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  She walked to Zeus, lifted her chin, and braced herself.

  He looked down at her with stern eyes. “As you know, we all grow weary of the hostility between the gods over you. It seems that only a few are immune to your charms, though the ones who are not have caused enough problems for the lot.”

  “I am as vexed by the fact as you are, Zeus.”

  “I very much doubt that. It cannot continue, and so I have decided that you will marry.”

  The gods murmured together, filling the throne room with their echoes. Aphrodite painted her face into a placid mask as her heart fluttered like bird wings in her chest.

  Ares stood as if to accept, and all eyes flew to him.

  “Sit down, boy. You could not be so foolish as to think that you would be the one I would choose for her husband,” Zeus scoffed.

  Ares chest rose, his teeth bared. “You cannot do this, Zeus.”

  A cloud passed over Zeus’ gray eyes, and he rose, growing taller, menacing as the room dimmed and thunder boomed with his voice in the sweeping space. “You dare tell me what I can and cannot do? It is in part because of you that I must do this. You bloodying the eye or nose of any god or mortal who glances at her is tiresome and churlish. The feuding ends, and it ends now. Do not defy me, and do not forget how you have been punished in the past for your arrogance, because this time, not even your mother will save you from me.”

  Hera sat in Zeus’ shadow, her brows pinched together, her bottom lip between her teeth as she leaned forward with her eyes on Ares.

  Aphrodite watched as the gods stared each other down, tense and taught as a bow string. Ares’ forearms twitched in his leather cuffs as he tightened his fist, then sat slowly, the red plume in his helmet trembling alongside his rage. Once Ares was seated with his eyes locked on her, Zeus sat as well. The room returned to soft daylight as he shifted his attention back to her.

  “There is only one god who I would trust to bear the responsibility. He is steady and true, dependable and respectful. He will take care of you.”

  “I do not need to be taken care of.”

  “Someone must keep you under control.”

  “No one can control me.” Her rage twisted around her heart.

  “It will be done, and you will not disobey. You will marry Hephaestus.”

  The room erupted in noise, and Hephaestus rose, strong and sure, his eyes begging her to understand, but she could not. She would not.

  Aphrodite stood alone before the thrones of the gods, still as stone, her fury rolling through her like thunder.

  “Do you believe, Zeus, that you could hold me back? That you could strip me of the power that is mine by marrying me off? I am older than you, older than all of you,” she said, sweeping her hand across the room. “You are children, and I am the daughter of Uranus, father of the sky, grandfather of Zeus. Of all of you, I am entitled to the seat of power over Zeus.” Zeus slapped the arm of his throne, and Aphrodite held out a hand to stay him. “I do not want the throne. If I did, it would be mine. But your insolence is insulting.”

  The air moved around her, her wrath just under the surface, her white-hot, glowing eyes never breaking from his. The wind stirred the soft waves at her back and the petals of the roses in her crown.

  Her eyes were narrow as she continued. “Are you sure that this is what you wish? Because I will not forget. This goes against all that I stand for. I do not love Hephaestus, and he does not love me.”

  “You will learn to love each other.”

  She fought to hold herself back. “As you have done with Hera?” A few gasps and laughs rolled through the gods, but Zeus was not amused.

  “Do you mock me?”

  “Why would you ask a question to which you know the answer?”

  Zeus stood, and she would have been afraid, had she not been so angry.

  “I will do your bidding,” she continued before he could speak, “but not without consequence.”

  “Do you threaten me, Aphrodite?”

  “I promise.”

  His jaw flexed, but his voice was dismissive. “We shall see. Do not dare disobey me. I will not be gentle.”

  Aphrodite turned on her heel and flew from the throne room with all eyes on her and Persephone in her wake, her fists so tight that her fingernails bit into her palms. When she reached her heavy door, she pushed it open and slammed it behind her with a savage scream.

  She turned to exhibit her fury on everything in her chambers, smashing pots and ripping tapestries from the walls, roaring. She climbed on her bed and tore the curtains down, shredding them before slashing her bedding to ribbons.

  Persephone waited until Aphrodite caused sufficient damage and collapsed on the bed crying before silently restoring the destruction. When the room was back in order, she climbed into bed with her friend.

  Aphrodite wrapped her arms around Persephone’s waist. “I will never forgive him. Never,” she whispered as Persephone stroked her hair, her tears falling as her rage ebbed, and resentment took its place.

  She had kept her promise. Zeus was the original philanderer, the first womanizer, largely due to her influence on him, though the job was made easy by the fact that he was an egomaniacal douche who was married to a vain harpy.

  To add insult to injury, Zeus forced her to move to Hephaestus’ workshop to live with him there. As a wife would live with a husband, he had said. Hephaestus gave her a break and made a space for her just above his home, knowing how she hated the confined spaces underground, and knowing how she resented their marriage.

  Dita swore before they were married that she would never love Hephaestus, vowing that she would never know him and would never let him know her. She would never give him her body or soul, blaming him for being the catalyst in a situation that objectified her and forced her into a construct to which she didn’t subscribe. So she carried on her love affairs as she wished, and he complied, never forcing her, giving her whatever space she needed. He’d always respected her wishes, even though it went against the sanctity of their marriage, knowing she felt the whole thing was a sham.

