Page 7 of Loved by Aphrodite (Gods and Beasts #4)
Chapter 7
Hephaestus
H ephaestus woke with a start, the sharp chime of his phone cutting through the quiet room. Groaning, he reached for it blindly, his hand fumbling on the nightstand until his fingers brushed the cool metal. As he shifted back onto his pillow, his eyes fell on Aphrodite.
She lay peacefully, her hair splayed across the pillow in soft waves, her lips slightly parted. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe her, though it was the first word that always came to his mind.
He let himself stare for a moment, memories of the night before flooding back. They’d finally crossed a line they’d danced around for centuries. The way she had kissed him, touched him, trusted him—it was more than he had imagined. And it had been…perfect.
But now, in the light of morning, reality crept in. He wasn’t sure what this meant, what came next. They had fallen asleep wrapped around each other, exhaustion pulling them under, but now the questions lingered in the quiet. Was this a beginning or just a fleeting moment?
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it with overthinking.
Not yet, anyway.
His phone beeped again and he looked at it, the glow of the screen harsh in the darkness, but when he read the message, his mind sharpened instantly.
Access established. Decryption underway.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat up, the hum of his cybernetic leg engaging as he stood. The workshop. He needed to get there now. With a flash of golden light, he reappeared in his domain, surrounded by the hum of his machines and the faint, acrid scent of molten metal and circuitry.
His gaze shot to the largest screen on the far wall, where the notification played out in real time. Streams of code, complex diagrams, and system layers unraveled before his eyes. This was what he’d been waiting for—the breakthrough he needed to crack the app and figure out what Eros had done.
A wave of pride surged through him. Aphrodite’s magic had worked perfectly, slipping past the app’s defenses, and giving him the opening he needed. Her power had always been awe-inspiring, even in its subtler forms, and he couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly she wielded it.
He should call to let her know it worked but thought it was best to let her sleep. He’d tell her when he had more concrete answers—when he could offer something more than just progress.
For now, he buried himself in the work, letting the screens and the code take all of his focus. Anything to keep his thoughts from drifting to the goddess of love.
But, of course, that was a stupid goal.
He leaned back, staring at the cascading streams of data on the screens, but his mind wasn’t on the app. It drifted, unbidden, to last night.
For years, he had kept what he felt for her buried beneath layers of resentment and careful detachment. But the walls had come down. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment that stayed with him; it was how she had looked at him like he was more than just the god of the forge, more than the shadow of their complicated past. It had felt like they could be something real.
He dragged a hand through his hair, hating how he felt. Frustration simmered beneath the surface, mixing with something deeper—fear, maybe? Why did he feel this way? Why did doubt cling to him after something so perfect? They should’ve talked last night and laid everything bare while the moment still held its clarity. Now, it was like standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff, the ground unsteady beneath him, unsure if they would fall together or find something solid to stand on.
He leaned against the workbench, absentmindedly fiddling with a small gear in his hand. His mind wandered back to Thessaly, to a time when life had been simpler but no less challenging. Back then, he and Aphrodite had been consumed with raising Eros, trying to give the boy a sense of stability despite the stormy circumstances of his early years.
The boy had been an unexpected variable. He was small, quiet, and watchful—an odd juxtaposition of cherubic innocence and the untapped potential of a godling. At first, Eros kept his distance, observing Hephaestus from the shadows of doorways or the far edges of the workshop. Hephaestus noticed but said nothing as he had no intention of forcing a bond.
One afternoon, while Hephaestus was bent over a drafting table sketching ideas for a new prosthetic leg, he heard the soft patter of small footsteps. He didn’t look up, allowing the boy his space.
But this time, Eros didn’t stop at the threshold. He walked up to the table, his big, curious eyes fixed on the design. “What’s that?”
Hephaestus glanced up, surprised. “This?” He gestured to the blueprint. “It’s a prosthetic leg. For me.”
Eros frowned and pointed to the prosthesis, which rested nearby on the bench, detached for maintenance. “That one’s not good?”
“It’s good. Very good, actually. It’s infused with magic, so it works well. But I’m working on something different now—one that doesn’t rely so much on magic, but on pure engineering.”
