The sun was high in the sky, and I was on my knees in my garden, tending to my roses. I had lived alone on this island for as long as I could remember, and I had grown accustomed to the solitude. But today, my peace was interrupted by a loud crash that echoed through the air.
I stood up, brushing the dirt off my knees, and followed the sound to the shore. There, lying unconscious on the sand, was a man. A very large, very muscular man, with tan skin and dark brown hair. My first thought was that he was some sort of pirate, but as I got closer, I realized that there was something different about him. Something otherworldly.
With a sigh, I dragged his limp form onto the shore and began to assess his injuries. He was battered and bruised, with a broken wing that hung at an unnatural angle. I rolled my eyes at the thought of another egotistical man, let alone a god, thinking he could conquer the seas and end up on my island.
As I tended to his wounds, he began to stir. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain and fell back down. I gently pushed his head back down and continued to clean his wounds. "Save your breath, hotshot," I said. "You're not going anywhere for a while."
He looked up at me, his hazel eyes filled with confusion. He tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse and weak. "Where am I?" he croaked.
"You're on my island," I replied, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "And I don't know how you got here, but I suggest you rest and heal before you try to leave."
Over the next few days, I nursed him back to health. Despite his initial arrogance, I found myself drawn to his charm and wit. He was nothing like the other gods I had encountered, who were self-absorbed and careless. Hephaestus, as I learned his name to be, was humble and kind, with a quick tongue that kept me on my toes.
One night, I was tossing and turning in my sleep from a nightmare. Hephaestus, unable to sleep himself, wrapped his arms around me and I instantly stilled. I murmured, "You're not so bad, for a god," and he smiled, pulling me closer.
As the night went on, the tension between us grew. I, always in control, took the lead and Hephaestus followed willingly. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. He trailed kisses down my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
The next morning, I woke up alone in my bed. I found Hephaestus on the beach, working on repairing his broken wing. I couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the mighty god, humbled and working with his hands.
Over the next week, we grew closer. We spent our days exploring the island and our nights lost in each other. I had never felt this kind of connection with anyone before, and I knew that I couldn't keep him on the island forever. But I also knew that I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving.
As his wing healed, the day of his departure approached. I suggested one last adventure, and he grinned, agreeing. I knew that leaving him would be one of the hardest things I had ever had to do. But for now, I would enjoy every moment with him.
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