I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Licinia?” Caesar’s voice broke the quiet hum of the grand dining hall, his brows rising in curiosity and mild disappointment. “I had been impatiently awaiting your surprise,” he added, a note of confusion threading through his otherwise regal tone as he noticed her empty hands.

Licinia stepped forward, her stride hesitant, shoulders slightly hunched—as though weighed down by invisible chains. She had promised exquisite dishes, flavors meant to dazzle even the most seasoned palate, but now stood before them with nothing.

“I… I apologize,” she stammered, her voice soft, barely carrying over the distant clatter of dishes. “It’s not entirely ready. I didn’t want to serve you something… subpar. But I swear, I’ll make something even greater for you soon.”

The excuse sounded rehearsed, hollow, yet it was the safest path she could take.

She could have told them the truth—that the dish had been spilled, ruined. But that wasn’t the truth. And even if it were, she doubted she could speak clearly with her mind still swimming, her pulse still fluttering erratically in her chest.

Because of him.

Her eyes, despite herself, betrayed her. They drifted away from Caesar and Crassus and landed—inevitably, involuntarily—on the lone figure leaning against the marble wall of the dining hall.

Nathan.

He stood there with his arms crossed casually, a picture of calm indifference, watching the room with quiet detachment as Caesar and Crassus enjoyed their meal. Yet to her, his presence felt overwhelming—like a shadow stretching across her thoughts.

Her stare hardened.

He lied to me. That was the first coherent thought that flared in her mind.

He said the potion didn’t work… and he still made me take it! Her heart clenched, and heat prickled at the base of her neck.

And now? Now she was seeing things, feeling things she couldn’t explain. Her breath hitched just watching him from across the room. There was a strange tightness in her chest, a warmth that pooled deep in her belly, and a maddening awareness of how easily her eyes kept returning to him.

She glared at Nathan like he was the source of all her discomfort.

Nathan, sensing the intensity of her stare, tilted his head and met her gaze.

The instant his crimson eyes locked with hers, Licinia’s resolve crumbled. Her eyes darted away, and she cursed herself for the way her stomach flipped.

This is dangerous.

Far too dangerous.

What if… what if the potion really was that strong? That was the only explanation she could grasp. But the truth was far crueler.

Unknown to her, Nathan bore something far more potent than any mortal alchemy. He carried a passive Divine Charm—a blessing, or perhaps a curse, inherited from Aphrodite herself. Without effort, without intention, he exuded an allure that could bend hearts and stir desire even in the most disciplined souls.

And the aphrodisiac she’d consumed?

It had only amplified that divine charm, twisting it into something utterly overwhelming.

By the time Caesar and Crassus finished their meal and rose, Nathan pushed off from the wall to follow them. But before he could take a step, a slender hand gripped his wrist firmly.

Nathan paused and turned. Licinia stood there, her face a storm of fury and confusion.

Her grip trembled, but her eyes burned with emotion.

“What do you want?” Nathan asked, his tone flat, unreadable.

Licinia’s breath caught. “What do I want?!” she hissed, then raised her voice. “You gave me that damned love potion!”

“It doesn’t work,” he replied evenly.

“It does work!” she snapped back, her voice rising as tears welled in her eyes. “I’m feeling… I’m feeling all weirdnow!”

Nathan arched a brow. “Weird?” he asked, as if the word was foreign. “What do you mean by that?”

Licinia clenched her fists, eyes flickering between his face and the floor. “Do I have to draw it for you?!” she nearly shouted, but her voice cracked halfway through.

She still couldn’t meet his gaze. His eyes—those infernal, hypnotic eyes—were too intense, too penetrating.

She stole another glance at him, this time at close range.

And gods help her, he was handsome. Not just in the way that made hearts skip beats, but in that maddening, undeniable, universally magnetic way that made it hard to breathe.

Even beyond his face, there was something else—a weight to him. A presence that drew her in like a moth to flame. Just having him nearby made her feel strangely comforted, as if nothing could harm her when he was there.

No, no, no! her mind screamed. She shook her head sharply, as if trying to cast away the thoughts before they took root.

