But the site was weirdly addictive.
One article led to another, then a comment thread, then a grainy video purporting to show a satyr getting kicked out of a nightclub by a sphinx bouncer. By the time Zara finally glanced at the clock on her screen, her stomach dropped.
Ten minutes until nine.
“Oh, come on,” she muttered.
Thankfully, the office was only a block away. She gulped down the last sip of latte, grabbed her bag, and slid off the stool. In her rush toward the exit, she nearly collided with a hulking, stone-skinned ogre who didn’t even blink, let alone move. She bounced off his arm like she’d walked into a warm granite pillar.
“Sorry!” Zara called, darting around him.
Outside, the day was annoyingly beautiful. Sunlight spilled across Alindale’s cobblestone streets, the sky was an unmarred blue, and a faint breeze carried the scents of flowers, fresh pastries, and something faintly magical she couldn’t quite place. The whole city looked like a postcard from “Wish You Were Here: Mythical Edition.”
She jogged toward her building, bag thumping lightly against her hip.
Just as she reached the door, someone called out:
“Zara!”
She turned and blinked.
Walking toward her, hand in hand, were Lord Eros and his mate, Psyche.
“Oh.” She straightened. “Lord Eros,” she said respectfully, then smiled at the gorgeous she-wolf beside him. “Hi, Psyche.”
Psyche’s bright eyes warmed. “Morning, Zara.”
Eros grinned, golden and effortlessly charming in a way only a god could manage. “Ready for your first day?”
“Yes,” Zara said, then added with complete honesty, “and I’m very surprised you’re here.”
“Psyche wanted to see Perseus,” Eros said, gesturing to his mate with fond indulgence. “And she’s never been to Vale Crossing.”
Psyche nodded. “It looks just like home so far. Has it been good for you? Settling in?”
“Yes,” Zara said, smiling a little. “It’s familiar enough.” Familiar in the way any place full of divine drama and monster bureaucracy could be.
Eros pulled open the glass door. “After you.”
Zara stepped through and followed the couple into the polished lobby, the sweeping staircase, and the buzzing heart of the building.
First day. New world. Ancient magic waking.
No pressure.
As they walked through the lobby, Zara felt it—like a soft pulse brushing against the edge of her mind.
Love.
Warm, bright, unmistakable.
Her empathic sense wasn’t always active; she’d learned to keep it dialed down unless she wanted to be overwhelmed by the emotional static of every being within range. But Eros and Psyche…well, they practically glowed.
It was impossible not to feel it.
They weren’t just affectionate or compatible. They were mated, bonded in a way that tied their souls together. Psyche had captured the heart of the god of love and desire himself, and somehow the world hadn’t tilted off its axis from the shock of it.
Zara watched them briefly as they walked ahead, Eros’s thumb brushing Psyche’s hand, Psyche leaning subtly into his side, the easy rhythm between them. Their emotions intertwined like golden threads: devotion, joy, desire, comfort.
