Return of the...Goddess

Two days. Two good days.

The kind of days you hadn’t realized just how much you needed. The kind where you didn’t wake up feeling like the ground beneath your feet was shifting constantly, like you were always trying to catch your balance, bracing yourself for the next inevitable storm.

These last two days? Normal. Or, at least, as close to normal as your life could get now.

After finally clearing the air with Liam, things had just…fallen back into place. It wasn’t exactly like before, but it was close enough. You weren’t avoiding each other anymore.

You were just...friends. Again. And fuck, that felt good.

You stretched slightly, adjusting your position on your bed, your laptop propped up on your thighs as you furiously typed.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you muttered under your breath, deleting a sentence only to type it out again with a slight rewording.

Across from you, sprawled out on his own bed, Liam let out an amused huff. “You’re just mad you’re behind.”

You shot him a look. “That’s because someone decided to get all pissy and stop sharing his notes with me.”

Liam didn’t even pretend to look guilty. “Well, someone decided to ghost me for a month.”

You scowled. “I already apologized for that.”

“And I already forgave you,” Liam said, grinning. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna enjoy watching you suffer a little.”

You groaned. “You’re a bitch.”

Liam snorted. “And yet, here I am, still helping you.”

You huffed. Okay, fine. He was helping you. He’d dumped a ton of his notes on you over the last two days, giving you everything from detailed outlines to summaries to even a few half-written drafts of assignments. It had saved your ass big time, but it also meant you were spending an insane amount of time carefully rewording everything so you wouldn’t immediately get flagged for plagiarism.

At least Liam’s writing style was dramatically different from yours—he tended to be way more blunt and concise, while you preferred adding a little flair. A little style. A little bullshit.

“Okay, okay,” you said, exhaling, tapping your fingers against the keyboard. “In her seminal essay ‘The Posthuman Condition’—”

Liam snorted. “We get it, you have a thesaurus.”

You shot him a glare. “I swear to god, Liam—”

He just smirked. “Relax, you’re doing fine.”

You groaned, dropping your head back against the pillows.

Liam let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. His laptop sat on his stomach, his own work already finished, because of course it was. The asshole had actually kept up with everything over the last month, while you had been busy sucking dick for cash, playing Aphrodite’s twisted games, and—oh yeah—having your first-ever real orgasm on Damian Kane’s cock.

…Yeah. You were really behind.

You glanced up at Liam, watching as he scrolled idly through some article on his screen. His brows furrowed slightly, expression relaxed, and for a moment, you just looked at him.

This—this was good. This was right.

The last two days had been easy. Comfortable. Filled with dumb arguments and shared snacks and lazy afternoons catching up on assignments. It almost felt like you had your best friend back. And fuck, if that didn’t feel better than anything else right now.

You exhaled, shifting slightly on your bed, the soft material of your outfit brushing against your skin.

Today’s look? Flawless.

You’d settled on a simple black bra, the fabric hugging your curves just right, paired with matching panties that sat high on your hips. Over that, you wore some basic black leggings, the fabric clinging to your thighs, smooth against your skin. Up top, you had on an cropped wrap top, showing just a hint of the cleavage beneath.

And the makeup? Oh, perfect.

A flawless base, a hint of contour to sculpt your cheekbones, warm brown eyeshadow smoked out at the edges, a sharp little wing to elongate your eyes. Your lips were painted in a soft, glossy nude, giving you that effortlessly put-together look.

Makeup was non-negotiable now.Every morning, no matter what, you did a full face, to some extent. It had become routine—just like slipping on lingerie, just like picking out the perfect outfit.

It was part of you now. And honestly? You liked it.

Knock, knock.

You froze. Liam immediately looked up from his laptop. You both turned toward the door. A heavy pause.

“…You think that’s her?” Liam murmured.

Aphrodite.

It had been almost five months now since this all began. And after the absolute mess that was the last trial—fucking Damian, getting caught up in Liam’s deal with the goddess, and whatever her long-term plans for you were—it only made sense that she’d be coming to talk about the next trial.

You inhaled sharply. Then, with an unreadable look, Liam swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” he muttered, standing.

Your pulse kicked up. Liam crossed the room in a few strides, hesitated for half a second, then pulled the door open. You held your breath.

“Well, well, well,” came a familiar, syrupy-sweet voice.

Your stomach dropped. Aphrodite was here.

Aphrodite steps into the dorm like she fucking owns the place, her hips swaying with an effortless confidence that makes you want to roll your eyes. Liam, who had reluctantly opened the door, tenses beside you, but the goddess barely acknowledges the thick tension in the air.

She makes her way to his bed like she’s been invited, sinking onto the mattress with a slow, deliberate grace, stretching out one leg as she crosses it over the other. Her perfectly pedicured toes peek out from sleek, strappy sandals, and unlike her usual over-the-top divine look, today she’s gone for something effortlessly sultry—a slinky, off-the-shoulder top in deep wine-red, hugging her curves just right, teasing without revealing too much. Paired with high-waisted black jeans that cling to her like a second fucking skin, the whole look just screams trouble.

