Eros

Chapter 12: Cursed

It was at this point that Eros realized his blunder. Had he just unwittingly revealed his secret? The passion that built like Mount Vesuvius sputtered and coughed. His hands dropped down and he backed away, taking in the bright question that hung in the air between them.

"Angie, I have done nothing. It was a mistake," he said, shaking his head. "I need to go now."

"No, Eros, wait! I'm sorry—you brought it up, I just asked."

Eros stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her. Angie crashed against him with a yelp, but his hands gripped her shoulders before she could topple to the cobbles. He released her so fast that she lost her balance, but she managed to catch herself. He saw the hurt in her eyes. It was like a firebrand to his soul. She lowered her gaze and bit her quivering lip.

He closed his eyes and swallowed back his pain. "Do not ever ask again." He whirled around and marched toward the fountain. He stared unseeingly at the stream of water pouring from the sculpture and shoved his fists into his pockets. The rock was heavier around his neck than ever before. In fact, it burned the skin at his chest.

He snaked his hand under his shirt and lifted it to his eyes. It was dark and clouded. A true semblance of his life. He scowled and dropped it. The sooner he found a woman who would truly spite him, the better. He snorted. Would that ever happen? He did not see it then, when Aphrodite exiled him. He was much too angry to reason with her compulsion. No. Now he saw her for what she truly was—a vicious and menacing goddess who cared nothing for her son.

She found pleasure in his suffering.

Her task was an impossible one. No one ever reviled the god of love. The god of sensuality The god of lust. No one. Always did they seek his favor in all things, even when he vexed them with his arrows tipped in lead. Even then. He closed his eyes and listened to Angie's presence behind him. He knew her feelings for him. He did not need his gift for that.

"What is that?" Angie asked, her eyes on his chest.

"What—no!" Eros saw her intention too late. Her hand reached toward him, her fingertips grazing the surface of the stone.

A sharp crack split inside Eros' chest and he cried out and collapsed to the ground. Pain, tight and sharp, exploded like Zeus' thunderbolts inside his body. He pulled his limbs to his center and shivered. Liquid heat flowed from his eyes and he wailed. He heard her words, distant and soft, but he did not understand. A sharp siren song in his head constricted his thoughts. Just as fast as it came, the cramping stopped.

"Eros!" Angie's laughter wafted. "Eros, c'mon, stop it." Silence. He felt her warm presence shifting closer until she crouched beside him. "Are you okay?"

The haze cleared as the cricket song slowly fused with his breathing. Cold slithered over his body and he shivered. He nodded, able to hear words now. "What, what happened?" He groped the ground, his fingers closing over a stray river stone the size of his thumb.

"I don't know, I was going to ask you the same thing! Why are you shaking? Are, are you cold?"

"I-I suppose I am. I have never, never b-been cold b-before."

"Yeah right." She laughed.

Eros looked at her through his locks of hair without turning his head. Her eyes wondered over the length of his body that warmed him. He shivered. He did not know whether that was from the cold or from pleasure. So many strange sensations bombarded him ever since this accursed stone.

"Look, I'm sorry I hurt you. I don't know how I did. All I did was touch your pendant."

"It is—," he frowned before speaking again, his hands tightening. "It is sacred. It is not to be touched by mortal hands." A smile slipped across his face and he closed his lashes.