Chapter Text
My cup was never empty. It brimmed with a deep purple liquid, foaming slightly at the rim—tasting of the richest wine ever poured, sweet as stolen fruit and smooth as sin. I reclined on my makeshift throne, a decadent pile of silk and pillows, and surveyed the revelry before me.
They danced. They drank. They laughed—laughter bubbling like my wine, spilling into the air alongside music that trembled from lyres and flutes. Fingers wandered, lips met, bodies tangled. Nothing forced, nothing withheld. Just pleasure, freely given, freely taken. As it should be.
I took a slow sip, letting the wine warm my throat and curl in my belly like a purring beast. My little cult was growing beautifully.
My violet eyes caught a girl at the corner of my vision—drunk off her ass, poor little thing. She was pretty, swaying where she sat like a petal caught in wine, eyes heavy but still burning with fight. Some man—stupid, persistent—was trying to drag her to her feet. She waved him off with a sloppy swing of her arm, a clear fuck off in body language if there ever was one.
That should’ve been the end of it.
Let the girl sleep. Let the night hold her gently. This place was supposed to be safe.
But the man didn’t take the hint. His hand wrapped around her arm again, tighter this time.
My smile vanished. I stood, the air around me humming with the first thrum of magic. Drunken or not, she was mine to protect.
Most of the others were already five drinks in—could barely stand, let alone intervene. So it fell to me.
As I moved, my followers pressed close, mistaking my rising for a promise of pleasure. I had to chuckle as I slid through their grasping hands—one woman trying to pull me into a kiss, a bold man trailing his fingers down my spine. Tempting, all of it. I did love the attention.
But not now.
My eyes never left the girl as she sagged in the man’s grip, about to be carried off like spoiled meat. I descended the steps quickly, the silks of my throne rippling in my wake.
I tapped the man’s shoulder, wearing my broadest smile—the kind that showed all my teeth and none of my warmth.
“You know the rules,” I said, voice velvet-sharp. “Freely given, freely taken. And I believe this lady already told you to fuck off.”
The air shifted, soured. It was never good to anger a god—especially not when the wine was still flowing and the music had only just begun. I sighed, bitterly. Just when the party was getting started.
“Lord Dionysus, I was simply—”
I rolled my eyes, not in the mood for lies or excuses. I reached out and untangled the girl from his grip with little effort, the man practically recoiling from my touch.
“Leaving,” I cut in, tone final. “Please do. You’re not welcome back.”
He stammered something that might’ve been agreement, but I wasn’t listening. My attention had shifted fully to the girl now limp in my arms. Her face was flushed, but not with joy. Her eyes—those lovely eyes—hadn’t even had a chance to turn violet from pleasure. Poor thing. She swayed slightly, even as I held her steady.
“Yes, Lord Dionysus,” the man said, bowing his head before scurrying off like the coward he was.
Good. I had no need for men like him here. Not in my sanctuary.
“Now, what to do with you,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. I gave it a gentle pat, trying to coax her back to me. “Come on, little one. You don’t want to sleep through the best part.”
She stirred slightly, lashes fluttering as her eyes—half-lidded and hazy—found mine.
Cute. She was incredibly cute.
Definitely a new face—probably her first time here. If it had been any other night, I would’ve already been wrapped around her like ivy on marble. But I’d done the right thing. Pulled her away before someone else got their hands on her. And now?
Now she was mine to protect.
“Purple like wine…” she murmured, voice soft and muddled as I carried her up the steps to my private retreat. She was rambling, barely aware, a little doll in my arms. The space welcomed us with lush pillows, silk blankets, and a haze of soft magic that dulled the sounds of music and laughter beyond the draped curtain. A sanctuary within a sanctuary. And best of all—we were alone.
I settled her gently beside me. A little rest, I figured, and she’d be fine.
From beside my throne, I reached for a bowl of my special fruit—glistening grapes, dark as dusk. Just one bite could send a mortal into fits of ecstasy or sickness. Depends on the soul. I once made a barrel of wine from a single grape. Powerful things, sacred and deadly.
The girl reached out, her fingers brushing the rim of the bowl. I chuckled.
“Afraid not, pretty little thing,” I said, gently pushing her hand away. “One of these might just kill you.”