Her golden-brown skin practically glows, as if winter’s bleakness outside doesn’t dare touch her. Dark, honeyed curls tumble in loose waves down her back, streaked with caramel and auburn highlights that catch the light when she moves. She’s unfairly beautiful, the kind of stunning that’s almost frustrating—full lips slicked in glossy nude, sharp, slightly upturned nose, and molten amber eyes lined in just enough kohl to smolder.

She smirks as Liam hesitates by the doorway, then finally chooses to sit beside you rather than across the room. Aphrodite notices, her smirk widening.

“Well, well, well,” she purrs. “Looks like someone’s gotten cozy again.” She tilts her head, pretending to examine the two of you. “What, no more storming off? No more brooding?” She lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her chest. “I almost miss the tension.”

You shoot her a glare, but Liam cuts in first. “Cut the fucking act, Aphrodite,” he says, folding his arms. “We know what you did. The visions, the manipulations, the...influence. You made me think things about her that weren’t true. You made her want things she wasn’t ready for.”

Aphrodite rolls her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. You say manipulation, I say encouragement. You both needed a little push. It worked out, didn’t it? You’re closer than ever now.”

Her gaze flicks to you, taking in the tension in your posture, the way your fingers curl slightly into your leggings. “Besides, you act like I was the one pulling all the strings. You had choices. You made them.

Your breath comes a little sharper, a little more uneven. “Yeah? And how much of those choices were actually mine? Actually his?” Your voice is steady, but the weight behind it is undeniable. “How much of what I wanted was me, and how much was you fucking around in my head?”

Aphrodite sighs like she’s exhausted with this conversation, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Sweetheart, you give me way too much credit. I didn’t **** you to do anything. I just made sure you saw the...consequences of Liam's actions.” Her lips curl, amused as she leans back, propping herself up with one arm. “And if I recall, you certainly didn’t resist those opportunities. You didn’t run. You didn’t stop.”

Liam’s jaw clenches, his whole body wound tight like he’s barely holding himself together, but Aphrodite flicks her wrist dismissively before he can start another argument.

“But, alas,” she drawls, “we don’t have time for this little blame game. Because, my dears, we have a much bigger matter at hand.” Her grin spreads, wicked and teasing, her eyes practically gleaming with excitement. “The final trial.”

Your stomach twists, a chill running through you as you exchange a glance with Liam. “Final trial?” you echo.

Aphrodite’s grin only widens. “Oh, yes. The grand finale. The ultimate test.” She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, voice dipping into something almost conspiratorial.

“I got a little visit from the Fates. You know, the ones who weave the very fabric of destiny?” She pauses, watching the way both you and Liam lean in slightly—despite yourselves—before continuing.

“They had a prophecy for me.”

The way she says it sends an uneasy shiver down your spine. She likes this. She’s savoring the moment, stretching it out just to see your reaction. And then, in a voice dripping with theatricality, she finally recites:

“The cursed one shall sleep with seven men, and only then shall their destiny be complete.”

Silence.

Liam blinks. You just stare at her, waiting for the punchline that doesn’t come.

“You’re fucking joking,” you finally say flatly. “You have to be joking.”

Aphrodite arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Liam lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Oh, that’s great. That’s just—wait, no. That’s bullshit. What does that even mean? ‘Destiny be complete’? What destiny?”

Aphrodite shrugs. “That’s the fun part. It’s divine prophecy, baby. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”

Your head is spinning. “So, what, I just have to—” You gesture vaguely, struggling to even say the words. “Seven men?”

“Yes.” Aphrodite beams. “Seven. No repeats.”

Liam groans, dropping his head into his hands. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh, and before you get any bright ideas,” Aphrodite continues, raising a finger, “this isn’t about just screwing whoever you can find. The connection has to be real.” She tilts her head, pretending to be thoughtful.

“No paying someone. No meaningless one-night stands just to tick a box. No easy outs.” Her expression turns sly. “You have to seduce them. Fully. Mind, body, and—dare I say—soul.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The sheer audacity of it has you frozen in place. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” Aphrodite leans back, stretching like a cat in the sun. “And you have just over a month. Plenty of time.”

Your stomach drops. “So this is it?”

“Yes, my dear, this is it for the last trial,” she repeats, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “That’s how long the Fates gave. Which means it’s all going to happen, whether you like it or not.” Her eyes gleam with something almost cruel in its amusement. “It’s destiny, darling. The question is…” She pauses, letting the tension hang thick in the air before her lips curve into a slow, satisfied smirk.

“How will you rise to the occasion?”

The air seemed thick with the weight of her words—the prophecy, the expectations, and the relentless tug of fate that was now pulling you deeper into this bizarre web she had spun.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said nonchalantly, as if the entire ordeal was just another casual challenge. “It’s not that complicated. You’re good at what you do.” Her eyes flicked to Liam for a brief moment, as though referencing the past events that had twisted this whole situation into something you could hardly recognize anymore.