  Over the ages, she had gotten to know Heff, despite her best efforts. He loved her, she knew, and in her way, she loved him too. He was thoughtful and caring, though strong willed when something mattered to him. He would be whatever she needed whenever she needed it, be it friend, protector, lover, or husband, but she had only called on him to be a friend and liked to think that she had given that back to him, at least.

  Dita watched Heff’s big hands as he lifted the keypad by its face and pushed it back into the wall.

  She smiled as she lay in one of the many gifts he’d made for her. Her most coveted possession was Bisoux, and second in line was her infinity closet. But the runner up was a corset Heff created that made her irresistible to any man. Not that she needed much help in that department, but it never hurt. She looked amazing in it.

  Heff tightened the last screw and stood. “Okay, Dita. Let’s give it a whirl.”

  She unfolded herself from the pillows and trotted to the doorway where Heff leaned against the frame. He nearly filled it, and didn’t move when she approached, just smiled down at her as she pressed her body against his to squeeze by. All she could smell was smoke and fire as her cheek brushed against his chest.

  “You’re impossible.” She giggled at him, rolling her eyes, though her cheeks went hot.

  Heff winked, then turned to the keypad and punched out a sequence of numbers. Dita’s hair stirred as the closet spun around again and landed on 1500 AD. Renaissance gowns hung along every wall, and lavish jewelry and crowns were displayed in cases. He crossed his arms over his chest with a satisfied look on his face.

  “Thank you, Heff.” She laid her hands on his wide shoulders and reached up on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. His cheeks flushed hard under his beard.

  “No problem. Need anything else while I’m here?” He smiled sideways.

  She shook her head. “That was it. Really,
thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Dita. I’ll see you later.” His eyes lingered on her once more before he turned to leave.

  She walked over to the doorframe and leaned against it as she watched Heff limp out. The gods would have all treated him as second-class, if it weren’t for his beautiful mind. None of the other gods had any physical flaws, but she had to admit that he was just as exquisite as all the rest.

  ———— New York ————

  Travis walked up the steps to his apartment, exhausted, but stoked. He couldn’t believe his luck, getting into the Paper Fools, and he was ecstatic about it. All the guys were friendly enough, and he was already familiar with their songs, so picking them up was going fast. He didn’t think it would be long before they were ready to hit the studio.

  A smile stretched across his face. He was going to be on an album, something he’d almost given up on after being stuck with Spike for as long as he had been.

  He unlocked the door and made his way inside, tossing his keys in the dish on the table. He stretched as he walked into his bedroom, and Lex looked up from their bed with a smile. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and she laid the book she was reading down in her lap.

  “Hey. How was practice?”

  “It went really well.” He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into the laundry basket in the closet. “I met Dean, the lead singer today, but he didn’t say much. Kevin, he plays keys, is hilarious. He’s the ultimate nerd, and I’m pretty sure he weighs less than a twelve-year-old girl. Oh, get this—apparently the last drummer left because Dean boned the guy’s girlfriend.”

  “What?” Her nose wrinkled. “Man, that is low.”

  Travis laughed. “Kevin called him Professor Panty Dropper.”

  Lex laughed so loud, Travis figured it was more of a cackle. “Oh, my god. That’s hilarious.”

  “Right? They actually told me not to bring you to practice.”

  She shook her head and picked up her book. “Like I’d be that weak.”

  Travis pulled his jeans off and walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower. He reached in and turned it all the way to hot, then walked back into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed next to Lex. “Yeah, Kevin said the guy’s never had a girlfriend, and that it’s never the same girl twice. I don’t know, though. I can’t get a read on him. He seems like the kind of guy that doesn’t have problems getting chicks, but if he never actually dates any of them, that’s kind of weird, right?”

  “I don’t know many good looking guys in their late twenties that have never had a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah. But, he writes all their lyrics, and between that and what Kevin told me, it seems like he’s got some serious baggage.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he kind of sounds like a prick.”

  “I’m sure he’s not. He’s just got issues. Everybody’s got issues.”

  Her brow dropped a bit, and a shadow passed over her face. “It’s true,” she said, then shook herself and smiled. “So, what’s the deal with this band? I mean, are you rich now? Because I could really use a sugar daddy.”

  He laughed. “Not quite rich, but Roe gave me an advance from the signing bonus, so I called and quit the restaurant. Can’t say I’m bummed I won’t be waiting tables anymore.”

  “Travis, that’s amazing. Sounds like they’re a huge step up from Spike.”

  “Uh, yeah. I can’t say I was sad to quit Spike either.”

  “Kara will be absolutely crushed.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” He rolled off the bed, then walked into the bathroom and slipped into the hot water.

  Travis thought about Dean again and felt bad for the guy. There was something about him, something sad and ruined, and he wondered what could have happened to Dean in his life to stop him from ever being with someone. Not only that, but he had thrown the band into tumult multiple times because he couldn’t say no, if what Kevin said was true.

