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“And Cupid,” I add, “and karma.”
He grasps my chin abruptly but gently, then pulls my attention to him instead of my shaking hands. “Dee, with the way you look now, people will call the cops, thinking I drugged you and am forcing you to take me to your room.”
“You are sort of doing that.” I gave him a pointed look.
His face shifts slightly, as if he’s pained by my assessment. “Not to hurt or assault you.”
“How do I know what you want from me?” I ask. “Maybe you gave me a psychotropic drug, and I just think this is all happening when you are some sexual predator from town. Or if you are a god, maybe you like throwing mortal women off cliffs, rescuing them, then forcing yourself on them. I remember my Greek and Roman mythologies. You guys were a bunch of assholes and not much into consent.”
Cupid releases my chin and sighs. “Yeah. My relatives are assholes, but I’ve never forced myself on anyone. I might have convinced many mortals to give into their desires, but I’m not like Zeus and some others, attacking and then cursing mortals for their own transgressions.”
I think back on the myths I know and don’t recall any assaults by Cupid or Eros. “I can’t believe this deity thing is all true.”
“Well, notallthe myths are true. Some are mixed up and exaggerated.” Cupid glances at my hands, which are settling with our conversation. “Here’s an example. My name is actually Eros, but the Romans changed it. Then, more than the others in the pantheon, the Roman name kind of stuck.”
“Which do you prefer?” I ask.
His eyes light up when I ask. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“That’s silly,” I say. “I know what it’s like to be called a name that doesn’t feel right.”
“I prefer Eros, and in my personal dealings, I often use that, but as a public figure, I go by Cupid.”
“Why didn’t you introduce yourself as Eros when you held me over the cliff?” I ask.
“I didn’t know if you would know my original name.”
“Well, I would have.” I look over at the hotel entrance. “Do I look less rattled now?”
In answer, Eros pats me on the knee, jumps out of my car, and opens my door for me.
3
HEARTBOW HOTEL
Eros helps me out of the car and holds my hand as we walk through the lobby and to the elevator. I expect him to let go of my hand when we are alone in the corridor, but he holds on until we enter my suite.
Then I remember what I was doing at Lovers’ Bluff before almost dying. “My camera gear! I left it on the bluff.”
“You were a bit out of it for a while there, so I grabbed it,” Eros says as he idly checks out my room. “It’s in the back of your car.”
“Oh, uh, thanks for doing that.” I sit down on the edge of the king-sized bed. “Um… so what happens to me now? What about the photo shoot I have tomorrow? Will I have to cancel?”
“You can do it, but I’m coming along.” Eros sits down next to me and pats me on the knee. “As your assistant.”
Why is his hand on me? To offer comfort?
I arch an eyebrow. “How much do you know about my life?”
“I know enough,” he answers cryptically, then he points to the room as a distraction. “This place is way too much.”
As I look around at the heart-shaped decor and bright red and pink accents, I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, theroomis the thing that’s far too much about today.”
“Don’t lie and say it’s your dream suite.” He smirks and nudges me playfully with an elbow.
He’s acting as if we are old pals. This makes no sense, but what the hell? When with a Roman god… so I play along.
I nudge him right back. “Don’t lie and tell me you don’t own theHeartbowHotel. Cupid murals in the lobby? Come on, this is your idea of a lavish place.”