She ignored me entirely, half-tumbling into my lap with a dazed grin. “Dos’taste good~ So sweet~” she slurred, her voice sticky with drunken delight.
I blinked. She knew the taste.
My hum deepened, unease slipping beneath the amusement. I kept a few of those bowls around the palace, mostly as decoration. Everyone knew better than to touch them. No one had dared—until now.
I caught her chin between my fingers, guiding her face up to mine. “How many did you eat, my drunken thing?” I asked sweetly, my lips so close they brushed her breath. Then I kissed her forehead—light and divine.
She giggled, awkward and soft, and held up three fingers.
Three.
Three sacred grapes.
Oh dear. She might be as good as dead. And that would certainly ruin the vibe.
A laugh escaped me—sharp and loud—as I pressed my palm to my forehead. Gods. She really ate three.
Well, she wasn’t dead yet. Just blissfully drunk off her ass.
I suppose the party was over for me. Seemed I’d be watching over this one all night.
With a sigh that turned into a chuckle, I let a finger trail down her bare shoulder. “How do you feel, little mortal? Can’t imagine it’s too pleasant, eating my grapes.”
She blinked slowly, face slack with wine and magic. “You’re nottt s’posed to touch me,” she slurred, barely getting the sentence out.
I tilted her chin with my fingertip, grinning down at her. “Oh yeah? Or what?”
She wobbled, clearly trying to summon her mortal dignity. “Or I’ll fiiight you.”
I laughed again—louder this time. She was a riot . Most mortals entertained me with their bodies, not their mouths. But this one? She tickled something deep in me—something ancient and amused.
She seemed offended by my laughter. I was just about to call for someone to fetch her water when—
She bit me.
Shock froze me in place.
She pulled back, looking far too smug for someone with wine-stained lips and half-closed eyes. “I said I’d bite you,” she mumbled, proud as anything, her teeth having just been on my neck.
I didn’t know what emotion she stirred in me—delight? amusement? something else entirely—before her body gave out and she slumped forward, dead weight against my chest.
She nuzzled into me, of all things. Into the god she just bit . Her small hands fisted the fabric of my robes like a child clinging to something safe.
“Fight or bite?” I muttered to no one in particular, the words falling soft into the magic-thick air.
She was fast asleep.
I looked down at the mortal curled against me and couldn’t help the slow smile that tugged at my lips.
Gods, she was fucking adorable .
It seemed unfair, didn’t it?
She got a taste of me —a bite no less—and I didn’t get a single taste of her in return.
But there would be other nights. Other parties. More wine. More mischief. More of her .
That thought pleased me.
With a sigh, I pulled a blanket over her limp form. She looked like a dream swaddled in silk and half-spilled moonlight. My little mortal, my drunken princess.
I lay beside her, close but not touching. Not yet.
Gods, I hoped she survived the night.
She was far too entertaining to lose.
+++++++
My head was
killing
me.
I didn’t even question the goblet of water pressed to my lips—I drank like I’d been stranded in a desert. One gulp, then another. Finally, something in me settled. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to piece together... anything.
The party. Right. I remembered fruit—grapes? They were sweet, ridiculously so. I’d popped one in my mouth, then another. And another. After that?
Nothing. A haze. My name, even, felt far away.
"You finally woke up," a lazy voice drawled.
That was when I realized I wasn’t alone. And worse—I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t in anyone’s bed I knew. This wasn’t even a room so much as a den of blankets and silk-draped decadence. A sanctuary of excess.
Lord Dionysus.
Oh gods.
He was lying beside me, head propped on his arm, smiling like a predator who wasn’t quite hungry yet—but would be. A wide grin tugged at his lips, teasing and dangerous.
“Lord—Lord Dionysus—” I stammered, unsure if I was supposed to kneel or bow or just beg for my life.
He chuckled and brushed a thumb across my cheek. “You may call me Dionysus, pretty thing. After all… you’ve already had a taste of me.”
“I what?! ” I gasped, absolutely horrified.
He laughed again—like he was enjoying this. “You bit me before you passed out,” he said, lounging now with his legs crossed, perfectly at ease.
“I’m so sorry! ” I squeaked, hands flying to my mouth. I bit a god. A god . I was going to die. Be turned into a grapevine. Or a goblet. Or worse.