Eros’s brows furrowed as he considered this. “Why? Isn’t magic easier?”
“Sometimes,” Hephaestus admitted. “But not always better. Magic fades or falters. Engineering? It’s reliable. It’s something I can improve, piece by piece.”
Eros leaned closer, his fingers tracing the drawing. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Hephaestus said gently, setting down his tools. “I was born this way. It’s not like someone who loses a limb in battle—it’s just how I’ve always been. The prosthetic is a way to make things easier, not to fix something broken.”
Eros’s gaze lingered on the leg before he looked up at Hephaestus. From that day on, Eros began to visit more often, his initial shyness giving way to cautious curiosity. He’d tinker with metal scraps, ask questions about tools, and even attempt to sketch his own ideas.
Hephaestus remembered the first time Eros showed interest in a bow and arrow. It had been after a hunting trip, one Hephaestus had reluctantly agreed to take him on, thinking it might help channel some of the boy’s endless energy.
“Do you think I can get a rabbit next time?” Eros had asked, his young face lit with determination despite having missed every target that day.
“You almost got one,” Hephaestus had replied, crouching to Eros’s eye level. “It’s all about focus. If you can learn that, you’ll be unstoppable.”
Eros had grinned, the kind of unguarded, toothy smile that always caught Hephaestus off guard. It reminded him that despite everything, Eros was still a kid—a kid who had seen too much but somehow hadn’t lost his spark.
Hephaestus had thrown himself into crafting a bow suitable for a child, one that was durable but lightweight. Aphrodite, meanwhile, had focused on teaching Eros to handle his emotions. She’d sit with him for hours, her voice calm but firm.
“Your feelings aren’t bad, agóri mou ,” she’d told Eros during one of his tantrums. “But you have to learn how to steer them. Otherwise, they’ll steer you.”
Their parenting styles couldn’t have been more different—her warmth balancing his practicality—but it worked. Over time, they began to see the changes in Eros.
Hephaestus had found a tutor for the boy, a mortal archer with a reputation for patience. Under his guidance, Eros began to channel not just his energy but his thoughts and emotions into his practice. He went from clumsy and frustrated to focused and determined.
One evening, as Hephaestus worked in the forge, Eros burst in, holding up a rabbit. “Look, Hephaestus! I did it!”
Hephaestus had turned, his heart swelling with pride despite himself. “You did. Nice work, son.”
Aphrodite had appeared in the doorway, her expression a mix of pride and relief. She’d ruffled Eros’s hair, her eyes meeting Hephaestus’s for a brief moment. There had been something unspoken in that look—a rare moment of shared understanding between them.
As time passed, Eros improved with his aim, focus, and temperament, but his moments of recklessness still shone through like cracks in a polished surface. Those were when Hephaestus and Aphrodite came together, rallying around him, and guiding him through his struggles with steady hands and gentle words.
Hephaestus remembered one particularly wild moment when Eros, frustrated with a lesson, had thrown his bow down and stormed off to the cliffs near their home. Aphrodite had been the one to find him, her calm voice breaking through his stony silence, while Hephaestus waited nearby, giving them space but ready to step in if needed. Moments like those showed how much they both cared for the boy—and, inadvertently, brought them closer together.
Raising Eros was how they truly got to know each other. Late into the nights, when the boy was finally sleeping, they’d sit together and talk. They discussed Eros’s progress, his struggles, and what to do next. But as the months turned into years, their conversations drifted to other topics. They talked about their lives before Thessaly, their hopes, and even their frustrations.
Soon enough, there were unguarded moments between them. Aphrodite would laugh at something Hephaestus said, her laughter bright and unrestrained. He’d catch her glancing at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. For Hephaestus, those moments felt like small treasures, even if they were fleeting.
But guilt always shadowed his heart. He couldn’t forget that their marriage was an arrangement, not a choice. Aphrodite was tied to him because of Zeus, not because she wanted to be. He often found himself questioning her motives, especially when he caught her staring out toward the horizon as if searching for something—or someone—beyond Thessaly.
Still, he couldn’t help but marvel at her. Her beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just that. It was her resilience, her determination to stay for Eros’s sake, that left him in awe. Hephaestus knew her love for her son anchored her to their home and to him. And while it stung that her reasons weren’t rooted in affection for him, he couldn’t fault her for it. Eros was a handful, but he was also lovable in his own chaotic way.