  He asked himself what he would do if Lex stepped out on him with Dean. She was his best friend, and he loved her, but he didn’t think he was in love with her. What they had worked, and worked well, but they were both content where things were.

  He knew her and trusted her. If she wanted a thing with Dean or anyone else, she’d be honest with him about it, and he would let her go.

  Day 4

  LEX WAS A LITTLE WARY as she walked with Travis to the warehouse for practice, heavily armed with things to keep her busy, just in case his new band was anything like Spike’s. She’d suffered through enough shows and practices with the old band that she had a system for keeping herself entertained, which largely included a good book and her leather bound sketch book. Both were tucked away in her ridiculously large purse, and though she hoped she wouldn’t have to use them, she wasn’t holding out for a miracle.

  She followed Travis into the warehouse, and as soon as the door banged closed behind her, she fell in love.

  Her boot heels clicked on the worn, cement floor, and she paused on a rectangle of light let in from the windows that lined the top of the thirty-foot ceilings. She tilted her head to follow the column of light, and her lips parted in awe at the beauty of the space as her eyes traced the concrete beams that arched overhead like the rib bones of some ancient beast.

  “Awesome, right?” Travis smiled at her, watching her gape.

  “Seriously,” she breathed.

  Microphones and amps were set up in the middle of the warehouse on worn Persian rugs, and Travis’ drums stood on a small platform behind the keyboard and guitar stands. Old orange and yellow velvet couches sat in front of the microphone where the lead singer belonged. Lex smiled, still looking around as she headed to the biggest couch and sank into it.

  She reached into her bag, digging around in the black hole for her book, but looked up when she sensed someone in front of her. She froze dead when her eyes locked on his.

  They were the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, almost shocking in his long face, and his wide lips bent in a crooked smile. He was tall, really tall, and his ebony hair fell forward as he looked down at her. He pushed it back without seeming to think about it, but it still looked perfectly tossed, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

  She realized she still hadn’t taken a breath and flushed, then fumbled and almost dropped her book.

  “Uh, hi. I’m Lex.” She tossed her hand in a wave, hoping she looked casual.

  He paused for a second, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, and as she studied him, it dawned on her that he was amused. She was unnerved, even more so when she realized that was exactly what he wanted.

  “Hey,” he said, the timbre of his voice deep and full. “I’m Dean.”

  Lex realized her mouth was open. And that he was smirking. And that he was dead sexy while he was doing it. She closed her mouth and cocked an eyebrow, trying to pull herself together, not wanting to let him know he’d gotten to her.

  “Dean, huh? I heard they call you Professor Panty Dropper.”

  His smile stretched wider. “Oh, is that what they say?”

  “They do.”

  A tall blond, who she guessed was Roe, stood at the microphone glaring at them. “Mic check, Dean.”

  They stared at each other like idiots for a split second longer before Dean turned to pick up his guitar, and he took his place with the rest of the band. She watched him walk away, then blinked a few times and turned to her bag again, not looking for anything, just needing to keep her hands busy and her eyes off of Dean while she scraped her dignity off the floor.

  She picked up her book and leaned back on the couch, glancing at Travis, who was tightening his drum heads. He hadn’t seen their exchange, and she let out a breath.

  Why should it matter? Nothing even happened, Lex. Her heart fluttered a Yeah, right at her.

  Her eyes wandered back to Dean as he leaned over the microphone with his guitar slung behind his back. His hands slid down t
he pole to adjust the height, and she bit her lip. His voice rumbled through the speakers, and he glanced at her as he spoke. “One, two. Okay, guys, Glow?”

  Travis chopped his sticks together to start the rhythm of a driving, bluesy rock beat, and Dean brought in a steady, tempting riff on his guitar. He leaned up to the microphone, his mouth practically on it, and started to sing.

  You already know the answer

  I need to hear

  Know, baby, know

  Glow, baby, glow

  Like electricity

  Send it through the phone line

  And into my ear

  Find me in the dark

  Got to have you near

  You’re the one that takes me there

  My sun shines for you

  Shines off a hundred mirrors

  To show me the way through

  You already know the answer

  I need to hear

  So know, baby, know

  Glow, baby, glow

  Like electricity

  Take me where I need to go

  Couldn’t find my way

  But take my hand so I can see

  I can’t help but stay

  He closed his eyes and bent his brow, occasionally looking down between verses as he picked the strings, playing with such ease she wondered where he’d learned, who had taught him. It seemed so natural that he would be standing there, playing that guitar, singing that song. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, completely fascinated.

  The song ended, and she was surprised, unsure how long it had gone on, disappointed that it was over.

  Ho-ly shit.

  Lex’s realized her mouth was gaping again, and she snapped it closed.

  My god. He might actually have the power to spontaneously drop panties from here to China.

  Dean turned around to discuss changes in the pace and his guitar solo, and Lex was thankful she didn’t have to hide her very physical reaction to The Dean Show. She gave herself an inward slap and opened her bag to deposit her book, swapping it with her black leather notebook.