Minthe did not even trying to hide her amusement, her lips coiled into a full smirk.
“You might want to hurry,” she said. “When I insisted she wait for you here, she said there was plenty to entertain her downstairs.”
Fantastic. The only thing to ever come out of Aphrodite entertaining herself was war.
He sighed. “Thank you, Minthe.”
Clearly pleased by Hades’ expression of gratitude, Minthe uncrossed her arms, letting them fall at her sides.
“Shall I bring you a drink, my lord?”
“Yes. In fact, I am not to have an empty glass tonight.”
Hades vanished and appeared on the floor of his club, where he walked, silent and unseen. As always, it was packed with mortals and humanoids—nymphs, satyrs, chimeras, centaurs, ogres, and cyclopes. Some used glamour, others did not. Some merely wished to experience the thrill of attending the most notorious club in New Athens, others glanced longingly toward the upstairs lounge, hopeful one of Hades’ staff would offer the night’s password.
A password did not guarantee a game with the God of the Dead, it was just another step in the process. Once mortals passed through the doors of the lounge, fear settled in, and that fear either drew them away or made them desperate. It was the desperate Hades was most interested in—the ones who might change if offered the chance.
It was a delicate process and involved many players. Hades had lost his fair share of bargains, and he could feel those against his skin, a never-ending itch and reminder of failure, but if he could save one life on the path to destruction, he felt it was worth it.
Hades picked up the scent of Aphrodite’s magic—sea salt and roses—and found her sitting on the lap of an older, middle-aged man. He had dark, thinning hair. His forehead was greasy and his face chubby, melting into a sweaty neck, around which Aphrodite’s arms were laced, her breasts pressed against his chest. Hades noted a gold band on the man’s left ring finger. He did not have to look at the mortal’s soul to know he was a cheating bastard.
“Why don’t we go back to my place, baby?” the man asked as his hands explored Aphrodite’s body, moving across her ribs and over her thighs. Hades cringed as he observed the interaction.
“Oh, I really would like to stay just a little longer,” Aphrodite was saying. “Don’t you want to bargain with Hades?”
The man squeezed her, fingers digging into her bottom. “Not anymore. You’re everything I need.”
“Really?” Aphrodite said breathlessly, and leaned closer, her pink lips inches from his.
Hades had to admit, the Goddess of Love was a great actress. She hid her loathing for the man and distracted him with her hands as they drifted up his chest. Hades sensed her magic rising and knew she was compelling the man to tell her the truth as she asked her next question.
“What were you missing before?”
Hades knew the answer because he could see it. The mortal’s insecurities had grown claws as he had aged, and they twined with his narcissism and need to feel important. He held resentment like his child, close to his heart, and it had poisoned his blood, fueled his lies, and prompted his cheating spree. He had a little bit of humanity left in the guilt that sat upon his shoulders like a leering gargoyle. To numb the ache, he drank, but his tolerance for drinking had grown over the last few years, which meant he needed more to feel detached from what his life had become.
The man had a cracked soul, and Hades had a feeling Aphrodite was about to shatter it.
“I’m insecure. I need to know I am still wanted by other women.”
“And it isn’t enough to be wanted by your wife?” Aphrodite’s pretty lips twisted into a scowl. The man’s eyes went wide, his mind at odds with what was coming out of his mouth. Hades had seen it before when he had used the spell.
“I love my wife,” he said. “I’m just looking for sex.”
“Is that all?” She batted her lashes and then spoke in a voice veiled with darkness and strong with promise. “In that case, when you return to your wife this evening, she will no longer desire you. She will cringe at your touch and gag when your lips touch hers. She will refuse you, she will leave you, and you will never recover.”
The man’s eyes widened, and he was no longer holding Aphrodite, his hands peeled back from her skin as if she burned.
This was Aphrodite in her true form. The mortal world believed she was nothing more than a sexual being, that she sought entertainment and pleasure from gods and mortals alike, but the truth was she could be a vengeful god, especially toward those who betrayed love.