Page 9 of Loved by Aphrodite (Gods and Beasts #4)
Chapter 9
Aphrodite
A phrodite lay against Hephaestus, her cheek pressed to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her. Her body was still humming, a pleasant ache from the sheer number of times he had brought her over the edge.
She stretched lazily, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Well, it’s official. We really were idiots for not saying how we felt. Think of all the amazing sex we could’ve been having this whole time.”
Hephaestus let out a deep, rumbling laugh that made her grin wider. He tilted his head to look down at her, his fingers brushing along her arm. “You’re not wrong,” he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “But in my defense, I thought you’d laugh in my face if I told you how I felt. And not the kind of laughing I enjoy hearing.”
She snorted and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. “Me? Laugh at you?” She shook her head, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. “If anything, I thought you’d think I was being dramatic and ignore me.”
Hephaestus chuckled, his hand sliding up to cup her face. “We really were idiots, weren’t we?”
“The absolute worst,” she agreed with mock seriousness.
He kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment. “But maybe we were just waiting for the right time.”
She smirked. “You’re just saying that to sound deep.”
“Maybe,” he said, grinning back at her. “But if it means more mornings like this, I’ll say whatever you want.”
She laughed, pressing a kiss to his jawline before settling back on the pillows. “I wonder what this house has planned for breakfast.”
He sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I think this house knows what we need.” He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at her, his grin widening. “Breakfast is served.”
She raised an eyebrow, curious, but not quite ready to leave the warmth of their bed. He stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with an ease that made her heart flutter.
She snapped her fingers, and by the time they reached the table, they were dressed and ready to face whatever the house threw at them.
The table was already set with an array of food, making her mouth water. Fresh fruit, yogurt, cheesy tiropita, and a pitcher of nectar sparkled in the morning light.
“I guess the house knows how to set a mood,” she said, sitting down and picking up a piece of fruit.
Hephaestus laughed, pouring them both a drink. “Maybe it’s not so bad being stuck here after all.”
After finishing the surprisingly delicious breakfast that the house had provided, she leaned back in her chair, savoring the last sip of her coffee. She glanced at Hephaestus, who was busy polishing off the plate of fresh fruit and felt an odd sense of ease. The tension that had crackled between them the day before seemed to have dissipated, replaced by something softer, more natural.
“Well,” she said, standing and brushing imaginary crumbs from her hands. “I suppose I’ll check the door again. Who knows? Maybe the house has decided we’ve suffered enough and unlocked it.”
“Good luck with that,” he said, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t mind suffering a little more.”
She waved him off, striding toward the door with determination. “You’ll see. Maybe it’s had a change of heart.”
But just as she reached for the handle, a sharp pop echoed through the room. She spun around to see a flash of golden light near the fireplace. When it faded, a large book bound in shimmering leather sat on the mantel, its cover gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
“What is—” she started, taking a cautious step toward it.
Hephaestus was already on his feet, his chair scraping on the floor. “Looks like the house has something else in store for us.”
She eyed the book suspiciously. “Of course it does.”
Hephaestus chuckled, stopping beside her. “You going to open it, or should I?”
She glanced at him, then back at the book. “Fine. But if it spits out anything weird, I’m blaming you.”
With that, she reached for the book, its surface warm under her fingertips. The moment she touched it, the cover flipped open on its own, and the pages began to turn rapidly, glowing faintly as they did. Finally, it settled on a blank page.
Then, in elegant script, words began to appear:
“To move forward, you must reflect on the past. Recall what was once shared and lost. Write your truth, and only then will the house release its hold on you.”
She crossed her arms. “Write our truth? What is this, divine couples therapy?”
Hephaestus smirked faintly. “Seems like the house thinks we need it.”
“Fantastic,” she rolled her eyes. “Nothing like being trapped in a house that doubles as a therapist.”
But as she turned to look at him, she caught the flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe even vulnerability. It made her pause, her irritation softening slightly.
She sighed, picking up the quill that had appeared beside the book. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
But when she tried to write, the quill wouldn’t move. The book shimmered, and new words appeared:
“Only the truth will do.”
