Chapter 217: Chapter 61
Aphrodite stirred awake, her lips curling into a soft, languid smile as her mind immediately flooded with memories of the night before.
Her entire body still hummed faintly, as if the echo of Hades’ touch lingered on her skin, a mixture of soreness and warmth that brought an uncharacteristic blush to her cheeks.
She sat there for a long moment, clutching the silken sheets to her chest, thinking of how different it had been from what she imagined.
Despite being untouched until last night, she had expected herself to be in control, to tease and play with him like she did with every other soul who had ever pursued her.
Yet it was not her who set the pace, but him, the god she had chased relentlessly, the man she thought was too cold, too indifferent to ever let loose.
"Merciless... really, no mercy at all," Aphrodite muttered under her breath, pouting as she brushed a lock of golden hair from her face.
Her lips, however, betrayed her true feelings with a satisfied grin tugging at the corners. "But that’s fine. I loved every moment of it."
She sat up properly, the sheets falling from her shoulders to reveal her bare form, flawless and radiant as if sculpted from divine marble.
Her body carried no lingering marks, no bruises or blemishes, her divine physique having already healed any traces of their intensity, though she secretly wished some remained, as proof, as a brand of belonging.
She glanced to the side of the bed, only to find it empty, the space where he had lain already cold.
A faint pout returned to her lips, and she crossed her arms beneath her chest.
"So he just leaves without saying anything... typical," she sighed, though there was no real venom in her words.
Her voice was soft, amused even, because she knew exactly how he was. "Of course, he’s probably buried in paperwork already. My poor, overworked, clueless Hades. He doesn’t even know how much I want to just drag him back here and keep him all to myself."
Before she could wallow in her thoughts, the doors creaked open, and a female divine spirit entered, carrying Aphrodite’s robes neatly folded in her arms.
The spirit’s steps faltered slightly as her gaze fell upon the goddess, bare and radiant in the soft glow of the morning light.
She quickly lowered her eyes, her cheeks dusting pink, and hurried to her mistress.
"My lady, your robes," the spirit said, voice soft, almost rushed.
Aphrodite stretched like a cat before standing with effortless grace, her long golden hair cascading down her back as she turned toward the spirit.
The sight of her perfect body in full view made the servant’s hands tremble slightly, but she composed herself quickly, draping the robes over Aphrodite’s shoulders with practiced hands.
The goddess chuckled lightly at the girl’s stiff composure, enjoying the faint embarrassment she caused without effort.
Once clothed, Aphrodite ran her fingers lazily through her hair, twisting and smoothing it into place as she spoke, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. "Well then, what news do you bring me this early?"
The spirit bowed deeply. "Lady Hera and Lady Hecate have requested an audience with you, my lady. They are already waiting in the hall. I have brought this message at once, as instructed."
At that, Aphrodite laughed, a soft, melodious sound dripping with satisfaction. "Hera and Hecate, is it? How delightful. I wonder, are they here to lecture me, to glare at me with those eyes filled with bitterness, or to admit defeat like proper women who lost the game?"
She touched her lips, remembering Hades’ kisses, before shaking her head with amusement. "Either way, I can’t wait to see their faces now that I’ve taken the lead."
She turned away, gesturing idly toward the servant. "Go and prepare tea, the finest, and some of the sweet cakes we keep in reserve. I wouldn’t want our esteemed guests to think me a graceless host, even if their true intentions are far from friendly. Tell them I will be there shortly."
The spirit bowed once more, her voice steady though her steps seemed eager to escape the charged atmosphere.
"At once, my lady." With that, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Alone again, Aphrodite stood in the middle of the room, her eyes sweeping over the sight before her.
Pillows scattered across the floor, curtains half-torn, furniture displaced, the sheets utterly ruined, the entire space bore witness to the storm they had unleashed together.
She sighed, placing her hands on her hips.
"Goodness, what a mess," she muttered, though the smile on her lips said she wasn’t truly displeased. "It looks as though a typhoon passed through... or perhaps just one very stubborn god finally letting himself go."
