Page 66 of This Divine Revelry

‘And what, dear wife –’ his voice is low, and he leans towards me before his hand shoots out – ‘is this?’

Between his fingers, he holds a gold headpiece, vines twirling around clusters of grapes. The one my mother had made to follow the fashions lauded after … the advent of wine.

Dionysus’s gleeful smirk says he knows exactly what it is.

I suspect annoyance is not actually a defence, but a natural and inevitable response to this man.

‘Tacky, isn’t it? I was going to have it smelted.’

‘Well, what a lucky coincidence that you married the god of wine before you could,’ he says, raising the tiara to my head, and I try to push his hands away but it does little to deter him. I scramble backwards as he follows.

‘No! I’m not wearing that!’ I say, but the words are barely audible through my laughter as we fight one another, me pushing at his hands as he tries to worm his way around me.

The backs of my knees hit the bed and I tumble down on to it. He follows, hovering over me as he finally manages to place the crown on my head.

His face is level with mine and so very close. I see the way each breath catches in his throat, the slow rise and fall of his chest. The memory of the kiss at the docks is fresh, burning – but there’s no one here to see, no one to perform for. My eyes catch on his lips nonetheless and from this angle his copper curls fall forward, framing him like a halo of sunlight.

One of his hands still holds my wrist and the other fumbles at my hair but now it is more of a caress.

‘It really suits you, Ariadne,’ he says, the humour gone.

I know Dionysus is beautiful, but it’s a beauty I tend to notice when I look into his eyes or linger on his flowing waves. It is not just the green of his eyes but the brightness – the way they shine with his every emotion. Not just the curls but the way they move, each lock tumbling of its own accord, like even they cannot be contained.

But now, this close, I take in all the other parts of him that I do not often pause to admire. There’s a slight groove across the bridge of his nose, like the scar from a scratch. A scant handful of freckles shine across his cheeks. They remind me of the diadem he cast up, the specific placement of every single dot. And his eyes, always captivating, are no lone emerald shade but flecked like sunlight breaking through the foliage, deepening as they reach the pupils – wide and dark and watching me right back.

‘Everything suits you,’ I say softly, reaching to push his curls behind his ear. ‘Even the blasted pine cones.’

‘Don’t go complimenting me, Ariadne. I won’t know what to do with it.’

The energy between us is so palpable it sizzles in my skin, beneath my skin even – every part of me far too hot. I meet his eyes, wondering if the sun is flaring within mine once more.

‘You know exactly what to do with it.’

His hand languidly trails from my hair to stroke my cheek.

‘I thought we agreed neither of us was in a good enough place for a relationship.’

I swallow. ‘I never said anything about a relationship.’

His thumb brushes my lips, a smooth, gentle caress as he leans in closer. ‘Is this what you want?’

Is it?

There is no surging panic, no haunting memory, just one word again and again until it comes out in a breathy exhale: ‘Yes.’

He draws nearer and I close my eyes, anticipating the press of his lips.

Instead his breath is hot against my ear.

‘Seduce me, then.’

My eyes shoot open as he adjusts the tiara he’d placed on my head. He arches a brow at it while he climbs off me. ‘That’s a pretty good start.’

I should have known he’d turn this into another game. Should have known it would amuse him to deny me just like I once denied him.

The irritation is as warm in my blood as the lust was, and now they’re mingling and gods above, what is wrong with me? How is his teasing me like this making me burn for him more fervently?

As I ready myself for the evening, I let my skirt ride up my thigh as I lounge on the bed, lean over for jewels so that my chiton gapes and brush far too close to him as I move around my small room. His chuckles tell me he knows exactly what I’m doing, though his wandering eyes and the lingering glint in them make clear it’s working regardless.