I’m going to propose to Max.

Make this whole thing official.

Real.

Because it became real some time ago. I don’t know when. Or maybe I’ve always had these feelings for Max, and it took a fake relationship for me to realize it. I’ve always been a headstrong asshole when it comes to love. Doling it out for mortals day in and day out. It makes one a cynic.

But after a million lifetimes, there has never been one woman who has come close to Max. I should know—I’ve been there for all of it.

There’s no one like her.

It’s been a month since she and I first slept together. A month where I’ve proven to her time and time again that my feelings for her are true.

I should have done this a long time ago. Fear is an ugly beast like that, though. I can pretend that everything is fine until the truth comes out.

No.

Surely, she’ll understand why I couldn’t tell her. And she must understand what I’m planning to do beyond this.

Because I’ve decided that I’m going to stay here with her and live and die as a mortal. Beyond that, I can either do my duties from the Underworld, or someone else can do it, such as Aphrodite. I’m tired of being the god of love—because I can’t do my job well without her.

It may be time to pass the mantle.

Suddenly, I don’t care anymore, other than wanting to share a mortal’s life with Max.

She has a meeting with Gotham’s teacher this morning, so I’m flying solo. I stop at Tiffany’s to trade out the ring for something more Max—a simple band with an emerald stone that matches her eyes.

Unconventional for an engagement ring. But nothing about Max is conventional, so it’s perfect.

Then I head to the office so I can plan out the perfect dinner to pop the question to her. We haven’t done anything high-profile since the Met Gala, and I think it’s time that we do something different. Something perfect.

And then, maybe, I can tell her that I’m Eros.

“Oh, Mr. Eros!” Carrie cries, getting to her feet as I enter the agency.

I glance down at my watch. It’s a few minutes before eight in the morning, which means that Carrie, being a terrible barista, is at least punctual.

“What?” I ask, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. I don’t want to be interrupted when I’m feeling light on my feet at the thought of what I’ll plan for Max and me. I don’t want her getting in the way.

Carrie averts her eyes, looking down, which makes me stop and frown at her. Something is making her nervous.

“Sorry,” I say with a sigh. “I’m just really busy today.”

She nods. “You have a visitor in your office.”

I frown. “I don’t have any appointments until ten.”

Carrie hesitates. “It’s—”

Before she can finish her sentence, I open the door to my office and see Nadya sitting at my desk, a serene expression on her face as she smiles at me. Like she’s the one who owns the office, and I’m the intruder.

She clasps her hands on my desk and raises an eyebrow. “Hello, lover.”

“You,” I snarl.

“Mr. Eros, I told her to—” Carrie starts, but I whirl on her.

“You let her in?”

Carrie takes a step back. “I…”

Worst secretary ever.

I know that Max doesn’t want to fire her, but this is unforgivable. I glare at Carrie.

How long has Nadya been alone in my office? I have confidential files stacked away in my desk. Files about clients of mine who do not want people knowing that they had used a matchmaking service. Clients who had strange requests that I was able to help them with.

But all that had been given to me in confidence.

Plus, I can’t help but feel like Nadya’s been prowling around my office, determined to find other ways to sink me. I glance around as if expecting to find a photographer hiding in the shadows, attempting to make it look like there’s some sort of sordid affair happening between Nadya and me.

I’d rather spend the rest of eternity chained to a gorgon than have anything to do with her. And the thought infuriates me, as I clench my jaw, steeling myself for whatever she has planned.

There’s something glittering in her eyes that I don’t like. She smirks.

“Relax, Damien,” she croons. “I’m not planning on doing anything to hurt you. Carrie, can you be a dear and close the door?”

Now she’s ordering my secretary around. Even though I made the decision to fire Carrie just a moment ago, the fact that Nadya thinks she can do that only heightens my sense of anger.

But she locks her gaze on me. “Calm down, Eros.”

I freeze.

No “Mr.,” and with such emphasis on my name, it only means one thing.

Nadya knows who I really am.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Who are you?”

I dimly hear the door shut behind me, leaving Nadya and me alone in my office. My heart is thudding in my chest as I look at Nadya, noting how the sunlight catches her hair. She watches me with familiarity, but I’m at a loss. I have no idea who this woman is, other than the one-night-stand I woke up next to.

Who the fuck is she?

She’s waiting for me to start. And I have no idea where to even begin.

So I opt for the obvious. “My secretary knows better than to let you in here without me being present.”

Nadya cocks her head to the side. “Don’t blame her, Eros. I asked her nicely.”

“You keep calling me Eros.”

A low smile comes to her lips. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

Play dumb. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. “My name is Damien Eros, and I’m—”

She sighs so loudly that it cuts me off. “Cut the bullshit, Eros. I know who you really are. But…” She gives a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “You have no idea who I am, do you? Even though you’re used to ruining people’s lives. Well, for once, I’m the one who has you at a loss.”

A chill ricochets down my back as I stare at her. She rises from my chair, slowly, deliberately, without taking her eyes off me. As I watch her, her face changes, unnoticeable at first, but then she looks like Zara the leggy blond I went to dinner with all those weeks ago. I clench my fists, because I know that I’m not dealing with a normal mortal. If she’s a mortal at all.

