Aphrodite froze, her divine senses flaring as she saw the unspoken emotion flicker in Nikolas's eyes. It wasn't just anger anymore—it was a tempest of confusion, shame, and something darker that made her blood chill. She had lived for centuries, seen desires of every shade, but this… This was different. Twisted. A perverse consequence of divine blood coursing through mortal veins.
Nikolas turned away abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides. His breaths were ragged, the firelight casting his shadow large and looming against the wall.
"I didn't ask for this," he muttered, his voice breaking like a boy's but carrying the weight of a man's torment. "To be... this thing. This half-god. Half-monster."
'He doesn't understand,' Aphrodite thought, stepping forward cautiously. Her maternal instincts warred with her divinity, which warned her to tread carefully.