“Well, that’s annoying,” she muttered, tossing the quill to Hephaestus. “Your turn.”
He took the quill and hesitated. His hand hovered over the page before he began to write. Slowly, the letters formed a sentence: “I liked our time here in Thessaly.”
She blinked, her breath catching. “You did?”
He looked at her, his expression unguarded for once. “Yeah. It wasn’t easy, raising Eros, but…it felt like we were building something real. Even if it wasn’t how either of us planned.”
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the page. “I liked it too,” she admitted softly. “It was the closest I’ve ever felt to…home.”
Hephaestus looked surprised, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he handed her the quill.
This time, the quill moved freely in her hand. She wrote: “I miss how you made me laugh.”
He stared at the words as they appeared on the page, and his lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “You miss that?”
She shrugged, trying to play it off, but her cheeks warmed. “You’re funny when you’re not trying so hard to be serious.”
He laughed—a low, warm sound that sent a shiver through her. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”
The quill floated out of her hand, hovering above the book as if inviting him to write again. He took it and added: “You never gave up on Eros, even when I thought it was impossible.”
Her heart squeezed. “He’s my son. I couldn’t give up on him. And neither did you.”
They continued, trading the quill back and forth, each revealing something they had kept hidden. Memories of Thessaly, of quiet nights by the fire, of laughter and arguments, of moments when they had felt closer than they dared to admit.
When the final truth was written— “I cared more than I ever let on,” —the book glowed brightly and vanished, leaving a warmth in the air.
Aphrodite looked at Hephaestus, her chest tight with emotions she wasn’t ready to name. “So…what now?”
He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers. “Maybe we stop pretending we don’t care,” he said softly.
She looked up at him, her gaze locking with his. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly.
Hephaestus cupped her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her skin.
And then, as if drawn together by an unseen force, their lips met—a kiss full of all the unspoken words and lingering feelings that had been buried for so long.
It started tentative, as though it was something too fragile to be named. But then it deepened, the restraint melting away under the weight of all they’d held back. Aphrodite slid her hand up to his neck, responding with a fervor that surprised even her. There was no room for pride, no room for their usual defenses—it was raw, honest, and overwhelming. The heat between them spoke of desire, but the way their lips moved together was something more. It was a connection, a silent confession of emotions too tangled to unravel.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling. She searched his eyes, her heart thundering, and she knew he felt it too—the weight of what had just passed between them, the years of distance finally bridged in one moment of vulnerability.
She pulled him in for another kiss, her fingers threading through his hair, intent on savoring the moment. But before she could deepen it, the floor beneath them shifted with a sudden, smooth motion.
They broke apart, startled, as the house itself seemed to come alive again, its walls humming with an unseen force.
The floor guided them with gentle but insistent nudges toward the front door. “Hey—” Hephaestus muttered, stumbling slightly as he tried to regain his footing.
“Excuse me!” she said, glaring at the ceiling as if the house could see her indignation. “We’re not done here!”
But the house didn’t care. The front door swung open with a creak, a gust of fresh air rushing in to meet them. Before either of them could protest further, the floor gave one last push, and they were shoved out onto the porch.
The door slammed shut behind them with a definitive thud.
“How rude!” she exclaimed, spinning around to glare at the house. “What about Matt Anchises? Are we supposed to just figure this out on our own?”
Before Hephaestus could reply, there was another pop, the sound sharp and echoing in the stillness. They turned to see a small, glowing orb hovering in front of them. It pulsed with light before exploding into a shower of golden sparks.
From the sparks, a folded piece of parchment materialized and floated down to Aphrodite’s waiting hand.
She unfolded it quickly, “It’s a clue,” she frowned. She glanced at Hephaestus, holding it up for him to see. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?”
Hephaestus studied the image, recognition flickering in his eyes. Without a word, he reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “Let’s go.”
In a blink, they materialized inside Anchises’s Newport home. The air was still and heavy, the faint scent of the sea wafting through the open windows. Everything looked exactly the same—as it had the last time they were there—right down to the dusty furniture and the old grandfather clock ticking in the corner.
But this time, they could feel it: Anchises’s presence.