Then she morphs to look like another woman from my past. Then another and another. The changes are happening so fast now, there’s barely a second of her features settling on one particular face before it transforms to another.

But I recognize each and every one of them.

And then she finally stops, and I’m staring at a face that I know very well, even though I haven’t seen her in millennia.

“Psyche,” I breathe.

And there she is. Fair-skinned, brilliant platinum hair that frames her like she’s her own goddess, and captivating blue eyes. Psyche was the most beautiful woman of her time, and that hasn’t faded in all the years since.

With Psyche’s face, Nadya smiles. And I now see that Nadya and Zara have been Psyche this entire time. Along with many, many of the women I’ve slept with in the past. Like she’s been haunting me through my mistakes since I’ve been living as a mortal and beyond that.

Psyche was my first ever mistake. The first and last time I’ve had my heart broken, because I haven’t been able to love anyone since. Until Max.

“Finally, you know who I am, husband,” she sneers. “Took you long enough.”

“What are you doing here? How are you here?”

She brushes off some imaginary fuzz from her sleeve. “One of the benefits of being married to you, the gods have granted me a long life. Among other things as you can see. And I have come back for my husband.”

I mask my shock with bravado. It’s the only thing I know to do when everything I know is fake. “We’ve spent infinitely longer apart than we were together,” I tell her. “I think that qualifies us as no longer being together.”

Not to mention that divorce wasn’t a thing when she and I separated. But I don’t bring that up.

“We weren’t compatible, Psyche,” I say. “We were young and stupid. And we weren’t right for each other.”

Psyche and I were once together because there is such a thing as love at first sight.

And there’s such a thing as a huge fucking mistake.

We had met when I was meant to make her fall in love with something hideous. I had accidentally struck myself with my own arrow, causing me to fall in love with her. We courted in secret when I was hiding from the eyes of the gods and kept my identity secret.

And then, I fell out of love. Whether or not it’s because my own magic wore off or because she actually was crazy—as evidenced by all this—I can’t say. We argued at first. And then she went back to her home to live as a mortal. I continued with my own life.

I had no idea what happened to her, but it had gotten so tense toward the end, I thought she wanted nothing more to do with me. Until now.

Something ugly crosses her face as she rounds the desk to come toward me. “You left me alone!”

“You were the one who left me,” I tell her quietly, standing my ground.

“You were supposed to come looking for me!” she cries. “You’re the god of love, and you couldn’t even make your own love life work!”

“Because we weren’t right for each other.”

“Because you’re the officious prick who wouldn’t fight for me!”

I look at her, aghast. “You were the one who wanted me to fight, when I had no need to. We were all right. We were doing just fine. And you wanted to create drama.”

She seizes me by my sports coat, holding me by the lapels so she can glare up at me. “Because love got boring. I couldn’t stand you after a while, Eros. You were always gone. And it got so boring!”

Hearing her words after all these years shouldn’t hurt me, but it does. Because there’s this fear that I’m still the same way and that no one could ever love me for that long.

But I steel myself and shake my head. “We weren’t in love, Psyche. We fell out of it a long time ago.”

She shoves me back, and I stumble to stay upright. “You ruined my life.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Truly, I am. This Psyche in front of me is the product of thousands of years of scorn and anger, warping her into something I couldn’t recognize. Psyche used to be a kind, gentle woman, far prettier than any of her peers.

But this isn’t my Psyche. Not anymore.

She stills and closes her eyes at my apology. “Not good enough,” she whispers. “Which is why I’m ruining your life.”

I blink before letting out a short laugh. “You’re what?”

She watches me keenly, waiting.

I put a hand over my mouth, feeling like I need to puke. “Elena… The lawsuit… Are you behind all that?”

She smiles, and it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just a little prod. I did nothing to Elena’s marriage—you fucked that up all on your own. I just gave her a bit of fodder.”

I shake my head, trying as hard as I can to contain the swell of rage at everything she’s done to ruin me.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I whisper.

She shrugs. “An eye for an eye.”

“You could have just talked to me,” I say, stammering. “We could have talked about it and—”

“And what, Eros?” She stalks up close to me, looking up into my eyes. A smell hits me that is so familiar, I feel my throat tighten at the memory. She smells of roses and springtime. The years haven’t diminished that either. “We would have kissed and made up? Gotten back together? Or would I still be where I’ve always been? Alone?”

I swallow. “We could have done anything differently. Anything that doesn’t destroy other’s lives.”

“You’re accusing me of that?” Her eyes go half-lidded as she regards me. “What are a few lives in the grand scheme of everything you’ve done over the years?”

And she kisses me on the lips. My eyes fly wide open in surprise. I don’t push her away. Don’t yell at her. Don’t do anything.

Because there’s a part of me that misses her. It’s long buried, along with many bad memories with her. That part misses Psyche because it wants a simpler time. But this is wrong. So damn wrong.

She pulls away and breathes in my ear, “I’m still doing it.”

I turn my head, my lips still tingling from hers. “What?”

“Damien?”

