app appeared on the massive wall of screens, each highlighting different parts: the algorithm, lines of code, intricate graphic designs, and even bits of location data.
She watched, a little mesmerized by how naturally he navigated the complex digital world. This realm of screens and codes was entirely foreign to her, but he moved through it with ease, uncovering layers of the app she hadn’t even known existed.
After a few moments of silence, he gestured to a line of code. “It’s a simple enough algorithm… but there’s something else mixed in. This—” he pointed to a block of symbols interwoven with the code, “is not mortal-made. Eros has somehow fused magic and tech to mimic matchmaking, but it’s…stronger.”
“So, he really went all in this time,” she sighed, folding her arms.
“More than that.” Hephaestus leaned back, frowning at the screen. “It’s like he’s embedded his own power in the code. The algorithm is less about compatibility and more about igniting attachment—fast. The mortals using this app aren’t just finding each other; they’re being pulled together, like metal to a magnet.”
Her stomach twisted. “So, it’s not just their choice—he’s driving them.”
He nodded. “That’s why it feels overwhelming to you. This app is amping up your power too. But it’s out of balance, like a fire without a steady fuel.”
“Can you undo it?”
He paused, his gaze thoughtful. “Not without him.” Hephaestus’s fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping out sequences that made lines of code stream across the expanse of screens.
Then he glanced at her over his shoulder, brows knitting as he studied her. “Why are you helping him?” he asked, almost accusingly. “You know how he is. This isn’t the first time he’s messed around with mortals.”
“I don’t want him to get into trouble, especially not over something this reckless,” She turned her gaze toward him and took a steadying breath. “Thousands of mortals are involved this time. You know how the council feels about that.”
He gave a dry laugh. “Maybe he deserves a bit of trouble. Could do him some good to see there are consequences for once.”
“You can’t be like that with him. You’re one of the two beings in the world who truly understand him. And the only other one who’s cared enough to look after him.”
He paused, his fingers resting on the keys as he absorbed her words. “Fine,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll help you.” He tapped a few more keys, and the screens flickered as he burrowed deeper into the app’s programming.
He stopped and looked up at her. “I can’t take his magic out completely without undoing the app’s core functions. It’s like…his power is fused with it.”
She frowned. “What can we do, then?”
She watched Hephaestus, his fingers flying over the keys, his brow furrowed in concentration. The screens flickered, showing data she didn’t understand, lines of code and algorithms that looked indecipherable.
He groaned, shaking his head in frustration. “This app is way more complicated than I expected,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’ll try to use my magic and see if I can break into it, but I need time to process all this.”
A fresh wave of worry hit her. Eros’s impulsiveness usually amused her, but now, with mortals involved, it felt like too much. She must have let her anxiety show because Hephaestus looked over, his expression softening.
“It’ll be okay,” he said gently. “I just need a couple of hours to pull things apart and find a safe workaround.”
She let out a small, tense sigh. The tech-heavy room felt stifling, filled with the hum of machines, the glow of screens, and the faint whiff of oil and metal that clung to everything Hephaestus touched. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat and glancing away. “I’m not going to sit here looking over your shoulder. I’ll be in the garden. Text me when you’re done.”
He nodded. “I will.”
Without another word, she turned and headed down the hallway, the click of her heels loud in the silence. She glanced back once, but he was already focused again, his gaze intent on the screens.
As Aphrodite stepped into the garden, she took a slow, calming breath, letting the familiar scents of blooming jasmine and wild roses wash over her. The chaotic energy she’d felt at City Hall and then in Hephaestus’s tech-filled workshop faded just a little here. She closed her eyes, focusing on the softness of the earth beneath her feet and the sun’s warmth on her skin.
Despite the years and the distance between them, Hephaestus was still a steady force. No matter what stood between them, he had always been someone she could count on when things went wrong—someone who would show up, someone who would care enough to help Eros, even if it meant digging through code all night. She could sense his lingering resentment for her and their tangled past, but beneath that, she knew he still cared. Maybe not for her in the way he once did, but for Eros. That loyalty was part of what she still admired about him, whether or not she’d ever say it out loud to him.
Turning to gaze out over the garden, she sighed. Her son had a gift for pushing the limits, but somehow, they would make this right. For now, she stayed among the blooms, letting the quiet settle around her, trusting that when she went back inside, Hephaestus would have done what he always did: found a way forward.