Chapter 24 #2
My breath, ragged and uneven, paused as I took in the movement. I clenched my thighs, straining and failing to ignore the throbbing sensation.
With the last remains of my blood on his tongue, Eros closed his eyelids. When they opened again, any signs of lust were gone. Like a plunge into icy water, I blinked, swimming to the surface—no doubt, we both were experiencing the aftereffects of the bond.
Before I could stop myself, words tumbled out, as if my mouth had a mind of its own.
“I’m tired.” My shoulders, bearing the weight of my looming confession, slumped in defeat.
Eros watched me in silence, offering me a few moments to collect myself before continuing.
Tears swelled in my eyes, a blurry blanket lifting over them. “I’m tired of living for my mother.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and accusing. What I uttered was blasphemy, a betrayal from my deeply hidden thoughts—thoughts I myself was oblivious to. My chest stung, as if someone had drilled a hole through it, punishing me for the awful nature of my mind.
Eros frowned, and immediately I was reminded that I was in the company of another person—that I spoke that horrible, cursed phrase in his presence.
My gaze flew to the wooden floor, as if burned, seeking solace where his judgmental expression wouldn’t haunt me.
Scorching blood rushed to my cheeks as I lifted a trembling hand and brushed a finger over my bottom lip to confirm that it was indeed my mouth that released such words into the air.
Among the deepest secrets a person might possess, why was mine a source of so much shame? How could I have been so selfish? The realization clawed at me. If I was tired, how was she, my mother, fighting the terrors living inside her head without pause?
Bile rose in my throat, and my palm pushed against my stomach, as if that would stop the vomit from gushing out of my mouth.
The confession didn’t stop there, the effects of the bond drawing out.
“I’m tired of living only for her. I love my mother more than anything in the world, and I don’t regret the way I spent my life if it meant she wasn’t alone, not after everything she gave up having me.
Yet sometimes I look back and realize every day is the same—I wake up, feed her, count her words, go for my run, feed her again, then go to sleep, and hope my father will quit tormenting me for just one night. ”
Tears, raw and unforgiving, rolled down to my chin. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “As much as I’m ashamed to admit, the first time I’ve ever felt alive, truly alive, has been here in Elythra.”
His hand, large enough to envelop my whole shoulder, gripped my skin in comfort. Sniffling, I stole a glance at him and barely managed to keep my composure when I looked at his face.
The small furrow between Eros’s eyebrows deepened, eyes warming with a quiet ache. He didn’t attempt to comfort me, to assure me I wasn’t wicked for thinking that way, but he didn’t need to. His expression said it all.
“I would die for my mother, but am I ever going to actually live my life for her?” My lips quivered, and my self-control fell apart, a collapsing brick wall that fractured into a million pieces.
I wept and surrendered when Eros pulled me into his arms, my head finding solace on his chest. My fingers curled on the shirt, grasping it until my fingertips turned red as Eros’s palm caressed my hair in slow, comforting movements.
He took the strands that stuck to my wet face and tucked them behind my ear, exposing the river of tears that flowed and wet his clothes.
“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 essence to 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 to sleep. 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.
The idea was so appealing that I nearly vaulted from my spot into his arms. I clenched my jaw, ignoring the pressure that spread from my chest through my entire body.
“I’m good,” I grumbled, but as my eyes traced the lines of his naked skin, I let out a soft huff. “Just for a moment,” I warned, dragging myself to him. My limbs felt oddly light as I moved; the scent of him and the heat radiating from his body luring me like a siren’s call.
The second my head found shelter in the spot between his neck and shoulder, I let out a warm sigh of relief in his nape, throwing my arm over his waist and hoisting my legs over his. Instant satisfaction.
Jesus. I was desperate.
His fingers tangled in my hair, and he placed his other hand on top of mine. I closed my eyes, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull me to sleep.
“You are not a horrible person.” His voice was a whisper in the air. I stilled, my fingers clenching over the skin of his abdomen. “Although you may have perceived yourself in that manner, it is not true. You are allowed to be tired, Charisma. That doesn’t imply you love your mother any less.”
My chin pressed into his skin as I glanced at the side of his face. Eros moved his head to look me in the eye. He had broken his habit of calling me “mortal” and, for the first time, ad spoken my name.
“Thank you,” I murmured, throat closing as I pressed a kiss on his cheek. He stilled, his palm curling on the back of my head in an instant.
The next time I met his gaze, his eyes were heavy-lidded with a burning desire. “I must ask you not to do that. My level of resistance is not as strong as yours.”
I gulped, nodding. He sighed, as if relieved when I placed my head back on his shoulder.
“Is this how it’s going to be between us? Until we reverse the bond?” I bit my lip, running a nail over his chest.
“How?”
“Wanting each other,” I clarified.
Even before he talked, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Am I to understand that you do desire me?”
What made me so bold at that moment was a mystery. “What if I do? Is that a bad thing?”
“No. Quite the opposite.” Eros drew a hand over my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind his touch.
The weight of the upcoming trial—of what I had to do and how important my actions were to the plan’s success—disappeared from my mind.
I realized then that in different circumstances where no threat loomed over my head, I would’ve liked Eros.
With or without the bond. He was a man I could have potentially fallen in love with someday.
“You should rest. Tomorrow promises to present some difficulties.”
“I know. I just . . . don’t want to sleep.”
“Are you frightened?”
“Frightened, no. Worried? Yes,” I admitted. “If everything goes south—”
“South?”
I smiled, shaking my head. “It means if things take a wrong turn.”
“In that case, it is unlikely. Based on my observations during the trials, you possess the ability to achieve this.” Eros’s hand danced in my hair, picking up a strand and curling it on his finger.
“My ability isn’t the reason I’m worried. It’s Zeus’s that troubles me. Promise me that if things go wrong, you’ll take care of my mother. I know it’s much to ask, but—”
“Things won’t go south,” he pressed, so sure of it. If our circumstances hadn’t been so dire, I would’ve laughed hearing him say that phrase.
I looked at him. “If they do, promise me you’ll take care of her.”
“Things won’t—”
“Promise me,” I pushed, catching his chin between my fingers.
He took a deep breath, nodding. “I give you my word.”
We settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt like a welcomed sensation rather than a strange absence of words. The room faded away, leaving behind only the subtle rhythm of our breaths and the steady beats of our hearts.
“Know that I am glad that it was you,” he said as my eyelids grew heavy, easing toward sleep. “If vows are destined to break, I’m glad mine broke for you.”