Mortals already told stories about my family—some true, some embellished, some outright ridiculous, and Adonis took great joy in relaying them to me. We made a game of it; he would remove or replace the names, and I would try to guess which member of my family he was talking about. I’d never laughed so hard in my entire existence.
I didn’t kiss him though, and while we held hands, he never pressed for more. I couldn’t give it to him, not while it was still winter. Not while I was still Hades’s. Being here was enough betrayal on its own. I couldn’t make things worse no matter how tempting Adonis was.
I ached for spring to come. We talked about Mother’s cottage and how we might get one of our own; Adonis had never had a home before, not a proper one he’d chosen for himself, and he relished the idea of seeing the place that had become my summer retreat. As spring neared, I grew giddy with the thought of showing him my home and sharing my summer with him. He, in turn, was never too embarrassed to tell me exactly how excited he was, as well.
That was the best part about being with him—the honesty. The openness. After millennia of enduring the lies and secrets within my family, even down in the Underworld, it was a relief not to question every word he said. He was everything I’d ever wanted, and even if I could only have him as a friend, that would still be more than I’d ever thought I’d have.
But I did want more. I longed to kiss him, to touch him, to bask in his outer beauty as much as I enjoyed the beauty inside. We were perfect together in every way, and as soon as I could, I would steal him from Aphrodite and give him the life he wanted. The life he deserved. The life we both deserved.
Days before the spring equinox, he and I sat together on the beach, our hands clasped as we laughed over a story he’d told me about his childhood. I was oblivious to our surroundings, barely aware of time passing at all, and it was only the look on Adonis’s face that alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.
I turned. Standing in the sand, her arms crossed and a scowl on her pretty little face, was Aphrodite.
Lovely.
“I wasn’t aware it was spring already. What are you doing here?” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
“Talking to a friend,” I said, not bothering to match her tone. Adonis knew exactly how I felt about her. “What are you doing here? Cheating on your dozen boyfriends?”
She scoffed. “Only a dozen? You severely underestimate me. Hi, love,” she said to Adonis. “Is Persephone bothering you? I can make her leave, if you’d like.”
I bristled. “Make me leave? How? By cooing at me?”
“Don’t you have a husband to get back to?” she snapped.
“Don’t you?”
She sniffed. “He knows exactly where I am, though I’m willing to bet Hades has absolutely no idea where you are. You do know who she is, don’t you, Adonis? And who her husband is? He controls your afterlife, you know. Are you really willing to risk that?”
Adonis stared at our intertwined fingers. At least he wasn’t trying to make me let go, but he didn’t say anything, either. I squeezed his hand.
“Adonis and I are friends, nothing more.” The urge to rip her hair out twisted inside me, and it took every ounce of my self-control to stay seated. “Though he will be coming to stay with me on the spring equinox.”
“Is that so?” Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. “And who decided that?”
“Adonis did.”
She huffed. “You have no right to come here and steal him like—”
“Like what? Like you stole Hermes?”
She let out a bitter, empty laugh. “Is that why you’re doing this? Because of Hermes? That was eons ago.”
“I’m doing this because Adonis is my friend, and I love him,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “It’s his life, and you don’t get a say in it.”
“Adonis, tell her,” demanded Aphrodite, not taking her eyes off me. I glared back. “Adonis.”
To my immense satisfaction, Adonis said nothing. I smirked, even though it was petty, and Aphrodite let out a frustrated screech that startled the seagulls.
“Daddy!” she shrieked, and even though the sky was blue and clear, thunder rumbled through the air. Adonis’s eyes widened, and he started to stand, but I gently tugged on his hand.
“It’s fine,” I said quietly. “He won’t hurt you.” I hoped.
Lightning sizzled on the beach, and in the blink of an eye, Zeus arrived. No chance in hell he would’ve come that quickly if I’d been the one to call. Standing an even distance away from us, he frowned and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Dare I even ask?”
Aphrodite was in tears now, and of course she looked beautiful when she cried. I hated her. “Per-Persephone is trying to steal Adonis from me.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? He wants to stay with me, and he has every right to choose his own life.”
“He already chose me long before you showed up, you cow.”
“Cow? You vain little—”
“Enough, girls.” Zeus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aphrodite, start at the beginning.”
She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, looking down her nose at me. “Adonis and I’ve been together for ages. We love each other, and we’re perfect together, naturally.”
“If you’re so perfect together, then why do you keep him trapped on this island?” I said.