Chapter 9
WHERE THE SHEETS ARE SET ON FIRE (AFTER A DOOR ENCOUNTERS SIMILAR FATE BECAUSE APPARENTLY DOING IT STANDING UP IS A THING)
W as Erato comfortable being the center of attention of an entire ballroom? No. But was she happy having been taken to task by both Sabine and Aphrodite? Also no.
Still, she had one thing going for her and it was Demeter holding on to her shoulders tightly, her palms warm and soft on Erato’s linen covered skin.
And then there was, of course, the dancing part. Which meant their thighs brushed against each other, their breasts rubbed deliciously and Erato could say that perhaps all that above mentioned discomfort might be worth it?
If only this feeling of euphoria and invincibility would last.
Demeter leaned closer, her hot breath on Erato’s cheek, her lips tenderly brushing her earlobe.
On the edges of the ballroom, Poseidon was joined by Hera to watch them dance, their expressions a study of jealousy from the former and irritability from the latter.
But none of that mattered, none of them mattered.
Erato was holding Demeter. They were swaying to some obscure snooty composer’s masterpiece, and everything was right in the world.
“I think you overestimate how much privacy the six feet that separate us gives you and underestimate how good my hearing is, Muse.”
Yeah, the said feeling of euphoria and invincibility did not last.
As Erato played back the conversations she had with Dite and Sabine, the scolding, the innuendos, she cringed. Inwardly at first. Then at seeing Demeter watching her closely, outwardly.
“Aphrodite is very fond of you, Erato.”
The way her name fell off Demeter’s lips made Erato bite her lip. The sound, the cadence… She’d give everything for this to become a regular occurrence. She’d also give everything for this line of conversation to stop.
“Aphrodite has always been fond of her minions. Sabine there is proof enough.”
She infused her voice with as much nonchalance as she could, but Demeter just kept looking at her, amber eyes inscrutable.
“You can play that card, but the Goddess of Love is rarely wrong in her assessments, unless it’s about the men in her life. Then she tends to reach for the lowest hanging fruit, forgetting that it’s always the one to rot first as well.”
Erato tried unsuccessfully to cover her laughter, then let it go, throwing her head back and enjoying this moment of quiet, shared intimacy and the spice of humor between them.
Of course, then she had to go and say something stupid. Par for the course for her lately.
“Poseidon is very fond of you, though, so that makes us even in the affection from the Olympians department.”
The smile was whipped clean off Demeter’s face.
“Poseidon wants a wife who will indulge his every whim, fix his mistakes and cater to his weaponized incompetence, all the while believing that he is the greatest gift the titans have given Earth. And while I realize that everyone sees me as somewhat motherly and matronly because I take care of them all?—”
Erato simply laid a finger on Demeter’s lips, effectively stopping the flow of angry words.
“I do not.”
Under her fingertip, the lips moved with a question.
“What?”
Erato trailed her fingertip back and forth, caressing the soft mouth.
“I don’t think you are motherly or matronly.”
Demeter’s eyes, the ones just a second ago consumed by rage, softened and the ballroom fell away. Poseidon, Hera, Sabine and Dite and everyone around them vanished under the light of the gentle eyes that watched her with something akin to awe. With something that had never been directed her way.
Erato thought Hermes might’ve lent her his wings.
Her fingers dipped lower, grasping Demeter’s chin, opening the tender mouth, and then she covered it with her own.
Right there, in front of the Gods and people.
In front of enemies and friends. A gasp was her answer, she could’ve sworn Demeter froze in her arms. As Erato was about to lift her face and let go, start apologizing, start explaining where her foolhardy bravery came from, Demeter’s fingers dove into the short hair at the base of her neck and pulled her closer, gripped hard and slanted her mouth just so, deepening the kiss.
And now the gasps were coming from all around them, except Erato didn’t care. The most beautiful woman in the world was kissing her, nay, devouring her in front of the whole world and wasn’t that a reason to…
“Muse, endeavour to take your hands off my sister?”
Hera’s voice was low but the note of anger within it was signaled loud and clear even as Erato and Demeter separated under the icy silver gaze.
“Muse, I thought you joked when you were together…”
Poseidon’s train of conversation got derailed by the sheer steel in Demeter’s eyes as she rounded on him and her sister.
“How dare you?”
Hera closed her mouth. Poseidon opened his. Big mistake.