This was all wrong.

These weren’t her feelings.

They couldn’t be.

Nathan’s eyes rested on Licinia, her breath coming in shallow bursts, her expression a storm of indignation and confusion. The flush on her cheeks, the slight tremble in her voice—there was no mistaking it.

“So… it actually worked,” Nathan thought to himself, blinking in mild surprise.

The love potion had taken hold. Yet oddly, he’d felt nothing himself. No haze, no warmth, no unnatural emotion pulling him toward her. That absence sparked a passing thought.

Was it because of Aphrodite?

Perhaps her divine protection shielded him from such effects. After all, bearing a blessing from the goddess of love might naturally grant resistance—or immunity—to any lesser charm.

Still, he shook off the thought. It didn’t matter now.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Nathan asked dryly, his voice flat, as if her outburst was nothing more than a passing nuisance.

Licinia’s eyes blazed as her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re the one at fault!” she snapped. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

Nathan tilted his head with a lazy smirk. “Pay how?” he asked, voice edged with curiosity, as if amused by the empty threat.

She hesitated for a moment, but pride pushed her words out.

“I… I’ll tell my father you used a love potion on me!” she cried. “He won’t let you live!”

Nathan’s gaze darkened slightly.

Now that was a threat with teeth.

Crassus wasn’t just any noble—he was one of the most powerful men in Rome, an emperor. Nathan, by contrast, was little more than a soldier in Caesar’s retinue. If Licinia took her accusation to heart and brought it to her father, it wouldn’t matter that Nathan had only acted in retaliation. The consequences would spiral quickly—and dangerously.

His smirk faded.

He stepped forward.

Licinia’s eyes widened at the sudden movement, and she instinctively took a step back.

“W..hat? Don’t come any closer!” she cried, trying to raise her voice into something commanding, but it cracked halfway through.

Nathan said nothing, continuing toward her with slow, deliberate strides.

Licinia kept backing away, her steps unsteady, her heart pounding like a drum. Just being near him made her feel strange again—her body felt hot, her skin tingled, her thoughts blurred.

“I… I’ll scream! I’ll call the soldiers!” she shouted in one final attempt at reclaiming control.

Nathan’s crimson eyes met hers, unwavering.

“Then do it,” he said quietly.

Her mouth opened, her voice rising.

“SOLDIER—!”

But before the word could fully leave her lips, Nathan surged forward and pressed his hand gently—but firmly—over her mouth.

“Mmph!”

Her eyes flew open wide in shock as her back struck the cold marble wall behind her. The touch of the stone did little to cool the heat blooming through her body.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

Then, slowly, Nathan pulled his hand away from her mouth.

“You talk too much,” he muttered, brushing a finger lightly across her lips—soft, full, trembling.

She flinched.

“D…Don’t…” Licinia whispered, her voice barely audible, rising on tiptoe as if trying to pull away even when there was nowhere left to run.

Nathan leaned in closer, his voice now a low whisper that stirred the air between them.

“Should I silence these lips, then? You tell me.”

His face hovered inches from hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. Her thoughts were unraveling. His presence—his scent, his voice—clouded her mind.

Then, without warning, Nathan tilted his head and ran his tongue slowly along her cheek in a single, teasing motion.

Licinia gasped audibly, her entire body jolting at the sensation.

Her knees trembled beneath her. She could hardly stand.

Her eyes fluttered open, tears forming in their corners—not from pain, but from sheer overwhelming confusion.

Her glare, once fierce, had dulled into something fragile and uncertain.

“Wh-What’s happening to me…” she whispered, her voice choked and vulnerable.

That touch—it should have disgusted her, angered her. But it hadn’t.

Instead, it had sent shivers down her spine. And worse, it had felt good.

Too good.

Was this what love felt like?

She had never experienced anything like this with Caesar. Not even close. And yet here she was—losing herself over a man she’d only just truly met.

How was this possible?

“Well… I didn’t expect this.”

A new voice cut through the air like a blade.

Nathan’s body stiffened. Slowly, he turned his head.

Standing at the edge of the corridor, arms crossed, expression unreadable, was none other than Crassus.