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It took him a few moments to shake the feeling, but by the time the yacht came to port, he had managed to gain control.
Poseidon’s staff extended a ramp from the ship to the pier, and Silenus was all too eager to board.
Dionysus placed a hand on his foster father’s shoulder. “No drinking,” he warned. “We are not here for your pleasure.”
“I know, I know,” the satyr said, shaking him off and ascending the plank.
They boarded, and it was like stepping into a massive orgy. Some passengers danced, but most were engaging in varied sexual acts.
“This way,” said one of the attendants who had lowered the ramp. He turned and cut through the crowd.
Dionysus followed and dragged his foster father along, not releasing him until they entered the interior part of the yacht. It was just as crowded, but at least his fuckery would be contained.
Inside, the music was muted, the environment far more calm. People lounged about in various positions across the floor and furniture, save for a large circular couch, which was where Poseidon waited. He sat with his arms stretched out across the back.
Unlike other gods who often concealed their true forms, Poseidon rarely wore glamour. Because of this, he seemed to glow, his aura gilded and brilliant. He wore gold cuffs and a gold crown that sat at the base of his striking spiral horns. If Dionysus didn’t know better, he would assume Poseidon was just more comfortable in his god form, but the reality was that it made him feel bigger and far more powerful than everyone else in the room.
“Dionysus,” Poseidon said, eyes glittering, as if he were already amused by his presence. “Come, sit. Have a nap.”
Dionysus ignored him and jumped straight to business. “I’ve been informed that you may know the whereabouts of a woman I’m searching for,” he said.
Poseidon tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. “You used to be so fun. What happened?”
“Youknowwhat happened,” Dionysus said.
Poseidon studied him for a moment and then took a breath. “You know what makes men weak, Dionysus?”
Dionysus waited for the god to continue, though he knew he would not like his words.
“Women,” Poseidon said, holding up a hand before Dionysus could speak. “Hear me out. Hera has stolen your peace, changed you into this…sullen man. She has made you weak.”
Dionysus’s fingers curled into fists, his anger roaring to life.
“I’m not interested in your opinions, Poseidon. I’ve only come to ask if you know a woman by the name of Medusa. She was apparently last seen on your shores, and now she is missing.”
“How should I know? So many women come and go,” Poseidon said airily.
“A woman is missing. She might be in trouble or worse, and that is all you have to say?” Though he was not surprised, Dionysus was still disgusted.
“I cannot imagine why you care so much about this one woman. Have you not rescued thousands on your little mission to end trafficking? By the way, how is that going?” Poseidon paused, his brows lowering. “Do you ever tell them about your past? When you would strike women with such madness they would fall on your dick blindly?”
“You know nothing of what you speak,” Dionysus said, his body vibrating with anger.
“Well, perhaps we remember the past differently.”
“This was a mistake,” he said.
He should have listened to his gut and not tried to please Ariadne.
“The girl staying at your house,” Poseidon said. “Has she fallen on your dick too?”
Dionysus froze.
He wasn’t sure why everyone seemed so obsessed with his dick.
“Since when do you care who I fuck?”
“I suppose it’s been a while,” Poseidon mused. “As it is, I do not care, but my son cares whoshefucks.”
