I waited for the pain to cease, my jaw clenched as my hand dropped limp beside my body. By the time the throbbing in my head began to subside, my cheeks were already drenched with tears. My soles pressed into the ground when I rose.
“What now?” I asked, taking a moment to survey my surroundings and wipe my cheeks clean.
As much as I wanted to give my full attention to the meticulously maintained gardens, bursting with vibrantly colored flowers; crimson roses, sunny yellow daffodils, and regal purple irises, and the inviting pools adorned with breathtakingly beautiful statues, my eyes moved instinctively to the tall, imposing house that stood in front of me.
The air hung still and heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine as I approached the edifice. Tall, gleaming columns flanked its entrance, their surfaces reflecting the ethereal glow of the moon. The lunar light cast long shadows on the wide, white stone steps leading up to a front door painted a deep red. I imagined the interior was as breathtaking as the exterior.
“This is the God of Love’s house,” 226688 said with an enamored smile, then shook his head as if recovering from a dream. “I’ll be waiting for you in the morning to veyrith you back to your chamber.”
With that, he disappeared into thin air.
My limbs trembled as I ascended the stairs, each step carefully measured, and I sucked in a deep breath of the stale air. I could do this. Assuming my suspicions were correct, I needed to ensure Zeus wouldn’t know his plan failed, and to prevent that from happening, I had to walk inside this house. There was no going back.
A metal plaque, cold to the touch, caught my eye just as I readied my fist to knock.
My skin prickled with unease. Gross.
I was aware how being a God of Love required certain skills and hobbies, but was it truly necessary to advertise them on the door? What perplexed me was that he asked strangers or neighbors to set up a privacy bubble—meant presumably forwhat the name of it implied—rather than initiating it himself. Did he take delight in the idea that his partner’s sounds of enjoyment were reverberating for everyone to hear?
A warm shiver, like a spark, ran down my spine and ignited a strange fire in the pit of my stomach. Ignoring the unsettling sensation, I finally brought my knuckles to the door.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Three times. My arm fell to my side, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. The knock was scarcely perceptible. Perhaps deep down, I hoped he wouldn’t hear the faint noise.
A sigh rolled past my tongue. There was no backing out. I had to persuade him to open the door and hope he’d let me stay the night.
I put some effort into my second attempt, slamming my fists into the wood loud enough that it was impossible for him not to hear, no matter his location inside the house.
With a click of my tongue, I drew my hand back and waited. I swayed, feeling the tension in my back as I leaned, and the fabric of my clothes stretched tight as I shifted my weight from my heels to the front.
Was he not home? My mouth twitched upward. I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of returning to my chamber—not in the slightest—but how could I go back and admit defeat?
Perhaps he had a someone over. Unease clawed at my throat at the thought. That would be extremely uncomfortable to witness.
I shuddered, preparing to knock again in an effort to disperse the view from my mind, but the door opened before I could.
He had tousled and wild blond hair, with strands escaping in all directions, as if he had been aggressively tugging at it. He furrowed his brows as his eyes drifted over me, a silent assessment hanging in the air—and it was then as he studied me that I noticed the lack of a shirt on his body.
I gulped, my throat dry and his biceps, which were almost the size of my head, flexed. His chest was damp with sweat, the skin glistening as if he had tossed and turned in a restless search for sleep.
What could keep him, a god, awake at night?
“Are you well?”
The God of Love placed a naked foot over the threshold of the door, his head turning from side to side, searching for a companion. He soon realized I had come alone.
“Yes.” The next question lingered on my tongue, bitterness clogging inside my mouth. I was not keen on entering without invitation, but the night air was becoming cold. “May I come in?”
He glanced behind him, then back at me before offering a curt nod and moving to the side, creating an opening for me to pass.
“How may I be of assistance?” he asked, closing the door behind us as I took the first two steps inside.
I wanted to take in the house, but I felt I’d already been impolite by inviting myself inside so I couldn’t just gawk without first answering his question. I pivoted to face him, but the words got caught in my throat. A part of me wanted to confront him about my suspicions, but the other didn’t want him to know I was aware of his plot with Zeus.
“With your presence,” I finally replied, almost grimacing at the sound of my voice. Jesus. I couldn’t be more obvious if I tried. My eyelid twitched.
How did people flirt with such ease? I scoffed in my mind. Probably because they flirted at their own discretion.
The God of Love lifted a brow. “Well”—he pointed at himself—“matter resolved. Or perhaps you were intending to discuss something with me?”
