Dionysus (Greek God Romance Book 1) (9 page)

Dionysus laughed hard enough to empty his lungs of air. He took a minute before he stopped. Aphrodite glared but made no comment. He said, “Does that
actually
work?”

She grasped her tits and pushed them up. “It usually doesn’t get past these.”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m not so dull.”

“Ah. . . true. It’s how we know you weren’t born of those two.”

“Ha!”

“I’m going to need something in return.”

“Shoot.”

Aphrodite walked out of the room. Dionysus turned back to see Rebecca’s face, a mix of befuddlement and distress. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and righted herself. She then bore into Dionysus’ eyes, squinting a bit. She said, “Have you two fucked?”

“Well. . .”

She sighed full of exasperation, tilting her head and said, “
Really? Her?”

He shrugged. “You never fuck a douchebag?”

She snorted. “Not a married one. . . that I know of.”

“She can be
very
persuasive.”

“I see that.”

“Oh can it, I was young.”

“You seem to use that excuse a lot.”

“Don’t we all?”

Rebecca thought on this for a moment then made no reply. He had a point.

After a few minutes, Aphrodite walked back in with a big, floppy golden dildo.

Dionysus shook his head. “Hell no.”

Rebecca burst out laughing, then when Dionysus turned his head to look at her and Aphrodite over his shoulder, she bowed her head down and tried to snuff it.

“Not for you.”

Dionysus rubbed his hand down the back of his head. “That’s a relief.”

“It’s for Ares.”

“Eh?”

The golden dildo flopped around as she said, “I
want
you to make sure Ares will play with me”—she flopped it around more vigorously—“play with this!”

Dionysus raised his eyebrows and his mouth opened slightly.

Aphrodite cut him off before he started, “What? Like you haven’t played with some toys?”

Dionysus frowned. “Thankfully. . . not a big thing in my youth.”

“What about the wooden ones in Greece?”

“Oh, sure, the satyrs and maenads had a lot of fun with those.”

She hit the dildo on to her other hand like one would with a bat who was about to fight someone. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She sighed. “Fine. You have to give me what I want before you can get what you want.”

“If I succeed, how will I know you won’t lie?”

She tilted her head; she looked hurt. “Dionysus, I would
never
do such a thing.”

He drummed his lips. “Please.”

“Send him to me and find him the next day. I’m sure he’s gait will have an extra stutter to it.”

Dionysus snorted. “Deal. I’ll need you to send him to the bar, tonight.”

She tilted her head again. “That easy?”

“And your part?”

She grinned, showing off her brilliant whites, perfectly aligned and glowing. “Pfff, that’ll be far too easy. A beautiful mortal with Dionysus, his vision will be narrow. You do know, he’ll probably go to Hera afterward.”

Dionysus bit his lip. “Right.” He looked over to Rebecca, smiled and turned back to Aphrodite. “It’s worth it.”

Her smile grew. “Good. I always had a thing for love.”

Dionysus bowed his head, not wanting to reveal more and so did Rebecca. And in that coincidental moment, neither noticed each other’s action or the feelings attached. Aphrodite decided not to push or comment, seeing a young love blossom always chiseled her heart—whether frozen or not.

Dionysus said, “I made the liquids that birthed bad decisions. I
think
I can have him not knowing what’s happening.”

“Good.” She slapped the golden rod in her other hand again. “I’ve been pining for this for some time. I probably could’ve gotten you to do this without a reward, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

They laughed and Rebecca stood there, looking around unsure of what to do or say.

Aphrodite said, “She looks tough.”

“Very.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows as Aphrodite approached her while wiggling the golden dildo. “Have you ever played?”

“Hell no.”

“If Dionysus acts poorly come see me”—she slapped the dildo on her other hand again for effect—“I’ll straighten him out.”

Rebecca grinned and looked over to Dionysus. “He knows his place.”

Aphrodite smiled and smacked him on the back with the dildo. “He better. Bring me Ares tonight, drunk and forgetful.”

Dionysus grinned devilishly. “With pleasure.”

HE’LL GET HIS, ONCE IN BUTT AND ONCE BY ME

The “monsters” parted the Red Sea once again. Rebecca looked up, since Dionysus was sitting at the bar and no other god had ventured inside The Old Watering Hole. She knew who it had to be, it was, as they always say,
game time.

Ares could be best described as a man’s man. He wore gold and red armor. His hair was thick and black and his beard was well-kept effortlessly. He had penetrating dark brown eyes and was close to seven feet but seemed to tower over the “monsters”—many of whom were a few feet taller.

He grabbed a stool besides Dionysus and sat down.

He glowered at him, their mutual hatred deep and long. “Dionysus.”

Dionysus gave a side glance while sipping his beer, savoring the taste and smacking his lips before saying, “Ares.”

Ares looked over to Rebecca and smiled. He was immediately on the prowl. Rebecca returned the smile, knowing he would say some flattering remark before he did so. “This is the mortal I’ve been hearing about?”

“Who’s been talking?”

“No one.”

“How’d you hear?”

He gave Dionysus a wicked grin. “How else?”

Dionysus snorted and drank some more.

Rebecca asked, “What can I get for you?” She was impressed. Dionysus played his part perfectly.

What she had not surmised was that it was
exactly
how he would’ve treated Ares regardless—no need to restring a perfectly strung guitar.

“Whatever Dionysus is having, I guess, is good enough for me.”