They were an unusual family—bound together by circumstance, held together by mutual care for a boy who deserved better than what fate had given him. And though Hephaestus sometimes had felt like an outsider in his own home, he couldn’t deny that they had created something fragile but real. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.
Those days felt like a lifetime ago. Yet, even now, he couldn’t deny the strange, bittersweet comfort they brought him.
He shook his head. There was no time to dwell on the past—whatever his feelings, whatever the tangled mess between them, there were more pressing matters to focus on. Eros had unleashed something chaotic, and Aphrodite had trusted him to fix it. He would step up and do what he could.
He leaned forward and refocused on the lines of code scrolling across his monitor. Aphrodite’s magic had done its job perfectly, opening the app’s inner workings like a door left ajar. Her power never ceased to amaze him. Even when she wasn’t in the room, she left her mark, as undeniable as the warmth of the sun.
His fingers moved deftly over the keyboard, lines of his own counter-code seamlessly integrating into the app’s framework. He was close—so close he could almost taste victory.
But just as the final layer unraveled, a new window popped up, bold and unyielding: “Biometric Authorization Required.”
“ Ti sto kaló? ” He groaned. “Of course,” he muttered, combing a hand through his dark hair.
The biometric requirement wasn’t surprising, but it was infuriating. Whoever designed this app had thought ahead. He tapped a few keys, bypassing some rudimentary blocks to pull up a profile on the app’s creator. The name Matt Anchises appeared, along with a few scattered details.
He frowned. Anchises…The name pinged in the back of his mind like a distant bell, but he couldn’t quite place it. Shrugging it off for the moment, he did a quick internet search, expecting to find an ego-inflated tech genius flaunting his success. What he found instead was a missing person report.
“Matthew Anchises, 34, tech entrepreneur and founder of the matchmaking app ‘Winged,’ has been reported missing. Authorities have no leads.”
“Damn it,” he swore under his breath. Missing. This was getting more complicated by the minute.
He tapped rapidly at his keyboard, switching gears to track Anchises’s properties, real estate holdings, last known locations, financial transactions—anything that could give him a lead. A map of the City appeared, with dots representing Anchises’s known properties. Most were high-end apartments or office spaces, but one stood out: an older, seemingly abandoned building in Brooklyn.
He stared at the screen. “This guy better be there,” he muttered.
For a moment, he considered calling Aphrodite. She’d want to know, and she was probably better at dealing with people. But she was still asleep, and he was just following a hunch, so he thought it better to let her rest.
He got ready to leave and sent her a quick text: “Cracked the app. Found a lead.” He hit send, pocketed his phone, and made his way to the address tied to Matt Anchises.
The warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic of another era. Its rusted exterior was streaked with grime, and faded lettering on the side hinted at some long-defunct shipping company. Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of oil and damp wood. Shafts of light pierced through broken windows, illuminating floating dust motes. The cavernous space was filled with the echoes of his own movements—every step, every scuff of his boots against the concrete floor reverberated as though the building itself were alive. Empty pallets and rusted metal shelving lined the walls, and in one corner, a pile of debris suggested recent disuse. He moved cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of life or activity. The place was barren, stripped of anything valuable.
He frowned and stopped near the center of the warehouse and pulled out his phone. The lack of clues gnawed at him, and he muttered under his breath, “Where the hell are you hiding?” He scrolled through his notes, trying to piece together the next step when his phone suddenly rang.
The loud, unexpected sound startled him, and he nearly dropped it. Without thinking, he answered the video call. “Aphrodite?” he said as her image filled the screen. His heart lurched involuntarily. Even through a pixelated video feed, she looked stunning, her curls framing a furious face.
“Where are you?” she demanded, her tone sharper than a knife.
He opened his mouth to reply, but before a single word left his lips, she materialized beside him in a burst of light and power. “What the—” he managed, stumbling back slightly in surprise.
Aphrodite didn’t give him a chance to recover. “You’re out here, poking around in some creepy abandoned building, and you didn’t think to tell me? Do you even realize how dangerous this is? What if there’s a trap? Or worse—what if Eros isn’t involved, and….”