They exchanged a glance and made their way upstairs. The door to one of the bedrooms was slightly ajar, and Hephaestus pushed it open cautiously. There, slumped in a chair and tied up with rope, was Anchises—unconscious but breathing.
She gasped, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands hovering over his face as she checked for injuries. Relief washed over her when she saw that he was unharmed.
“We need to wake him,” Hephaestus said from behind her. “We’ll need to scan his eyes to unlock the program.”
She frowned, brushing a strand of hair from Anchises’s face. “I don’t want to traumatize him. Let me put a spell on him first.”
With a flick of her wrist, a soft golden glow enveloped Anchises, settling over him like a warm blanket and freeing him of the rope tied around him. “Alright,” she said, stepping back. “Wake him up.”
Hephaestus leaned down, giving Anchises a gentle shake. “Matt. Wake up.”
Anchises stirred, his head lolling to the side before his eyes fluttered open. He blinked blearily, his gaze unfocused. “Did someone leave the kettle on?” he mumbled groggily. “I swear I can hear it whistling. Oh wait—no, that’s my brain.”
She stifled a laugh. “Matt, it’s us. You’re safe.”
He squinted at her, then at Hephaestus. “Aphrodite? Hephaestus? Wait…am I in trouble? Did I miss a deadline? I knew I shouldn’t have ignored that reminder…”
“You’re fine,” Hephaestus said, stepping closer and holding up his laptop. “We need your help. Can you focus for a moment?”
Anchises looked at him, wide-eyed. “Focus? Oh, sure. I’m great at focusing. Except when I’m not. Did I dream about dancing sea cucumbers, or was that real?”
“Definitely a dream,” she said, biting back a grin. “Listen, Matt, we just need you to look at the camera on the laptop.”
“Laptop?” Anchises repeated, his expression suddenly suspicious. “Wait a minute. You’re not here to delete my browser history, are you?”
Hephaestus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Matt. Just look at the screen.”
Hephaestus’s laptop was already powered on; the program they needed waiting for input. After a few seconds of staring, there was a soft beep, and the screen displayed the words Access Granted .
“Whoa,” Anchises said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s fancy. Did I just unlock the secrets of the universe? Or at least the location of my missing socks?”
“Something like that. Thank you, Matt,” she gave him a little pat on the head.
“Anytime,” Anchises said, his head bobbing before his eyes started to close again. “You guys wouldn’t happen to have coffee, would you? Maybe with a splash of ambrosia?”
Hephaestus shot her a look. “We’d better move fast before he starts asking for snacks.”
Aphrodite gently supported Anchises as he shuffled toward the bed, muttering nonsensical phrases under his breath. Once he was tucked in, she placed her hand lightly on his forehead. “A little spell to keep you out until morning,” she murmured, golden light shimmering from her fingertips. “Sweet dreams, Matt.”
When she returned downstairs, she found Hephaestus crouched over his laptop at the kitchen table, his face illuminated by the bluish glow of the screen. The television, mounted on the wall, was tuned to a news channel, the headlines scrolling across the bottom.
A news anchor was mid-report, “As the mysterious disappearance of Matt Anchises continues, the world remains at a standstill. Reports are coming in from around the globe of widespread disruptions. Productivity has plummeted as people focus on one thing: love.”
Aphrodite paused at the foot of the stairs, her eyes narrowing at the screen. “What’s going on?”
Hephaestus glanced up briefly, his expression grim. “Mortals are completely distracted. Look at this.”
The screen shifted to show a reporter standing outside a massive corporate headquarters. “In a shocking turn, Fortune 500 companies have reported record low attendance rates,” the reporter said, gesturing to the empty parking lot behind her. “Employees are calling in sick to plan weddings, declare their love, or go on spontaneous romantic getaways. Productivity losses are estimated to be in the billions.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Even the workaholics?”
Hephaestus nodded. “Even them.”
The screen cut to an airport terminal, now eerily quiet. The reporter continued, “In the travel sector, airlines are struggling to keep up with cancellations as passengers prioritize staying close to loved ones rather than embarking on business trips or summer vacations. The industry is facing unprecedented challenges.”
