“Upon learning what Aphrodite had done to Psyche, I decided to confront her on my own, not to undermine my friends, but because of what I was on the verge of doing.” Eros breathed the words into my hair as I forced my sobs to still, straining to catch his voice. “At the time, my judgment was impaired, and my sole focus was on my mother’s demise. Having endured her torment during my childhood—her resentment toward me due to my ugliness, her use of dark magic to alter my appearance to a more pleasing one, and her isolation of me within the house to ensure nobody would lay eyes on the monstrosity she had birthed. I ultimately found happiness.” Eros inhaled deeply before he went on. “It was Psyche who made me worthy of the title of the God of Love. Aphrodite had stolen so much from me, and then she stole Psyche as well. The sole source of my happiness.”
I shifted in his arms, not wanting to leave the comfort of his embrace as I waited for him to continue. Eros’s fingers tightened in my hair.
“The Veiled Crown retains the power of manipulating any individual, including gods. I brought it with me, intending to use it on her.” Eros paused briefly. “A god’s death is not possible due to an individual’s act of violence, as you are aware. But . . . one can end their life by removing their heart, causing their essenceto be permanently erased, including from the Underworld. It is called sbennymi.”
“You were planning to make your mother kill herself,” I mumbled.
His chin brushed my head as he nodded. “Yes. I released the magical constraints when she held her heart between her fingers and departed.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like for you, going through all of that. I’m sorry she did that to you,” I whispered between the fading sobs.
A peculiar warmth flickered, like a ghost, behind my ear, then flowed down my arm and to my toes. Only then did I finally pull away, feeling the lingering warmth of his embrace, and glance at my hand. There, two red lines continued their path in a dance, stopping at the edge of my index finger’s nail.
I twisted my arm in the air, gaping at the sheer lines and noticed the same pattern on Eros’. This had to be the bonding mark, and it was . . . beautiful.
“Why red?”
“Depending on the existing feelings, the mark holds the color of the bond type. Black symbolizes hatred and red represents . . .”
“Love.”
He nodded. “The bond won’t force your feelings for me; it will magnify the ones you already have.”
The bond type didn’t come as a shock—no matter how much I didn’t want to admit it; I knew that I didn’t hate Eros.
“The first night will pose challenges,” he continued.
I couldn’t think of anything worse than having just revealed my shameful secrets to a stranger who now knew me better than anyone else. “Such as?”
Eros cleared his throat, standing up from the bed. “Have you ever found yourself in the position of wanting to kiss me?”
My throat tightened, taken aback by the question. A lump formed in my throat as my mind flashed back to the moment he told me my mother was safe. I nodded, deciding to be honest. “Once,” I admitted. “Not because of attraction or anything like that, but because I was grateful you told me that my mother was safe.”
“Are you certain attraction played no part in it?” I swore I saw a twinkle glinting in his eyes.
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Very well. Then you should have no difficulty lasting the night.”
“Eros.”
“Yes?” He smiled at me, showing his teeth.
“What challenges?”
“As I previously said, the bond will magnify your existing feelings, including attraction and lust. Imagine the bond as a living force in you, which thrives when you provide what it wants, and by extension, what you desire. It is difficult to resist, and it will test you during the first twenty-four hours, as it’s still new.”
I gulped, forcing the corners of my mouth to rise. “Won’t be a problem for me.”
I turned in the bed, but the persistent bond inside me felt like an invisible chain, urging me to move closer to him. I sighed, shifting around to face him instead. Perhaps that way, it’d let me sleep.
Eros had lent me one of his t-shirts; it was so large it brushed against my knees. It soothed the fresh sense of newness stirring within me. For a total of two seconds.
“Cease your stubbornness.” Eros’s voice filled the night and my eyes snapped open, finding his shape faster than it would’ve located a beam of light. His eyes remained shut as his arm tucked behind his head, the stretch of his muscles a teasing display of light. The dim moonlight filtered through the windows, painting shadows across his perfectly sculpted body. If I gave in, I could trace the mountains of his chest, the curve of his biceps and the sharp, imposing line of his jaw.
I wanted to lick it . . .No. I didn’t want to lick it. I wanted tosleep. The forbidden, inappropriate thought, though, refused to leave my mind. The way his abdomen gleamed, even in the darkness . . . the way his hair was tousled, urging me to run a hand through it…
“For the benefit of us both, come lay in my arms. It shall aid in settling you until you fall asleep.” He lifted his hand, making space for me, a silent invitation that it felt impossible to turn down.
