Page 17 of Ungodly Rich

Though the Olympians were too proud to admit it, especially not to one another, this was the worry that constantly plagued them—the danger of becoming irrelevant. The fear that they might lose too many followers and wake up one morning to find that they’d slipped out of the Twelve.

Ares knew he had nothing to worry about. Humans would always find new reasons to keep fighting one another.

“Sounds like you’re talkingyourbook, Ares,” Hephaestus replied quietly. “Everyone knows that if those young men aren’t in the mines, they’ll join the army.”

That was the moment everything went south.

Ares tried to persuade the other gods, but their eyes had already glazed over with disinterest. They all believed what Hephaestus had implied: that Ares had suggested closing the mines for his own gain, not that of the mortals. Teenage boys who should have been out in the worldliving,instead of down in the dark, mining elements for the construction of cell phones.

In the end, the other gods all voted against him—except for Aphrodite.

Ares had stormed out of the council meeting, not bothering to stay for Dionysus’s rambling plea about something called Fyre Festival. Anger pounded through his veins with each heartbeat. Why did he bother showing up to these meetings when his family ignored him? He should follow Hades’s example and stay away.

He started down the path with long, tense strides. The Olympians’ private villas were scattered over the island, all made of bright white plaster, with curved archways and high ceilings. Ares saw his own villa in the distance and quickened his steps, only to nearly collide with a figure running from the main house.

“Sorry.” Ares reflexively put his hands on Aphrodite’s shoulders to steady her. She was wearing a dress with thin straps, her skin warm beneath his palms. He quickly let go.

“Thank you,” he added gruffly, “for being the only one who supported me in there.”

“You made a compelling argument,” Aphrodite replied. As if she knew it was precisely what he needed to hear.

Ares let out an angry breath and stared at the ocean. Gulls whooped and soared over its deep blue surface. “I hate these meetings. My opinion never matters.”

“Nor does mine,” Aphrodite murmured. “The other goddesses all hate me.”

Ares should have probably made some kind of polite protest, but they would both have known it for a lie. The other goddessesdiddespise Aphrodite, probably because they were all jealous. Ares felt a surprising beat of kinship with his sister-in-law in that moment. No one understood them.

“You’re still angry.” Aphrodite tilted her head toward the beach in an alluring movement. “Come on, I’ll show you where I go when I’m upset.”

Ares followed her to a small crescent of beach past the dunes. The air was cool, but the sand still felt warm from the day’s sun. The ocean was gentler here, its waves broken by rock formations a hundred feet from shore, creating tidepools of shells and starfish that glittered like gemstones.

“See? It’s impossible not to feel calm here.” Aphrodite leaned back on a blanket that she’d conjured out of nowhere and closed her eyes. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a soft curtain. Ares was acutely aware of all her bare, tanned skin, of how low her dress skimmed over her body. She opened her eyes, her lashes startlingly dark, and patted the blanket next to her. “Come on,” she purred. “Sit with me.”

Ares realized what she was doing—what she was offering. The air seemed to swirl around him in a perfumed cloud, tugging him toward her perfect body.

Later, when the family would gossip about what had happened, they would all proclaim that Ares slept with Aphrodite because he’d been pissed off at Hephaestus. But Ares had barely thought of his brother, except perhaps to acknowledge that this would hurt Hephaestus if he found out.He won’t find out,Ares told himself now, or perhapshe no longer cared. The only sensation pounding through his veins was white-hot desire.

He wanted Aphrodite more than he’d ever wanted anything in his immortal life. He wanted her with a hunger that felt all-consuming, a hunger so combustible that he felt certain he must have her, right now, or he would die.

They fell back together onto the blanket, drowning in a vortex of lust and longing.

If only Hephaestus hadn’t known that this inlet was Aphrodite’s favorite spot. They might have been able to pretend this whole thing had never happened, to add it to the long list of secrets the Olympians kept from one another.

But Hephaestus did find them. And roared like some wild, wounded animal.

Ares hadn’t known that his brother, normally so self-contained, could make such a sound. Dozens of gods gathered around within moments, staring at the titillating sight of Ares and Aphrodite, who both hurried to put their clothes on. Hephaestus turned to Zeus as if waiting for his judgment. The silence was deafening.

Ares also looked at his father, the most notoriously unfaithful god of all. To his relief, Zeus’s eyes were crinkled with unmistakable amusement.

“Oh, Ares,” Hera cried out, aghast. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “What have you done?”

At his wife’s words, Zeus hurried to give a stern frown. “I’m disappointed in both of you,” he began, but Hephaestus stepped forward, red-faced and imposing.

“I will deal with Aphrodite. This is a private matter.” Hephaestus’s voice rang out like a hammer striking metal. Then he turned to Ares. Power lifted his hair from his head, as if he were caught in an inferno of his own making. “As for my brother, he must leave. Now.”

Ares blinked. “I swear, I didn’t—”

“Leave,” his brother boomed. “You claim to be a man of honor, yet you are the most despicable of all of us. Leave, Ares, and don’t come back.”