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The next morning, I wake up curled against Eros’s back. My hands are pressed against his shoulder blades, and my forehead rests near his neck. My fingers feel the softness of his concealed feathered wings, and somehow, I sense their magic.
Realizing I’m touching him inappropriately, I recoil from the intimate contact. Why was I drawn to him like a magnet during the night? I suppose my subconscious wants a connection with someone.
My abrupt movement to get away must alert Eros, because he turns to look at me as I retreat to the far side of the bed again.
“What’s wrong?” he asks sleepily.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
He rolls over and props his head up on his hand, staring at me.
His golden eyes seem to flash with an inner light, and I feel the heat from his likely naked body. It’s more than a bit disconcerting to have him inspect me while still in bed.
“What?” I ask with irritation.
“You intrigue me,” he says.
“Why?” My voice softens. “I’m just a normal, average person.”
“Not really.” He shakes his head, but he doesn’t explain how I’m not.
“How could I possibly be different?” I prompt with a vexed tone.
“You are faithful to the love in your heart.” Eros frowns. “Most people talk a big game, but they buckle when tempted.”
“Love in my heart?” I echo. I don’t like that he has such an advantage over me. He’s a powerful god, and I am… not. “What do you know about that?”
“Not much other than the emotion. I can feel your love for someone.” Eros crinkles his brow. “Will you tell me about it?”
How does henotknow about Carl and me? But maybe he doesn’t, or he’s making me confess my horribly pathetic love life to make me squirm.
“I’d rather not right now.” I jump out of bed and take refuge in the bathroom. I lock the door—not that it will do much good to keep out a god.
I stare at the woman looking back in the mirror. My gray eyes are clouded with confusion. WhyamI faithful to my love for Carl? I have to come to terms with the fact that he will never love me back, not in the way I love him.
Am I pathetic? Am I a lost cause? Why have I pined for a man all these years who will never give me what I need? Do I really need to be loved?
I do, but then why haven’t I moved on so I can find someone to love me?
Thankfully, my suitcase is still in the bathroom and Eros hasn’t gotten rid of what I plan on wearing today. I set out my clothes—dark jeans and a professional yet comfortable blouse—and strip down to take a shower.
I have the strange sensation that someone is watching me, but it doesn’t feel like Eros’s presence. Besides, I hear him moving around in the main room. I shiver and hop into the shower stall to shake the feeling of being watched.
The feeling doesn’t subside when I come out of the stall and dry myself off. It’s unnerving, but it must be my imagination. There are no windows, so if I am being spied upon, they have to be invisible or some sort of spirit.
Or maybe another god.
I dry off quickly and dress. After brushing my teeth and my long hair, I twirl my tresses into a bun to keep my locks out of my face and the camera. When I enter the main room of my suite, I find Eros dressed and ready to go.
“Don’t you need to shower?” I ask.
“Not unless I getreallydirty or I feel like getting wet.” He winks. “One of the perks of being a god—snap of the fingers, and I’m clean.”
“Hmm.” I shrug and check my camera bag for my gear. “My appointment is in half an hour.”
“Don’t you need to eat?” Eros frowns. “Or coffee? I believe mortals worship coffee now.”
I shake my head in amusement. Is he trying to take care of me or just be annoying? Both?
