Cult Of Dionysus Novels & Stories

"No. You take your three sugar pods, which I already find hellish, as a quantity in a coffee shop. I don't want to be responsible if you get diabetes." Dio mio! A woman standing up to Santo?! Ah. To hell with my Machiavellian plan to make him die of diabetes thanks to my cooking. Santo has the angel Didi to look after him. Santo angrily grabs the three bags and pours them into his cappuccino. "You are not responsible for me, woman!" Am I dreaming, or is that the shadow of a smile I see forming on his lips? Didi dramatically rolls her eyes and turns around to answer the phone again.

"Hi." Zoey almost caught her breath in astonishment. Dionysus in a white shirt is also considered a deadly sin for her eyes. Her husband always looked so heavenly good in corporate suits, but he can also absolutely rock any kind of shirt and casual clothes. Heck, Dionysus could wear a mere pauper's attire and still look like the enthralling Greek God of ecstasy that he actually is. "Hi." Zoey breathily responded, suddenly remembering Dionysus' heartfelt confessions to her hours ago. "Should we go now? I want to show you around the town. There's so many wonderful things to see here in the countryside."

She had a fixed eye contact with Dionysus before looking at John and the rest. In his drunken nature, he laughed once more, moved to sip his booze and asked Helen. "And who may you be?" Helen's expression changed as from the markings of her face, it was seen that she was frightened by the question asked to her by Dionysus. Without bothering to wait for Helen's reply, he spoke again. "I am not here to harm anyone, all I need is Pandora, the gods are simply awaiting your presence, your punishment is indeed great." Dionysus laughed once more.

I nod, and then we both lean forward, reading. The Monastic Cult of the God of Darkness is a minor but powerful cult developed in the eighteenth century. They were formulated in direct opposition to the Cult of the Goddess, which professed a mission of peace between all living things. What is known of their stated mission – passed from brother to brother, never written down – emphasizes hierarchy, war, and discord between peoples in order to honor their lord, the God of Darkness, who they understand as best worshiped by sowing disharmony as well as blood sacrifice. From the eighteenth to the nineteenth centuries the Cult developed significant magical prowess and their abilities to manipulate

Sabrina muttered alone. “That’s good if you know.” “You’re lying.” But Cole didn’t even consider the option. He didn’t buy that third-rate excuse at all. “I am not. Rescuing poor whores from serfdom and granting them new lives? No, Dionysus was a God of Entertainment. He was perfect. Too perfect. I found myself enjoying someone having sex with another. That’s where Dionysus slips in. I am a voyeur. I enjoy watching, not engaging.”

He's been like a friend to me, even my friends call him dad and I've never wanted anyone else to. He's built like he was carved from marble- narrow waist, wide chest,broad shoulders, tall, arms that could lift me in a blink of an eye. His golden hair to his shoulders, light blue eyes that seem to pierce through me. A perfect definition of a Greek God. I've wanted those chiseled arms around me for a very long time now. “Hi, dad. Didn't see you there.” I uttered, picking up my robe but not putting it on.

As if to rub it in, Dionysus gave her such a disapproving look that made the bubbling guilt row heavier, “That was cold, even for you, by the way.” Proserpina tried to keep her face blank, “You don’t know what you speak of,” He sneered, “…you sure about that, kid?” …Not really. She should have just burned that place down. The murderous thought must have reflected so clearly on her face because Dionysus scoffs, leaning away, “Oh come on, a little romp in the sheets never hurt anybody. I don’t get why you all are making such a big fuss over it, kid. Live a little,”

This place felt like a different world, far removed from our home, as well as servants and luxurious staff. We continued until we reached a massive steel door, its surface marked with the symbol of the Draconis Cor. The symbol of the Cult was a dragon eating its own tail, known as the Ouroboros. The symbol glinted faintly in the low light, a stark reminder of the Cult’s reach and influence. I glanced at Luis, giving him a reassuring nod before turning to the door. I raised my hand and knocked five times, each sound echoing ominously through the empty halls.