“You never have to let me go.” He presses a kiss to my neck and leverages himself up so he can look down at me. Eros gives me a crooked smile. “Look at us. Beauty and her Beast. Happily ever after and everything. Maybe fairy tales do exist.”
“You’re much prettier than the Beast ever was.”
He gives a rough laugh. “And yet much more of a beast than he could ever be.”
“I don’t care. Beast, monster, man, it doesn’t matter to me. You’re mine, Eros Ambrosia.” I tilt my head up and brush a kiss over his lips. “And I’m yours.”
Epilogue
Eros
“Are you ready?”
“Almost.” I finish buttoning up my shirt and check my appearance in the reflection. I look fine. Better than fine. This is a new suit, one of Juliette’s designs, and the fit is so damn superior, I see why she charges what she does. The deep purple should be ridiculous, but it looks great. One wouldn’t know by looking at me that my stomach is a mess of nerves.
Psyche leans against the doorway. She’s as picture-ready as always, wearing a bright floral top with a deep-pink skirt that bells out to stop just below her knees. “Stop stalling or we’re going to be late.”
“We could always skip it.” I stalk toward her. “I could strip you out of that cute skirt thing and lose track of time.”
“Eros.” She smiles, though her hazel eyes are serious. “You have nothing to be nervous about. It’s just dinner at my mother’s.”
“It’s Sunday dinner at your mother’s, with your entire family.” It’s also the first one we’ve managed to make in the month since Aphrodite was exiled. As Zeus feared, my mother created more than enough trouble on her way out. She named Eris as her heir, which sent the entire upper city into wave after wave of whispers. I hadn’t even realized Eris was working beneath Aphrodite, though apparently she’d been doing it for years. Her appointment means two of the Thirteen are from the Kasios family, which has everyone speculating on how that will affect the power balance going forward.
Eris, of course, hasn’t seen fit to reassure anyone. I suspect she’s thriving off the chaos.
Demeter has been busy putting out political fires and circling the new Aphrodite warily, trying to figure out where they stand. And now Ares is sick, and it’s not looking like he’ll recover…
Yeah, shit has been fucked up in Olympus.
Ironic that it’s been the happiest month of my life.
As I follow Psyche out of our room and into the kitchen to grab the wine I bought to bring to dinner, evidence of that happiness is everywhere I look. The key bowl Psyche bought at the winter market in the lower city with its jaunty color scheme of pink, yellow, and teal. The matching personalized glasses—a tumbler for her and a wineglass for me—on the drying rack, the stylized script etched into it reading Hers and His. She has entirely too much fun taking photographs of us drinking from those for her social media.
The dining room table always has fresh flowers on it, and they always seem to match whatever Psyche is wearing when she buys them. Even though I tease her about being vain, I love it. It feels like she leaves a little piece of her in the penthouse when she’s out.
Every room has little things added. Extra pillows in our bedroom. A knit throw blanket in the living room, along with a stack of books that, judging from their broken spines, she’s reread many times.
I stop in front of my favorite addition. Psyche rolls her eyes, but she’s fully grinning now. “Every time!”
“We look good. It’s a shame not to appreciate it.” On the wall in the foyer, there’s a larger-than-life print of the photo from our wedding. It’s my personal favorite of the bunch, one of our first kiss as a married couple. Hermes did us a solid and ducked out of the way, though I didn’t realize it at the time.
“You are such a sap.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “Come on, Husband. We don’t want to be late.”
I loop my arm around her waist as we head down the elevator to the parking garage. It’s so fucking easy being with Psyche, listening to her detail her plans to champion a new designer Juliette recommended who specializes in plus-sized clothing, that I forget to be nervous until we’re parking outside her mother’s building.
My chest gets tight as I stare at the front door. “What are the odds she decides to poison me?”
Psyche raises her brows. “We can pretend that you’re actually worried about that if you like.” She reaches across the center console and takes my hand. “Or we can talk about the real issue.”
“Don’t tell me Demeter isn’t capable of poisoning someone.”