Page 59 of Desired By Eros

No!“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good.” Her breath was warm as she moved her mouth close to his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want your girlfriend to get mad.”

His stomach twisted into a knot, but he ignored it. Turning around, he faced her and put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Eros?”

The blood in his veins turned arctic at the sound of the familiar tone. “Psyche.” He wanted to push Marge away, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. “What are you doing here?

“I was waiting for you to take me to dinner. When you didn’t come, I checked social media, and I saw you in the background of Amber’s livestream. What’s going on here?”

Marge shuffled backward. “Hey, Psyche,” she greeted nonchalantly. “Glad you found our little place.”

Despite all the time he’d spent with Psyche, her face remained hard to read. Had she been any other woman, by now, she would have thrown a fit or, worse, launched herself at them in a burst of fury. But, no, she just stood there, nose wrinkling as she assessed the situation.

“We should talk, Eros,” she said after a long bout of silence.

“Alright. I’ll see you later, Marge.”

His heart drummed in his chest as he followed Psyche outside into the cool night. She kept going, not stopping until the blaring music could no longer be heard. “What was that?”

“A bar?”

“I know what a bar is.” She rubbed at her arms. “I mean, you and Marge.”

“What about us?”

She flinched. “Could you please give me the courtesy of being straightforward? Surely, you owe me that much.”

His throat turned scratchy and dry as his chest tightened. “She was just showing me how the pinball machine worked and?—”

“Do you want to sleep with her?”

He chuckled. “Do I want to sleep with her?”

She huffed. “Alright, if you don’t want to answer that, then just answer this: what are we, Eros? What am I to you? Just a warm body to sleep with while you wait for the gods to forgive you and give you back your immortality?”

Blood roared in his ears. What was he supposed to say to that? “You’re…you’re…” He cleared his throat. “You’re a friend, Psyche.”

“And what else? Because friends don’t have sex and share intimate details and meet each other’s family. What am I to you?”

“Psyche, it’s not that, I—” He cursed to himself. Why was he fighting her? She was correct, after all. He still craved that immortality, wanted it still, and couldn’t let go of the thought. Besides, in a few decades, she’d be dust and dead, and he would go on living through the rest of eternity.

Without her.

“It’s fine.” A cold mask slipped onto her face. “I understand, really. You never promised me anything, and it was my mistake to think this was more than it was.” She took two deep breaths. “Please tell the Alpha that while I appreciate his help, I would like to be left alone now. Your assistance is no longer needed.”

“Psych—”

She turned on her heel and trudged off, and he could only watch her as she disappeared down the trail and into the night.

It was better this way.She was not part of the plan. Allowing himself to get entangled with her only distracted him. No, he needed to get back to Olympus, to the life he was meant to have.

Grumbling to himself, he headed back to the tent.I need a drink.The party had turned raucous in his short absence, the music louder, and someone was doing a headstand on top of a keg of beer. He strode over to the bar where, once again, someone gave him a drink—a shot this time, which he downed in one gulp. He slammed the shot glass onto the bar.

Fuck.

The dull ache in his chest grew into a deep, stabbing pain. As he closed his eyes, all he could see was Psyche, beautiful Psyche, standing there as he did nothing to assure her that she meant more to him than anything—even his immortality—in the entire world.

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