Changing the Future

Chapter 82

I paced in front of the palace until I was sure that I'd flattened the cloud underfoot from a cumulus to a stratus. The wind whipped about me, sending loose strands of hair into my face, catching on the corner of my lips. Looks like I made the right decision in wearing jeans today.

My heart hammered in my chest.

I could count on one hand the number of times I'd visited this palace – always at Aphrodite's insistence. Though he and I were on neutral terms – maybe borderline good if I was being generous – I did my best to avoid his presence as much as possible. He enjoyed teasing me about my love life as much as his mother did, and I honestly don't know how I'll be able to handle him today if he so much as breathes a word about Luke.

It's not like I was here for him today, anyway.

I needed to talk to my friend, who just so happened to be his wife.

Steeling my nerves, I raised my hand to knock on the ornate door, only for it to give way right as my knuckles were about to make contact. Standing at the entryway was Zephyros, wearing a giddy expression on his face. His chiton and curly black hair were impeccable, as expected of an attendant of Eros.

In fact, he seemed perturbed by my appearance and shuffled me into the nearest changing room, chucking more traditional attire, a bottle of Aphrodite strength styling hair gel, and a hairbrush at me before slamming the door shut. Apparently, a dressy blouse with a butterfly pattern and jeans weren't appropriate for being in Eros' palace.

After my little wardrobe change, Zephyros finally found me worthy of conversation.

"Business or pleasure, mademoiselle?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Really, Zephyros? Isn't that a little too on the nose?"

"You wouldn't be here otherwise. So, the prodigy of Olympus in the flesh," he said, his voice saccharine in a way that set me on edge. His eyes roamed over me a little too much for my liking. At least he had enough self-preservation to keep his hands to himself. I would've burned them off had he tried anything. "I've heard you're something of a hot shot among the gods. Is that true?"

"I've been trained by the Olympian council, yes," I said, unsure of what he wanted to hear. "I definitely wouldn't call myself a hot shot."

"But you hold more power than some of the gods combined, hmm? I think the term is fitting."

"If you say so."

"Say, the boss tells me you're favored by Apollo-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," I interrupted. "I am not a pawn you can use to get back at Apollo for what happened thousands of years ago. Apollo and I are friends, Zephyros."

"Liar."

I fought the urge to put my fist through the nearest column.

"Eros, I will personally pluck you like a chicken if you decide to play your games with me today. I am not in the mood."

"Touchy, touchy."

The love god appeared in front of me with a gentle woosh. Like his mother, Eros' form allegedly changed to become more and more attractive to the person looking at him. However, his appearance never changed for me in the same way that Aphrodite has always looked like Salina to me.

He wore a perfectly tailored cream colored suit with a light blue tie, accenting his tanned skin. A gold watch gleamed on his left wrist. His wings were pure white, currently folded against his back to prevent them from whacking Zephyros into the nearest column. His face reminded me of a statue, carefully crafted and chiseled to an unachievable beauty standard. His long, black hair reached down to his shoulders, perfectly combed despite the random breezes blowing through the palace. What truly unnerved me about Eros, however, were his eyes. They were ruby red irises that gazed at people with the intensity of a thousand suns should you be the object of his attention.