cupid's curse

05 | THE ADONIS INCARNATE

LUKAS RYE WAS NOT HANDSOME, he was bewitchingly beautiful in the most painful way. He had eyes that were unforgivably alluring, like they were so desperately trying to contain a brewing thunderstorm inside. And just as desperate as those mean, steely irises was the wretched Hedone slumping further down the velvet slipper chair she had previously thrown herself on after seeing a black and white photograph of her future conquest.

She buries her now-alarmingly red face in her hands and lets out a muffled cry of defeat, "Oh god, this is not good," She then looks to Angelos and a very pre-occupied Kharis who was stood beside him with the same photo clutched between her fingers, "This is a disaster waiting to happen!"

"He is a very gorgeous man." Kharis finally says after drinking in every tiny detail of the man in the picture, "I see why Aphrodite would think he's the Adonis incarnate."

Hedone and Angelos perk up at the Grace's utterance, they meet each other's eyes with the same bewilderment weighing down their god-like features. But Hedone was the first to ask the question, "The Adonis incarnate? What does that mean?"

"Did Aphrodite not tell you why she has you looking for that man?" But when her inquiry was met with nothing but expectant looks, she sighs, her shoulders sinking significantly lower as if what she was about to say has long been burdening her. "Adonis was a mortal much like Lukas. He was the son of a king and his daughter. They say that the daughter was in love her father, so much that she tricked him into having incestuous sex with her. Adonis was the fruit of very much forbidden relationship. He was beautiful, and Aphrodite adored him to no end. But of course he died too early, leaving the goddess drowning in her own wrath and sorrow. Aphrodite never lost hope though, she believed that once every three hundred years Adonis would be resurrected in another man's body. She vowed to find that man and keep him with her 'til ends time. And there's Lukas Rye, with every bit of Adonis from his face to his body, and Aphrodite wants him."

Nobody said anything for awhile after that, the air was thick from the disturbed sighs of the gods and nothing but the occasional thumps of books, straightening out of yellowing maps, and scraping of chairs resounded on every one of the extensive walls of the library. Hedone said nothing and felt nothing but a strange sense of pity for Lukas, a man she knew absolutely nothing about—except for the fact that he's a man of war, a soldier.

The goddess only sat there, staring blankly into a map so well-worn it was fraying at the edges; with European cities encircled in red ink, marking potential spots of which Lukas Rye could be gracing with his presence at this very moment. Her hands are itching for the photograph Kharis had previously held between her hands. It didn't help that it was sitting pretty on the study table she currently had her elbows rested upon, only a few inches away from her reach, she sucked in a breath before snatching the picture and instantly, it filled her entire gold-blooded being with regret. The first time she dared herself to look at his face had been bad, but the second time is even worse as the guilt nipped at her fingertips. Selfish is the last thing her father raised her to become, yet here she is a selfish as can be, taking away an oblivious mortal's freedom for her own.

Hedone studied his well-sculpted features, all of which were screaming god-like—except for his slightly bent but nevertheless perfect nose. The man's plump lips were set in a serious straight line. His eyes seemingly void of any emotion, leaving Hedone wondering what enchanting color they possess.

Hedone did not know what self-seeking part of her even dared to ask Angelos a question such as "Well, where is he now?" but she did, and it was one of the few times she felt like the goddess she was born to be, that underlying part of her which only cares for her own pleasure—and right now, that  long-sought pleasure is her freedom to love and be loved in return.

Angelos nods and points out the soldier's suit with one slender finger before answering, "He's wearing a French military uniform."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Hedone queries rhetorically, already on her boot-clad feet, "Let's get on the next flight to France." She declares, followed by a series of hurried movements but it was the demi-god's next words that halt her.

"Hedone, the uniform he's wearing was used during the second world war, it ended in 1945. That picture was taken over seventy years ago."

—ULTRA RARE AUTHOR'S NOTE
The picture above is not the photograph they are referring to in this chapter. Also, the next update will come very shortly after this one. Stay tuned, kids.