Free Dionysus (Greek God Romance Book 1) by Alicia Wolfe

This was why he has been so adamant about escorting me home and getting whatever the hell Heph made.
    Dionysus snapped, “Get that shit out of here.”
    The place went silent. The lesser “monsters” slowly backed up and towards the exit.
    “Excuse me?”
    “That old school bullshit, Ares. Get it out of here.”
    Ares beamed. He swigged his mug of beer and slammed the empty glass on the counter, shattering it and sending pieces of glass to each end.
    “That’s all I needed to know.” Ares walked out of the bar, a slight stumble towards the end.
    Dionysus swore, “Damn it, I hate that little shit.”
    Rebecca said, “Seems pretty big to me.”
    “I guess Aphrodite was right.”
    “And?”
    He smiled from ear to ear, a devil in his eye; she knew Dionysus had plans, big ones. “He’ll get his, once in the butt and once by me.”
    Rebecca rested her arm on the counter and placed her head in her hand. She asked, “You going to play with the golden dildo too?”
    “Oh, shut up.” He saluted her with his beer. “I’ve got something in the works. It’ll be my chance to verify all the fun he’ll have tonight.”
    “Oh. . .?”
    He grinned madly in reply.
    “Care to share?”
    He finished his beer. “On our way to Heph’s in a few days, I’ll fill you in.”
    “Can’t wait.”
    He smiled besides himself. He loved how interested she was.

YOU’RE LATE
    Hera liked to have her meetings at the pool house. There was one bedroom, an exercise area with a TV where she liked to organize her thoughts or viciously attack the elliptical, and a conference room she had built there, unbeknownst to Zeus.
    Zeus knew nothing about the pool house—just that it was a pool house. He didn’t care for the water—much like he never ventured to the Underworld, water could render him powerless if his brother, Poseidon, so desired. . . His brother so desired.
    Hera sat down on one of the leather chairs around the mahogany table. The table had enough seating for eight and an intercom in the middle. It was designed to mimic a conference room at any high-level cooperation. A passion of hers: she was on the board of a few Fortune 500 companies under various aliases and disguises. She loved it, pined for it. Yelling, espionage, vengeance, the board room was a delight. She, more than anyone on Olympus, loved how bloody the world had become.
    She waited for Ares, drumming her fingers on the table. One of the many things she hated about gods was the lack of punctuality. No one in the business world would do this to her. This only fed her ire and indignation before Ares arrived.
    Ares opened the door, a rush of drunkenness had beseeched him.
    “You’re late.”
    “I hate trouble with the—”
    “Enough. What do you have for me?”
    “I have verification that Dionysus has a lo—love interest.” He shook his head. The world shook back. He grabbed a chair, clasped on to it with his hands then unsteadily sat down. Slurring? Dizziness? How could this be?
    “Oh. . .? You don’t say. . . I’ve been meaning to deliver a lesson to him for some time. The bastard child, the dribbling fool, what was a demigod that should’ve been easily crushed underfoot spawned into an Olympian. He taints everything we are.” She shook her head, a rage already brewing.
    In texts, Ares was portrayed as an irrationally angry god. . . What was never addressed was where he got it from. Hera made sure to expunge that information from ancient lore.
    She drummed the table more vigorously. “I’ve never. . . never got to extract my true revenge for my husband’s crime with that one.”
    Ares nodded. The god of war, destruction, violence and whose children were fear, terror, and discord paled in comparison to Hera when she was entangled with fury’s clutches. It made him adjust himself in his seat nervously. This also brought another bout of tipsiness, this time, his surroundings shook vehemently.
    “And?”
    He hesitated. “And?”
    “What