Eros

Chapter 6: The Stone

Eros lay in bed that night in his new room, his mind crammed with many thoughts. Zeus was nowhere to be found, and he was not anxious for his meeting. Time here meant nothing to him. As for his bunking. The size of this place insulted his fine sensibilities. It was the same size as the bath house in Angie's palace. After settling his wardrobe into the furniture that pretended to be wood, he had learned the mechanics of the thing called a shower. After wondering about the maze-like building, Eros had decided to retire.

Alone in the dark of his cell-like chamber, his emotions mutated into anger—an emotion he was not familiar with. Irritation often visited him before his banishment, but never anger. His mother had sent him off and away from the only home he had only known for how long? Over thirty-seven centuries?

He turned to his side, still unable to get used to the fact that his wings had faded to nothing more than wind.

His entire life as the god of love, he had never come across a single woman who would, or even could for that matter, spite him. How he wished he brought his lead-tipped arrows. The ones that broke happy relationships. The ones that created anger. The ones that brought confusion, jealousy, hatred.

Eros smirked.

Since he possessed the same capability over mortals' hearts without the gold arrows, perhaps he would not need lead ones?

He laughed. It was clear and smooth and beautiful—very much like his mother's. He would be returning much sooner to Mount Olympus than Aphrodite had anticipated.

Morning came bright and golden after much loss of sleep. A feathery stream of warmth crossed his face. The air felt different. The room felt different. He felt different.

Eros cried out, swinging forward, his legs colliding into something. No wait, someone. He opened his eyes and assumed the dark-skinned man lying on the floor was his room companion. Rather, roommate. "What are you doing lying on the floor?"

Eros leaped from his bed, lending Zeus a hand. Nothing. Eros' smile slid off his face as he stared at his hand. He felt . . . nothing. No feelings. No thoughts. No emotions!

It tingled when he flexed it. Either Zeus was a fake mortal, or something had happened to his omniscient gifts. Heat whipped across Eros' face like a sharp slap. Aphrodite . . .

"Sorry, I just wanted to see who my new roomie was—welcome!" Zeus' hand shot out in front of him, his thumb straight into the air.

Eros stared at it, his head still ringing with fury and mounted betrayal.

"I don't bite," Zeus said, his voice dry.

"No, it is not that, I—" Eros swallowed hard. "Nothing." He pressed his lips together with a blast of air from his nose.

"Well, gotta run—classes start in . . ." Zeus consulted a small disc at his wrist, "twenty minutes—long walk." His grin tilted across his face as he shuffled backward to the door. "Nice rock, by the way." He pointed to Eros' chest with his index finger, thumb still in the air as he did a clicking sound with his tongue.

The door slammed behind Zeus.

Eros followed where Zeus' gaze led, and saw the rock. Rather, a stone. Cold and heavy, resting on his chest. He lifted it to his eyes and studied its many facets. It shimmered with a life of its own. Why would his mother endow him with such a trinket? What was her purpose?

He snorted and wrapped his fist around the chain and pulled. A snap sounded, but instead of the chain coming loose, a sharp jolt pierced the base of his neck.