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“I don’t understand,” she said. “You use your magic to conduct orgies in this square, and yet outside this, you—”
Dionysus gave her a harsh look, warning her not to finish that sentence. All he needed was this mouthy detective to ruin everything he’d worked hard to establish here.
“Why?”
“Consensual sex is not unwilling. You of all people should know that. Those who come to this square, they want to fuck, and they don’t care with who.”
“I do not come here to fuck,” she said.
“Perhaps you should,” he said. “You might be a little more bearable.”
She glared at him, her mouth tightening, but her silence did not last long.
“Do you participate?” she asked.
Dionysus looked at her. “Why?”
“I just wondered,” she said, looking away quickly.
“I suppose that depends on your definition ofparticipate.”
“What other definition is there?”
“In reference to the festival, you could be asking me anything. Do I dance? Do I sing? Do I—”
“Do you fuck strangers, Dionysus?” Ariadne snapped, clearly fed up with him.
He smirked in triumph, but it only lasted a moment, because he soon realized just how frustrated she was.
“No,” he said finally. “Or at least…not in a long time.”
A strange and awkward silence descended between them, and they did not speak until they reached Maiden House, a sleek, two-story building with no windows.
Before they entered, Dionysus turned to Ariadne.
“I need to know if you’re going to be okay,” he said. “If I…can touch you.”
She studied his face. “If it means finding Medusa and getting my sister back, I can do anything.”
He gave a sharp nod.
They entered the brothel and were immediately thrust into darkness. Already, Dionysus found himself reaching for Ariadne, his arm snaking around her waist. He pulled her against him, his mouth near her ear.
“As badly as you may want to,” he said, “don’t open your mouth.”
He could just imagine the look she was giving him. He could feel her anger, but he was surprised when she didn’t shove him away. She did, however, dig her nails into his arm.
“Dionysus! The god of the hour!” Michail said as he approached, pristine in appearance. He was an older man with thinning hair he kept smoothed back to hide an obvious shining bald spot.
Dionysus shook his hand and offered a one-armed embrace.
“And who is this…lovely creature?” Michail asked.
Dionysus turned to look at Ariadne. He expected to see her scowl at being called a creature, but she’d transformed and plastered a sweet smile on her face.
“This is…Phaedra,” he said, immediately regretting the choice of name, especially as he noticed Ariadne’s smile falter for a second.
“Phaedra,” Michail purred. “Aren’t you a beauty? I did not know you hired hetairai, Dionysus.”