Her fingers brushed lightly across her lips, a faint blush coloring her cheeks again. "I suppose I’ll clean this up first. It wouldn’t do for Hera and Hecate to walk in and smell the remnants of last night."
Still, she lingered by the bed for a moment longer, her gaze softening as she looked at the disheveled sheets where Hades had once been.
"You left so early... I really must teach you, my dear Hades, that when a goddess of love gives you her heart, she expects you to stay by her side, not your desk." She chuckled, shaking her head, before finally gathering herself to prepare for the confrontation to come.
*
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*
Aphrodite pushed open the grand doors to the guest hall, her expression calm, her every movement elegant as though nothing could ever shake her poise.
There, she immediately saw Hera and Hecate sitting, their teas and snacks remained untouched.
She smiled, wondering how she would tease them.
But the moment she stepped across the threshold, she felt it—the crushing, suffocating weight of Hera’s divinity slamming into her like an unseen storm.
It was sharp, heavy, overwhelming, not unlike the sensation of drowning in her own skin, and for one terrifying heartbeat her knees nearly buckled, her carefully painted smile cracked at the corners.
The goddess of love, who could face entire armies of desire and sway them with a look, felt her own heart stutter beneath the sheer fury and despair hidden in Hera’s power.
’Insane... this woman absolutely insane,’ she thought, a bead of cold sweat sliding down her spine as she forced herself to continue forward.
’She isn’t just angry. She wants to kill me. She really, truly wants to kill me.’
But the wave of divinity passed as quickly as it had come, retreating into silence, and Aphrodite exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm as she reined in her composure, carefully smoothing her smile back into place.
She turned her eyes toward Hera and let a subtle glare pass across her face, not one of rage, but of warning, a sharp reminder that she would not bow down even under the weight of the goddess’ fury.
However, the moment she glared at Hera, she immediately noticed it—Hera looked nothing like the imperious goddess who acts like she’s above everybody else, who always carried herself as though her very presence demanded reverence.
Now, she looks like mess.
Her robes were wrinkled, loosely tied, her hair falling in uneven strands as though she had thrown herself together without care.
It was disordered, unpolished, utterly unlike her usual perfection, and it made Aphrodite’s heart twist with both amusement and caution.
’Holy crap, she looks like shit. Did me being with Hades really affected her that much?’ she wondered, confused, hiding her thoughts behind a soft tilt of her lips. ’How pitiful. How very human.’
She turned towards Hecate.
Unlike Hera, she, on the other hand, was composed as always, her posture straight, her aura as restrained as the night sky she embodied.
At a glance, she seemed untouched by the rumors, as though nothing could move her.
Yet Aphrodite was a goddess of perception when it came to matters of the heart, and she saw it—the faint tremor in Hecate’s hands, the way her eyes lingered just a heartbeat too long on her before quickly darting away, the thin veil of calm that barely covered a tide of emotion.
There was bitterness there, envy, a fragile wound hidden behind layers of composure.
’So, even the witch goddess isn’t immune. Interesting. Very interesting,’ Aphrodite thought, her smile curving wider, though her heart thrummed with a dangerous thrill.
She crossed the hall with an unhurried grace, the sound of her steps echoing softly against the marble floor, every sway of her hips deliberate, her presence demanding attention.
She sat down in front of them as though this were her throne room, folding her robes neatly around her legs, her smile bright and charming.
"Good morning, sisters," she said sweetly, her voice carrying the perfect balance between politeness and provocation. "I hope the tea is to your liking. I had it prepared fresh for you both. Though..."
Her eyes flicked to the untouched cups and plates between them, and she let out a soft laugh, as though she found it all amusing rather than offensive. "It seems neither of you are in the mood for sweets. What a shame. They are quite good, you know."
As she leaned back in her seat, her golden hair spilling across her shoulders, her mind churned beneath the surface.
This is dangerous, more dangerous than she had thought. Hera looks like a storm waiting to break, and Hecate... she hides herself well, but she sees her fury.
They hate her. They very much hate her for last night, for what she took.
But It doesn’t matter, she won’t flinch. She even won’t bow.
Not now. Not ever.