Finally, the broadcast showed an aerial view of New York City, the streets filled with couples in festive attire rather than the usual chaos of pedestrians and honking cars. “And in cities across the globe, government offices and courts are overwhelmed with marriage license applications. Some municipalities have declared emergency measures to handle the influx.”
She frowned. “You’re telling me the world is falling apart because people are…in love?”
Her eyes remained glued to the television as the news anchor described the chaos unfolding across the globe. Weddings in grocery stores, love-struck CEOs abandoning boardrooms for impromptu serenades, and entire schools closing as teachers and students alike chased their crushes.
A fresh wave of worry swept over her. She turned to Hephaestus, who was still focused on his laptop. “This is too much of a disruption. We need to stop the fake love now. People aren’t living their lives—they’re obsessed. It’s unnatural.”
Hephaestus looked up, his brow furrowing in agreement. “I think I can shut down the app in an hour. It’s not complicated once I bypass Anchises’s security measures.”
She bit her lip, considering his words. “Could you…add something to the code? Like a filter that stops the fake love matches but lets the real ones continue?”
He blinked, as if surprised by the request, but his lips quirked in a small, knowing smile. “Of course I can. But for something like that to work, we’ll need your magic. Love magic. The kind that knows the difference between infatuation and the real deal.”
“You can’t do it on your own?” Her cheeks flushed, and she folded her arms, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment.
“Aphrodite, it’s your domain. Without you, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“It’s just…love magic is personal. Intense,” she sighed. “I’m used to weaving it for mortals, not coding it into an app.”
“I know you can do it, just let your magic flow and do what feels right.”
She met his gaze, and for a moment, the room felt charged with the quiet tension of unspoken emotions. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it. For the mortals.”
Hephaestus smirked. “For the mortals.”
After Hephaestus was done working on the code, they sat side by side as he explained the app’s framework. When she was ready, she closed her eyes, summoning the subtle shimmer of her magic, feeling the pulse of true love’s essence within her.
She placed her hands gently over the keyboard, closing her eyes as she concentrated. A soft golden glow emanated from her fingertips, seeping into the laptop as her magic intertwined with the framework. She could feel the pulse of the code, its mechanical rhythm shifting and adjusting as her love magic found its way through.
Beside her, Hephaestus worked steadily, his fingers flying over the keys. She followed his lead, and bit by bit, she felt the balance form—the delicate line between real love and the artificial spark created by the app.
Her breath hitched as the sensation locked into place, a perfect equilibrium between the two. “There,” she whispered, soft but confident. “That’s it. The balance.”
“Got it.” With a final flourish of keystrokes, he leaned back, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. “Done.”
Aphrodite threw her arms around him. “We did it!”
Hephaestus laughed, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. “I think we make a pretty good team.”
She chuckled. “I guess we do.”
“We should get?—”
A soft fluttering of wings interrupted Hephaestus. Their gazes met as they both recognized the sound.
“Hello, Aphrodite,” Hermes, Messenger of the Gods, greeted as his winged leather sandals landed on the ground. “You are—Hephaestus.” The normally humorless god’s stupefied expression was almost comical as he stared at their entwined arms.
“Yes?” Hephaestus answered, refusing to let go of Aphrodite.
Clearing his throat, Hermes continued. “Aphrodite, you are being summoned back to Mount Olympus.”
A sense of foreboding came over her as she disentangled herself from Hephaestus’s embrace. “By whom?”
“By the other gods of the council.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I’m just the messenger,” he replied. “Poseidon said you are to come back at once. They are all waiting for you.”
Aphrodite glanced up at Hephaestus. “I should go and see what they want. Why don’t you go back home?”
“No.” He took her hand into his, giving it a squeeze. “I’m coming with you.”
“You weren’t summoned,” she pointed out. “Right, Hermes? They just want to talk to me?”
“Yes, just you, Aphrodite.” The messenger god narrowed his eyes at Hephaestus. “Besides, how long has it been since you showed up at a council meeting?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t mean I’ve lost my seat.”
Hermes shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me, one way or another, as long as Aphrodite shows up.”
“Alright.” The anxiety in her eased as Hephaestus squeezed her hand once more. “To Mount Olympus then.”