Her words came out in a torrent, her frustration and worry spilling over in waves. He knew this side of her well: a mix of righteous anger and fear she rarely showed anyone. But he also knew she could spiral if left unchecked.
And he was tired of standing by.
He stepped forward and grasped her by the arms, his touch firm but careful. She stopped mid-rant, startled by the sudden contact. Her eyes widened as his face moved closer.
Then he kissed her.
Her initial surprise melted into softness as she leaned into him, her hands tentatively gripping his shirt. The kiss was gentle, telling her without words that everything would be okay. His lips moved against hers with care, steady and deliberate, and when they pulled apart, the air between them seemed to hum, their foreheads gently touched, as they shared the quiet, intimate moment.
“If you’ll let me talk,” he said against her lips, “I can explain everything.”
She blinked, then nodded, her breath shaky. “Okay,” she whispered.
He pulled back, still holding her arms gently, “The app asked for the biometric information of Matt Anchises. He’s the app’s creator. This building is one of his properties. I thought maybe he’d be hiding out here—or at least left a clue.”
“And?” she asked, glancing around. Her voice was steadier now, though her cheeks still held the faintest flush.
He shook his head. “It’s empty. But something feels off. Anchises is missing, and I have a bad feeling it’s not by choice.”
She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. “So, you came here alone, hoping to stumble across answers?”
“I didn’t exactly plan to stumble,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m trying to keep this quiet, remember?”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Next time, tell me.”
He nodded, his grip on her arms loosening. “Next time.”
They stood in the warehouse’s stillness a beat longer, and he could feel the tension between them easing. She stepped back from him, her arms crossed and her expression impatient. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her sharp gaze sweeping the empty space. “He’s obviously not here.”
“Anchises has a house in Newport. I was planning on going there next.”
With a small, confident smile, she reached out and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”
Before he could protest or question her, the familiar jolt of divine teleportation overtook him. The warehouse vanished, replaced by the opulent, windswept solitude of a mansion perched on a bluff.
He barely glanced at the mess as they stepped into the house. Papers and mail were scattered across the counter, dishes sat unwashed in the sink, and a chair was tipped over in the corner. It didn’t scream crime scene —it screamed chaos. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Doesn’t look like much of a fight,” he muttered, scanning the room. “More like he left in a hurry or didn’t care to clean up.”
As he began methodically searching for clues, Aphrodite stood by the large windows. “Wow, that’s a great view.”
He grunted, still focused on the mess. “Yeah, sure,” he said, distracted.
She wandered farther in, her steps slow and deliberate. “Hang on,” she said, heading to the sliding glass doors.
He watched as she slid them open and stepped out onto the deck, the sea breeze immediately tousling her hair. He followed her, the faint scent of saltwater and the rhythmic crash of the surf filling the air.
Out in the backyard, the view stretched wide—an endless expanse of ocean sparkling under the midday sun. Aphrodite leaned on the railing, her posture graceful, as if the breeze itself was part of her; her eyes surveyed the shore below. He noticed how her expression shifted, the faint furrow of her brow signaling that she’d spotted something, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line as she looked at the water.
“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer.
She held up a small and iridescent object that caught the sunlight, glinting like a shard of polished glass. “It’s a scale,” she said with certainty. “A siren’s scale.”
He frowned, taking in her words as his gaze shifted from the scale in her hand to the ocean beyond. “You’re saying sirens took him?”
She straightened, nodding as she brushed back her windblown hair. “It makes sense. Sirens have a habit of getting involved in situations where they shouldn’t.”
He exhaled heavily, turning his attention back to the horizon. “Great. Now we’re dealing with unpredictable sea creatures. This just keeps getting better.”
“The sirens are in Sirenum Scopuli. If they took Anchises, that’s where we should go first.”
“Sirenum Scopuli? You mean the jagged death trap surrounded by monster waves and murderous singing?”
“Yes, that one. Unless you have a better idea?” She gave him a pointed glare.
“No, no better idea. Just a strong aversion to being drowned and lured to my doom.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re with me. No one’s luring anyone anywhere.”
“Fine,” he muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if this turns into a disaster.”
