The days following their union were a haze of passion and unspoken consequences. Aphrodite, the goddess of love and fertility, had never known restraint, but this—this was something forbidden even among the gods. Her divine nature burned brightly in the aftermath, her body attuned to creation in ways even she could not fully control. And Nikolas, her son and now her lover, had shattered the gods' decrees with his actions.
Aphrodite reclined on a bed of soft moss in the grove they had claimed as their sanctuary. Her golden hair shimmered in the moonlight, her eyes half-lidded as she watched Nikolas sharpen a blade by the fire. His jaw was set in determination, his body taut with tension. He spoke little these days, his thoughts consumed by vengeance and the growing shadow of their sin.