I whip my head toward the office door where Max stands. She’s frozen in place, a look of horror on her face over what she sees before her. And when I look back at Psyche, I realize that she’s morphed back into Nadya.

Max’s expression goes from shock to confusion to outright anger.

Did she see her kissing Psyche? After those reports that “Nadya” made to the press about us having a secret affair…

“Max,” I say through kiss-roughened lips. “Max!”

But she’s turned and left the office, running out the door.

“An eye for an eye, Eros,” Psyche says in an icy tone to me.

I raise my finger to her, but I’m shaking so bad, I can’t form the words. My mind is whirring at the speed of Hermes right now, and the only thing that sticks out is the fact that Max is running away, believing that I’m cheating on her. With Nadya, no less.

I sprint out of my office.

“Mr. Eros!” Carrie yells after me.

I slow enough to give her instructions. “Call security and have them escort her out!”

And then, frankly, I don’t give a shit if she’s actually able to follow through with it. Right now, I’m worried about Max. And if she leaves.

She’s not at the elevators when I get there. I curse under my breath as I hit the call buttons. I hold my breath as I watch the numbers over the doors change. Out of the four elevators, there’s one heading toward the ground floor.

And one coming to my floor.

I run in and jam the button, hoping that I’m quick enough.

The ride to the bottom takes way too long, the floors seeming like they’re slowing the further along I go. I hold my breath, waiting, waiting…

Waiting.

Max, please don’t leave like this.

The double doors open, and I fling myself out. Joyce calls my name out at my unexpected intrusion, but I don’t stop.

Where the fuck is Max?

I run out to the street and see Max’s hastily retreating form.

“Max!”

She keeps walking. Of course, she does, I can tell by her short, staccato steps that she’s pissed. Which only further confirms that she saw too much of me in a compromising position.

I catch up to her, breathing heavily. “It’s not what it looks like.”

She stops abruptly, and I skid to a halt to look back at her. “It’s not what it looks like?” she hisses between clenched teeth. For the first time, I see that she’s crying. “What does it look like, Damien? Because it looks like you were kissing Nadya. After I believed you when you said there was nothing happening between you two!”

“There’s not!”

She starts laughing and combs a hand through her hair. “I mean, how could I ever believe that you were different? That you would have treated me any different?”

“Max, I—”

“You said you loved me!”

“I do love you!” I shout back, surprising both of us. “And that wasn’t Nadya. She…” Fuck where do I go from here? “She was my ex-wife!”

And that wasn’t the right thing to say. Max narrows her eyes at me, and I can feel the animosity coming off her in waves. “Nadya is your ex-wife?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I clear my throat, trying to collect my thoughts. Finally, I do the only thing I can think of and I take her by the hand.

“Let go of me,” she growls.

“Not until you hear me out.”

Of course, I had forgotten that she takes self-defense classes in her spare time. She twists in my grasp, and I suddenly find myself on my knees with both of my wrists pinned behind my back. Not exactly the way I wanted to talk to her.

“You remember that story of Psyche and Eros?” I say through gritted teeth. Max responds by tightening her hold on me, and I let out a groan despite myself. “She is Psyche. The real Psyche. My ex-wife from a long, long time ago.”

Max’s hold on me suddenly slackens. “What?”

I twist my head to meet her gaze, pleading with her. “I’m Eros, Max. The real Eros. The Greek god. I’m…the god of love.”

She lets go of me and steps back, shaking her head. “You’ve let your ego get to you.”

“Possibly,” I say. “But I’ve always been that way. I’m Eros. The son of Aphrodite and Ares. Of Greek Mythology. I’m here on Earth to be inspired by love again. And you inspired me, Max.”

There’s a long pause. It feels like everyone is watching us make this spectacle on the streets of New York.

“You’re fucking insane,” she whispers.

“I’m not,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’m not insane. Psyche is pretending to be Nadya to ruin my life here because I ruined her life all those years ago.”

She gives a short laugh. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Yes!”

She flinches at the desperation in my voice, considering it before crossing her arms. “You stay away from me,” she says. “You fucking stay away from me and my family, Damien. And get yourself some help. Stay away.”

She turns and flees. I debate running after her and showing her my true form. I can’t do that out here in front of everyone. But it’s not like she’d be willing to go somewhere private with me.

Fuck. I should have told her a long time ago. I should have done so many things different.

I fucked up big time. And I would give anything to change it.

I stagger backward, as if physically hurt by her words. Truthfully, it feels like my heart is shattering into a million pieces and then shit on by a cyclops. A whoosh of air escapes my lips as I remember to breathe.

Even though it kills me.

“An eye for an eye, Eros.” I whirl to see Psyche standing behind me, smiling with her arms crossed. “You’re welcome.”

I reach out to grab her because I know what’s about to happen. But she disappears before my eyes. Whatever has been keeping her going for thousands of years has given her the powers of a witch.

I could pursue her. See if I can get her to undo everything she’s done.

But I feel like I deserve it on some level. I’ve been such a huge fuck up my entire existence, this feels like a comeuppance.

I didn’t believe in love until I met Max. And now I’ve lost it.