She stepped closer, her expression softening slightly. “It won’t,” she said, her voice quieter now. “We’ll handle this.”
He nodded, her confidence grounding him despite his apprehension. He reached out his hand, and she took it without hesitation. They disappeared, reappearing moments later on the rocky shores of Sirenum Scopuli.
The roar of the water hit them immediately, a thunderous sound that reverberated through the air. The wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of salt and danger. The rugged cliffs loomed ahead, their dark surfaces slick with seawater.
He looked around, his gaze wary. “Well, this is cheerful.”
She ignored his comment, her eyes scanning the horizon. “The leader of the sirens is here somewhere. Let’s move.”
Reluctantly, he followed her toward the cliffs, the sound of the crashing waves echoing in his ears like a constant warning.
Before he could take a second step, a lilting voice floated on the breeze. “Visitors, how rare.”
A siren emerged, her golden hair shimmering even in the overcast light. Her sea-green eyes locked onto Hephaestus, and her smile was like the first warm rays of dawn. “And such a strong, handsome visitor,” she purred, stepping closer. “What brings you to our shores, oh mighty God of the Forge?”
Hephaestus blinked, feeling a strange pull in his chest as if the siren’s voice had sunk into his very bones. He opened his mouth to respond, but a sharp pain in his arm made him whirl around.
Aphrodite’s nails dug into his bicep, her grip like iron. Her face was the picture of annoyance, her jaw tight, her lips pursed, and her gaze piercing. “I’ll talk to the sirens.” Her voice dripped with venom.
The siren’s smile dimmed slightly, her eyes flicking to Aphrodite, then back to Hephaestus, as though sizing up the situation. “Of course,” she said smoothly, stepping back with a faintly apologetic tilt of her head. “We meant no offense.”
Aphrodite released her hold on Hephaestus, brushing past him without a backward glance. “Stay here,” she ordered over her shoulder, her tone making it clear that this was not a suggestion.
Hephaestus sighed, rubbing his arm where her nails had left faint crescents in his skin. This is going to be fun.
He watched her approach the siren with the kind of authority only Aphrodite could command. Her anger was as unrelenting as the thunderous roar around them, and even the siren seemed to hesitate.
“She’ll handle it,” Hephaestus murmured, half to reassure himself. But even as he said it, he felt a pang of unease.
Aphrodite demanded to see Melodia, their leader. The siren before her smiled. “Melodia does not meet with just anyone. Perhaps you should?—”
“Spare me,” Aphrodite snapped, sharp enough to cut through the siren’s enchantment. “Your weak excuse for power doesn’t work on me. Tell Melodia to come here. Now.”
The siren blinked, her confident smile wavering. Before she could respond, a smooth, resonant voice echoed from the shadows. “Aphrodite, to what do we owe the honor?”
The siren materialized near the jagged rocks, her silvery hair shimmering under the muted light filtering through the stormy sky. She tilted her head with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Aphrodite wasted no time. “Melodia, I don’t have the patience for games today,” she snapped, holding up the green scale between her fingers. “I found this at Matt Anchises’s home. Tell me where he is.”
Melodia’s eyes flicked to the scale, her expression unreadable. “And if I don’t?” she asked, her tone carrying a mock sweetness.
“Then I’ll make sure you regret wasting my time.”
Melodia’s smirk faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure. “You’ve always had such fire,” she mused. “Fine. If you want your answers, you’ll have to solve this.”
She straightened, her haunting eyes gleaming as she began to speak in a rhythmic tone:
“In a place where the land kisses the sea,
Where the sun once set on your family,
The truth is buried, a tangled plea,
Look to the shadows where memories flee.”
Hephaestus frowned, glancing at Aphrodite. “A riddle? Really?”
Aphrodite rolled her eyes. “You sirens love your theatrics,” she said, exasperated.
Melodia chuckled, her laughter echoing eerily off the cliffs. “Consider it a parting gift,” she said, slipping back into the shadows as if she had never been there.
Aphrodite stared after her, the tension in her shoulders obvious. “Thessaly,” she murmured. Her gaze met his. “Looks like we’re going back to where it all started.”
“Great,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Because nothing screams fun like revisiting the past.”