She cocked a brow at him, letting her gaze fall on his legs and pressing her lips together as she fought the urge to laugh at him. Again. “Why would you be wearing those? Didn’t you say that less clothing improves sleep quality?”
“I have, and I appreciate the reminder,” he replied, offering her a smile that was neither sincere nor kind, but laced with an amused irony. “In such circumstances, when sharing a bed with a mortal who is unwilling and uncomfortable with a naked god, it is crucial to prioritize their needs and enhance their comfort. I shall be honest with you—these are not that bad, most notably?—”
“Hold on,” she chimed in, narrowing her eyes at him. “Are you telling me you’ve slept with a mortal? It’s impossible unless you’ve slept with one of the errors,” she added, cutting him off. Recognizing the seriousness of the situation, she glided to him, eyes wide.
“That is correct,” he answered, a smirk forming on his face.
“Was it the girl with blue hair? I must admit, she doesn’t strike me as your type,” Artemis said as she noticed something changing in Eros’s expression. “It was Charisma, wasn’t it? I knew you had a thing for redheads.”
“That is indeed correct, it was her. However, refrain from entertaining sinful thoughts. This was not the case. Rather, it was yet another of Zeus’s games. I am willing to cooperate for now while I gather additional information, although I am uncertain of the reason for his specific focus on this mortal,” he explained, threading his fingers through the golden strandsof his hair. “But following our overnight interaction, a specific instance prompted me to fall on my thoughts.”
Her eyes twinkled with a mix of delight and disbelief, a sincere smile tugging at the corner of her lips, even though she pressed them into a straight line just enough to keep her excitement in control. “Okay. What happened?”
Eros, with a slight lean, reached across his desk and retrieved the paper which had been persistently sitting there. Shadow became a little more curious, so he moved closer, and then he realized that it was a list of objects, or perhaps a series of settings.
“Upon awakening in the night, she was in a trance-like state, visibly confused and perspiring. I attempted to dissuade her, and she indicated that she had been envisioning this since her arrival. She mentioned she had not been a dreamer before coming here, and she began writing down all these things when she woke up,” he explained as he handed the paper to the goddess.
Charisma Sinclair had confided in the God of Love regarding the dreams—or nightmares—that kept her awake.
They might advance more quickly than I have foreseen.
Artemis’s expression turned stern as she examined the paper. Her lips briefly opened, and her eyes turned toward Eros, with a momentary sparkle in them.
Are you perhaps privy to any information concerning Charisma’s nightmares?
“Did she tell you more about this dream?” Her question came as she let her eyes fall back on Charisma’s words.
“She persisted in her description of a sunlit room that was surrounded by glass walls,” he said, his eyes narrowing with each word he spoke as he vividly remembered what the mortal had told him.
Remaining silent for a few more moments, Artemis eventually broke the silence as she spoke and placed the paper back on the desk. “You, more than anyone, should understand that humans experience vivid dreams in Elythra. It shouldn’t worry you.”
The God faintly nodded with a movement of his head, not rising his eyes to his best friend. He kept looking at the same spot as he continued to process the thoughts that were emerging from the depths of his mind.
“Why is it that you’re so concerned? It was just a dream.”
“On another note, what is the reason of your presence? You wouldn’t wake up so early if it was not something of great importance to discuss.”
She stood from the chair, a playful and challenging pout on her face as she looked up at him and then walked toward the clock hung on the wall. “Yes, that’s true, and I’ll tell you as soon as you admit that you finally found someone who made you want to open your heart again.”
Eros’s jaw ticked. “There is no such thing to admit. I made a vow.”
“Oh, hush.” She made a gesture with her hand and came to sit down next to him. Artemis’s palm rested on his knee. “You don’t have to punish yourself, Eros. You are allowed to love.”
“Cease this conversation and proceed with telling me about the reason for your visit. I am not interested in love. Please, do not insist on this matter.”
Artemis cleared her throat. “Athena has reached out to the Deathbounds, and she now has that cursed book in her possession,” she said, her face tightening and eyes narrowing with a sharp, assessing disapproval.
Fascinating.
Their plan has ultimately entered the implementation phase.
“Is she well?” he asked as he took out a pair of linen pants and slid them on.
As she inched to him, she sighed and pursed her lips in contemplation. “She mentioned that she was currently dealing with the worst migraines of her life after trying to decipher that book, even though she says she feels capable of dealing with them.”
With a small scoff, Eros began buttoning his shirt and then he proceeded to run his fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands that were causing an itch on his forehead. “There is always a price to be paid for summoning such beings.”
Artemis nodded. “She said she doesn’t want my help and that she’ll keep us posted about her progress.”