“Shut up. How dare either of you make a laughingstock out of me?”
“You were doing so well on your own, little sister, just then, trying to swallow the muse whole. Unless she needed resuscitation and you were offering a mouth to mouth, I see no need to have made such a spectacle of yourself.”
Erato could see smoke coming out of Demeter’s ears. The gaskets were officially blown and any second now?—
“I don’t know… I rather enjoyed the show…
” The unmistakable drawl, accompanied by the immediate drop in temperature, signaled that a certain Goddess was back.
Indeed, Nemesis leaned against a column, possibly even a Corinthian one, giving the entire scene in front of her what could only be described as an improper look.
“The muse is hot and Demeter? Well, I think I am discovering a decidedly voyeuristic predilection within myself.”
Hera’s glare turned deadly. Erato licked her dry lips and grabbed a glass of something fizzy off a poor server’s tray. The man disappeared with such haste, Erato found it truly wise. Commendable even. Men were rarely this smart. As if to prove it, Poseidon spoke up.
“But Demeter, you said you will never date again, because sure if you are to do so, I am the first and last on your dance card?—”
“Oh, do shut up!”
Hera and Demeter’s outburst ensured silence reigned. Nemesis smirked. Sabine smiled. Erato sipped her drink and pretended like not only she wasn’t there, she also wasn’t so impossibly turned on by Demeter’s show of her godly prowess. She was getting decidedly uncomfortable in her underwear.
As if to push her further, Demeter spoke up again. This time her own voice was clear as crystal and not a note over the necessary level of decibels to be heard by the meddling gods and goddesses.
“You all have interfered enough. And don’t you forget that I still wear this ridiculous bond you’ve thrust on me, big sister.” The mocking tone did decidedly sexual things to Erato’s insides. “Enjoy your evening.”
Demeter turned away, pulling Erato slowly after her. Not that she would have stayed, because no way Erato would’ve allowed Demeter anywhere out of her sight after their dance and their kiss and whatever it was that the Goddess of Harvest just did, that made everyone in the room look at her in awe.
Erato cleared her throat as she walked backwards.
“And with that, I have to leave you, immortals. Thank you for the dinner and the show. Please do not call or write. Grand things await your faithful muse. Oh and Hera, would you take care of this for me? There’s a dear.
” Just before the thread snapped at her wrist, she handed Hera—really only because she was the closest—her empty flute and was gone, pulled behind the unstoppable force that was Demeter, determined to exit the ballroom and leave the Olympians far behind.
She was on Demeter the second the door to their hotel suite closed behind them, only to be stopped by a firm hand to her sternum.
“Ah-ah-ah!” The hand might’ve been firm, but the voice was honey itself. Soft, enticing.
“Wha…” Erato’s question was cut off by a bruising kiss. A kiss that ended her train of thought. A kiss that took her breath away and rendered her helpless, hanging on every touch of those lips that took and took and took from her, and she was ready to give till she dropped.
Dropping, however, was not an option because a knee insinuated itself between her legs and was more than enough leverage to keep Erato upright.
Every time she slid down the mahogany oak of the door, the knee pressed up against her already sensitive flesh, not helped by her very tight leather pants—yes, of course Erato wore leather pants to an official function, why would she not, when her ass looked like that—and she lost another little piece of her already far gone mind.
She had been with goddesses, muses, mortals. She even got seduced by a Fate once. Though Erato preferred not to speak of that incident. But absolutely nobody on Earth, Olympus, or the Underworld had power over her like Demeter did.
One look, one touch, one kiss and Erato melted, lost her mind, forgot her concerns about even attempting to dream about the one Goddess who was so off limits she might as well not exist at all.
But when Demeter’s lips nipped at hers, when Demeter’s teeth none too gently tugged at her lower lip, when Demeter murmured words that Erato was too distracted to pay attention too… When all of that combined Erato forgot why the Goddess of Harvest was off limits for a lowly muse.
Although the words… Maybe she should pay more, because the words…
“I think you have already touched enough, Erato. I think during our first night together you touched and kissed and licked and fucked and while I was left so satisfied, so thoroughly debauched… I was also left bereft of my chance to ravish you.”
Yeah, the words robbed Erato of the last vestiges of intelligence. She nodded, mutely, her mouth hanging open and Demeter’s finger traced the lower lip before her teeth bit it again, sending shock waves down Erato’s body.