never blossomed. “Uh, before I go.”
Rebecca did not move a muscle. She had been waiting and waiting. Is he finally going to show some emotion?
“Yes?”
He scratched at his head. “Well. . . I think there may be trouble.”
“Trouble at sea?”
He frowned. “I think Ares came in for more than just Aphrodite.”
“Yea to fish for. . .” She tilted her head and looked up, noticing the ceiling had not been ravished by the rampage. That was a shame for Rebecca because she really hated that color. “Aphrodite mentioned Hera.”
“Right”
“And?”
“Well. . . It could be bad. He has a weird getting-dominated-thing with his mother.”
“Hera?”
He nodded, his voice darkened as he said her name again, “Hera.”
Rebecca could tell that the story was long and dark and old. Worse than anything portrayed in the book Apollo had given her; although, it would be hard to top a stepmother who made it so you were torn to bits as a child.
“And what’s that do for us?”
“She’s had it out for me since I came to be.”
“Ah—”
Dionysus started pacing, lost like a puppy. He had no idea what he was doing. Rebecca, he believed more strongly than ever, was who he had been waiting for. She could get him out of his head and expunge the memory of Ariadne. He could not let her get into more danger, would not have it. At least, that was the new excuse he was running with. “I’ll just keep my distance for a while.”
“You’re not coming to the bar? It’s your nature, so says the scorpion to the frog.”
He laughed. “That’s an old one—a bit different in my youth.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’ll—I’ll be a bit more stern, more like this bunch.”
“Hermes isn’t stern. And yeah, your voice has changed. You should look into that.”
“Not stern. . . but certainly demanding.”
She smirked. “You’re right.”
“I’ll just be a bit distant until the heat dies down.”
Rebecca thought Dionysus was acting like a boy not a god who had lived thousands of years. She said, “Is that what you want?”
He stopped pacing, looked her in the eye. “Of course, that’s not what I want.”
“Buck up, old sailor.”
“I can’t lose you.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“I’d rather not have you and admire you than have you and lose you.”
Rebecca sighed, shaking her head. “Men are so dumb. God men too. What about what I want? Did you think about that? Or was this all Dionysus and no Rebecca?”
“I have to keep you safe. . .” Dionysus’ worries—although, manifesting so that he could wiggle his way out of a situation with Rebecca that he thought might hurt one of them—weren’t groundless. Olympus was ruthless when it came to love. Always a god or goddess out there that did not have love and a bone to grind. Each had a healthy dose of animosity towards each other—even the ones friendly towards one another—this made any couple an easy target.
Rebecca gestured around. “Look at this place. Was this safe? What if Hermes had done this without you guys around? You’d be picking me up from the floor. . . whatever’s left.”
“He would never—”
“How do you know? We can’t control what others do. . . they’ll do it anyway. We can control what we do.”
“I know you’ve heard the stories.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard most mortals don’t make it past day one.”
He confirmed, “That is true.”
“Well then, count me lucky.”
He smiled. “You’re too strong. Olympus would be different if you were a goddess.”
She scoffed. “Of course, it would, but where’s the fun in that? You wanted danger. I wanted danger. You wanted love. I’ve been looking all the wrong places all my life and happen to find some of it where I’m not supposed to.”
Dionysus stared at her, trying to decide what to do. Whatever she may say, his resolve still impeded his heart. . . and subsequently his genitals. He ventured, “And if
Rebecca did not move a muscle. She had been waiting and waiting. Is he finally going to show some emotion?
“Yes?”
He scratched at his head. “Well. . . I think there may be trouble.”
“Trouble at sea?”
He frowned. “I think Ares came in for more than just Aphrodite.”
“Yea to fish for. . .” She tilted her head and looked up, noticing the ceiling had not been ravished by the rampage. That was a shame for Rebecca because she really hated that color. “Aphrodite mentioned Hera.”
“Right”
“And?”
“Well. . . It could be bad. He has a weird getting-dominated-thing with his mother.”
“Hera?”
He nodded, his voice darkened as he said her name again, “Hera.”
Rebecca could tell that the story was long and dark and old. Worse than anything portrayed in the book Apollo had given her; although, it would be hard to top a stepmother who made it so you were torn to bits as a child.
“And what’s that do for us?”
“She’s had it out for me since I came to be.”
“Ah—”
Dionysus started pacing, lost like a puppy. He had no idea what he was doing. Rebecca, he believed more strongly than ever, was who he had been waiting for. She could get him out of his head and expunge the memory of Ariadne. He could not let her get into more danger, would not have it. At least, that was the new excuse he was running with. “I’ll just keep my distance for a while.”
“You’re not coming to the bar? It’s your nature, so says the scorpion to the frog.”
He laughed. “That’s an old one—a bit different in my youth.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’ll—I’ll be a bit more stern, more like this bunch.”
“Hermes isn’t stern. And yeah, your voice has changed. You should look into that.”
“Not stern. . . but certainly demanding.”
She smirked. “You’re right.”
“I’ll just be a bit distant until the heat dies down.”
Rebecca thought Dionysus was acting like a boy not a god who had lived thousands of years. She said, “Is that what you want?”
He stopped pacing, looked her in the eye. “Of course, that’s not what I want.”
“Buck up, old sailor.”
“I can’t lose you.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“I’d rather not have you and admire you than have you and lose you.”
Rebecca sighed, shaking her head. “Men are so dumb. God men too. What about what I want? Did you think about that? Or was this all Dionysus and no Rebecca?”
“I have to keep you safe. . .” Dionysus’ worries—although, manifesting so that he could wiggle his way out of a situation with Rebecca that he thought might hurt one of them—weren’t groundless. Olympus was ruthless when it came to love. Always a god or goddess out there that did not have love and a bone to grind. Each had a healthy dose of animosity towards each other—even the ones friendly towards one another—this made any couple an easy target.
Rebecca gestured around. “Look at this place. Was this safe? What if Hermes had done this without you guys around? You’d be picking me up from the floor. . . whatever’s left.”
“He would never—”
“How do you know? We can’t control what others do. . . they’ll do it anyway. We can control what we do.”
“I know you’ve heard the stories.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard most mortals don’t make it past day one.”
He confirmed, “That is true.”
“Well then, count me lucky.”
He smiled. “You’re too strong. Olympus would be different if you were a goddess.”
She scoffed. “Of course, it would, but where’s the fun in that? You wanted danger. I wanted danger. You wanted love. I’ve been looking all the wrong places all my life and happen to find some of it where I’m not supposed to.”
Dionysus stared at her, trying to decide what to do. Whatever she may say, his resolve still impeded his heart. . . and subsequently his genitals. He ventured, “And if
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