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“I’ve found her,” said the voice—Perseus, the demigod son of Zeus.
Theseus said nothing and waited for him to continue.
“She’s with Dionysus in the pleasure district. They’re on the hunt for Medusa.”
He was not surprised. He’d heard the rumors about the woman—her beauty first and then her supposed power.
She could turn men into stone.
He had suspected Dionysus of searching for her when he’d bought the Graeae’s services, and he’d considered that when he’d had them murdered, he would lose the fastest route to finding her—but there were other ways to locate a scared woman.
Perseus, for example.
A new set of photos came through on his tablet, and he scrolled through him. Ariadne was dressed in a short, black dress and high boots. She looked fuckable. Perhaps she had been fucked.
“Is she fucking him yet?” Theseus asked. He meant to express the question nonchalantly, but a hot blade of jealousy shot through him at the thought. Despite his marriage to her sister, Phaedra, Ariadne belonged to him too. She would always belong to him, even if she found temporary reprieve in the hands of this god.
And when she returned to him—and shewouldbecause he had her sister—she would pay for straying, for thinking for an instant that she could defeat him.
“Not sure,” Perseus replied.
“Keep following her,” Theseus said. “She’ll lead us to Medusa eventually, and when the time is right, we’ll take both.”
He hung up the phone and continued looking through the photos, his cock growing harder the longer he did. Before he’d married Phaedra, he had dated Ariadne. He’d liked her more than her sister. She liked to fuck and fuck hard. There was nothing soft about her, but therein lay the problem.
Ariadne would not be controlled, at least not on her own, but through her sister, who was so easily swayed with a few pretty words, she was malleable in his hands.
Thatmade him harder, and he let himself think about what he would do when she did return to him and demand to see her sister.
Perhaps he would agree and let her watch as he fucked Phaedra. Her horror would make him come, andwhen he did, he’d force his dick into her mouth and fill her throat.
Theseus looked up, sensing movement, and found Phaedra lingering in the doorway. She was dressed in a long silk nightgown and a matching robe that did not even close around her round belly.
The contrast of how she dressed compared to her sister was not lost on him. His wife rarely even wished to undress for sex, but Ariadne, she would roam the house naked, as if it were her natural state.
“Phaedra,” he said, locking his tablet as he set it down on his desk. “You should be resting.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, watching him from the door. “You…haven’t come to bed.”
Despite her modesty, she was beautiful. Her softness made her the perfect bride—a trophy he could parade about in public—and her timidness ensured she would never communicate her doubts or her fears about him.
She was the safe choice.
“You know things have been busy.”
“Of course,” she said. “I only came to check on you.”
He managed a smile because he thought that was what she would most like—some acknowledgment that he cared that she cared.
“I am fine,” he said. “Just busy.”
Except that she did not act as she usually did with his reassurance—which was to fold. Instead, she lingered.
“Busy with Ariadne?” she said, her voice quiet, and he wondered why, if she feared his response, she said it at all.
Theseus clenched his jaw. This defiance was new.
Phaedra hesitated and then added quietly, almost in a whisper, “I heard you.”