Rebecca looked to Dionysus who nodded.

Ares said, “Don’t seek his approval. You’re a strong woman. Do as you see fit.”

She went and grabbed him the specially concocted beer Dionysus had created. It looked just like what Dionysus was sipping on, but apparently was a hundred times as strong. Dionysus said she would’ve died from a sip.
And Ares. . . well, he’ll find himself with a headache and a sore ass.

 “Thank you. . . You may be the most beautiful mortal I’ve laid eyes upon.”

What few mortals knew was that Ares had invented what many of the male douche persuasion call “game.” He had been seen running “game” on women in ancient times. And since he is a god, every man thereafter tried emulating him.

Dionysus snorted again.

Rebecca smiled, not interested but slightly drawn to goad Dionysus a bit—to play her part; she responded, “Thank you, Ares. Is that what brings you in?”

“You’re welcome. Of course, I had to behold you, myself.”

Dionysus said, “Here we go.”

“Do you lay claim, Dionysus?” Dionysus, not a warring god, was being coerced by one. He would’ve loved to grab the back of his head and slam it on the counter. In fact, that very image played in his mind several times before he answered, “I do not.” He suppressed a grin, seeing that Aphrodite was to gift him with a floppy golden dildo up Ares’ deserving ass.

Rebecca interrupted, “No one lays claim to me.”

Ares eyes morphed and were aflame. “Gods are speaking, mortal.”

She took a step back, caught off-guard and for the first time in Olympus. . . quite frightened. His look penetrated her, made her feel as if death was a mere second away. She touched her neck, feeling her pulse, verifying she still lived. A thought ran through her head.
This was why he has been so adamant about escorting me home and getting whatever the hell Heph made.

Dionysus snapped, “Get that shit out of here.”

The place went silent. The lesser “monsters” slowly backed up and towards the exit.

“Excuse me?”

“That old school bullshit, Ares. Get it out of here.”

Ares beamed. He swigged his mug of beer and slammed the empty glass on the counter, shattering it and sending pieces of glass to each end.

“That’s all I needed to know.” Ares walked out of the bar, a slight stumble towards the end.

Dionysus swore, “Damn it, I hate that little shit.”

Rebecca said, “Seems pretty big to me.”

“I guess Aphrodite was right.”

“And?”

He smiled from ear to ear, a devil in his eye; she knew Dionysus had plans, big ones. “He’ll get his, once in the butt and once by me.”

Rebecca rested her arm on the counter and placed her head in her hand. She asked, “You going to play with the golden dildo too?”

“Oh, shut up.” He saluted her with his beer. “I’ve got something in the works. It’ll be my chance to verify all the
fun
he’ll have tonight.”

“Oh. . .?”

He grinned madly in reply.

“Care to share?”

He finished his beer. “On our way to Heph’s in a few days, I’ll fill you in.”

“Can’t wait.”

He smiled besides himself. He loved how interested she was.

YOU’RE LATE

Hera liked to have her meetings at the pool house. There was one bedroom, an exercise area with a TV where she liked to organize her thoughts or viciously attack the elliptical, and a conference room she had built there, unbeknownst to Zeus.

Zeus knew nothing about the pool house—just that it was a pool house. He didn’t care for the water—much like he never ventured to the Underworld, water could render him powerless if his brother, Poseidon, so desired. . . His brother so desired.

Hera sat down on one of the leather chairs around the mahogany table. The table had enough seating for eight and an intercom in the middle. It was designed to mimic a conference room at any high-level cooperation. A passion of hers: she was on the board of a few Fortune 500 companies under various aliases and disguises. She loved it, pined for it. Yelling, espionage, vengeance, the board room was a delight. She, more than anyone on Olympus, loved how bloody the world had become.

She waited for Ares, drumming her fingers on the table. One of the many things she hated about gods was the lack of punctuality. No one in the business world would do this to her. This only fed her ire and indignation before Ares arrived.

Ares opened the door, a rush of drunkenness had beseeched him.

“You’re late.”

“I hate trouble with the—”

“Enough. What do you have for me?”

“I have verification that Dionysus has a lo—love interest.” He shook his head. The world shook back. He grabbed a chair, clasped on to it with his hands then unsteadily sat down.
Slurring? Dizziness? How could this be?

“Oh. . .? You don’t say. . . I’ve been meaning to deliver a lesson to him for some time. The bastard child, the dribbling fool, what was a demigod that should’ve been easily crushed underfoot spawned into an Olympian. He taints everything we are.” She shook her head, a rage already brewing.

In texts, Ares was portrayed as an irrationally angry god. . . What was never addressed was where he got it from. Hera made sure to expunge that information from ancient lore.

She drummed the table more vigorously. “I’ve never. . .
never
got to extract my true revenge for my husband’s crime with that one.”

Ares nodded. The god of war, destruction, violence and whose children were fear, terror, and discord paled in comparison to Hera when she was entangled with fury’s clutches. It made him adjust himself in his seat nervously. This also brought another bout of tipsiness, this time, his surroundings shook vehemently.

“And?”

He hesitated. “And?”

“What
verification
do you have my thick child?”

“Well—I—uh. . .”

“Start over.”

“I went to the bar.”

“And?”

“I sat down and talked to her. Dionysus was sitting where he—he—he always does.”

“Must I guide you to the path of a meaning?
How
did you verify?”

“I co—erced him.” He squinted, trying right the world.