“It was amusing,” he mused. “You’re amusing. I like you.”
He tilted his head and hummed softly. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Y/n,” I managed.
“Y/n,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. Then he took my face in both hands and smiled like the sun had personally blessed him. “A sweet name,” he said. “For a very cute girl.”
Violet eyes— gods, those violet eyes. They looked like they could make anyone drunk without a single drop of wine. His skin was a golden tan, kissed by the Sun God himself, glowing with warmth and temptation.
He wore a robe—well, barely . Deep purple and threaded with gold, it clung loosely to his frame, revealing more than it hid. His chest was bare, toned, and so casually exposed it felt almost indecent. His sandals curled up his legs like living vines, and over his shoulders, the luxurious fur of a leopard hung like a king’s mantle.
Golden chains decorated his neck and glimmered in his violet-streaked hair. He was handsome—no, beautiful —and both at once. It was the kind of beauty that didn’t make sense, the kind that made your mouth go dry. That was him . That was Dionysus.
And I had bitten him.
In my drunken stupor, I had bitten a god .
Dionysus reclined on the cushions like he belonged to the space—and the space belonged to him. His body stretched out in perfect laziness, his chest shamelessly on display, one hand cradling a goblet of wine. He drank slowly, eyes half-lidded, smiling at me like I was the next course.
"You must be hungry," he said, voice rich and teasing.
“Um, I’m fine—” I started, panic bubbling up.
But he smiled wider, reaching out for a bowl of fruit. Without another word, he held it out to me. “Eat,” he said, and the command slid through the air like velvet.
But he smiled wider, reaching out for a bowl of fruit. Without another word, he held it out to me. “Eat,” he said, and the command slid through the air like velvet. As he held out the apple, I brushed my hair behind my ear, fingers trembling, and leaned forward to take a bite from his hand.
The first crunch filled my mouth—sharp, sweet, intoxicating. It tasted like summer and sin. And all I could think about was how I was chewing under the unblinking, amused gaze of a god I had most definitely offended.
Dionysus grinned, slow and teasing, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. His violet eyes gleamed with something playful—and far more dangerous. "Pretty even when you eat," he murmured, voice rich like aged wine.
I almost choked.
His fingers reached up without hesitation, brushing a crumb from the corner of my mouth. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he let his thumb trail across my bottom lip, slow and indulgent. My breath caught in my throat. My entire body was on fire—and not from the fruit.
“You blush so easily,” he said, clearly delighted by the sight. His hand slid to my jaw, tilting my face toward him like I was something precious. Or maybe just his next amusement.
“I—I’m not,” I stammered, even as my cheeks burned hotter. He was too close. Too beautiful. Too godly. I had no chance.
He leaned in, his breath brushing against my cheek. “Oh, little liar,” he whispered. “You bite gods, blush like a maiden, and still think I won’t notice how lovely you are?”
My heart nearly gave out. All I could do was stare at him—glowing in the dim light, robe slipping further down his shoulder, golden chains clinking softly as he moved.
He looked like temptation incarnate. And I was trapped.
“Go,” I said quickly, trying to stand. Except it came out like a command—like I was ordering a god to leave his own sanctuary.
Dionysus blinked at me, amused.
“I—I meant, I should go,” I corrected, waving my hands in frantic apology. “It’s… late. And I should definitely go.”
He chuckled lazily, lounging deeper into the pillows like he had all the time in the world. “You're right,” he said, stretching with a yawn. “It is quite late. First thing in the morning—what a scandal.”
My face burned.
Dionysus glanced at me, violet eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m having another party tonight,” he said offhandedly. “You should come. I’ll make sure to hide anything sweet little mortals like you shouldn’t be nibbling on.”
I opened my mouth to politely decline, but he didn’t give me the chance.
“You shall join me,” he declared with a pleased grin, “as my date. Wonderful. I shall see you then.”
My brain short-circuited. Date?!
“I—I, um…” I fumbled, helpless. “Yes. I shall see you tonight, Lord—”
“Dionysus,” he corrected smoothly, tilting his head, lips curled in a knowing smirk.
“Dionysus,” I repeated, barely above a whisper.
“Good girl,” he said, with far too much delight in how red I went.