Liam shifted uncomfortably, still processing everything that had been thrown at him. “But why? What’s the point of this? Why make her do this? You’ve had your fun with her already.”

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a smirk, the kind that hinted at a deeper game she was playing. “Because the prophecy is set in stone, Liam. It’s not just about me getting a laugh. The Fates have spoken. The curse will not be lifted unless she fulfills it.”

You felt a cold shiver run down your spine as the weight of her words sank in. Seven men. The thought made you sick to your stomach, yet something inside you told you it would happen one way or another. You weren’t sure if it was fate, magic, or something else entirely, but the idea of being **** into this situation gnawed at your very core.

“But how do you know it’s really her destiny?” Liam questioned, his voice tinged with concern. “What if she doesn’t want this? What if she doesn’t want to be—”

“Liam,” Aphrodite interrupted, her tone cutting through the air like a knife. “Destiny doesn’t ask permission. It just is. She’ll do it, and then it’ll be over.”

You gripped the edge of your bed, the realization dawning on you like a crushing wave. This was your fate now. There was no escaping it.

Aphrodite’s smirk widened, sensing the internal conflict raging inside you. “But don’t worry, I won’t make this easy. No repeat partners, no shortcuts.” Her voice took on an almost warning-like tone, sending a chill through you.

“Anyway,” she said, stretching her arms above her head, “I’ve said my piece. Enjoy this final trial. It's far less complicated than the other trials.” She gave you a knowing look, one that made your skin crawl with anticipation of the ordeal to come.

Aphrodite’s presence lingered in the room, a tension woven into the air as she paused before snapping her fingers. “Oh, and you might want to check your phone,” she mused, her voice dripping with amusement, as if she had already foreseen what was coming. Then, with a slow, deliberate snap of her fingers, she disappeared.

The silence stretched between you and Liam for a long moment, neither of you quite ready to break it. You released a slow breath, trying to process the weight of everything she had just dumped on you. Seven men. Not just sex, but real connection, whatever that meant. Aphrodite’s vague but absolute decree left no room for avoidance. It was a divine prophecy, not a mere whim. You couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t pretend it wasn’t real.

The ding of your phone broke through the quiet, sharp and intrusive. You hesitated before reaching for it, casting a quick glance at Liam, whose expression mirrored your own apprehension. There was no doubt in your mind—Aphrodite had orchestrated this. You unlocked the screen, and just as expected, a new message from Charlotte stared back at you.

Charlotte: _Babe, we’re throwing something huge tomorrow night. You have to come. And I'm n_ot asking.

You exhaled, gripping the phone a little tighter. It wasn’t an explicit invitation for anything beyond partying, but after everything Aphrodite had said, the implications were obvious.

Liam leaned in slightly, reading over your shoulder before dragging a hand down his face. “Of course,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She really didn’t waste any time, did she?”

You let out a humorless laugh, tossing the phone onto the bed. “When does she ever?”

Another silence stretched between you, heavier this time. Neither of you needed to say it aloud, but the reality of this trial—the final trial—was setting in fast. There was no clever way out. No bending the rules. Seven men. Seven real connections. And there was no telling what would happen if you failed.

Liam exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders as if trying to physically shake off the discomfort. “I hate this,” he admitted bluntly, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. “I hate everything about this.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Me too.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but when he looked at you again, his expression softened. “Are you… okay?”

The question lingered between you, heavier than you expected. You weren’t sure how to answer. Were you okay? No. Not really. But you had long since accepted that “okay” was a luxury you no longer had.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Liam ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “No, but… we don’t have to do this blind.”

You glanced at him, brow arching slightly. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back against the bed, arms crossed. “Hermes.”

You blinked, trying to piece together what he was suggesting. “Hermes?”

Liam nodded. “If this has to happen… then we can at least get something to make it easier.” His expression was tight, ****, but determined. “You said he gave you those Forget-Me-Mints, right? Maybe he has something else. Something that can make this whole thing…” He trailed off, searching for the right words before sighing. “Less awful.”

You frowned slightly, turning the idea over in your mind. It wasn’t the worst plan. If Hermes had enchanted mints that could erase the memory of sex, then surely he had something that could make it easier to go through with it.

“Do you really think that’ll help?” you asked, voice quieter now.

Liam hesitated, then nodded. “I don’t know. But it’s better than nothing.”

The thought of going to that party with the explicit goal of sleeping with someone made your stomach churn, but you couldn’t deny the logic. It was an opportunity. A chance to cross the first name off the list. And that was the part that unsettled you the most—how inevitable it all felt.

Liam reached out, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steadier now. “But, uh… let’s just not think about it until tomorrow?”

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Let’s not.”

But even as you tried to push it from your mind, the weight of what lay ahead pressed against you, suffocating in its certainty.

What happened if destiny wasn’t fulfilled? And was that something you were even willing to risk?