WHEN THEY GOT DOWNSTAIRS, Pierce passed right by the salon and took her into the dining room, where a massive table served as the focal point. Set with opulent bone china place settings resting atop golden chargers, gold-rimmed crystal goblets, and an elaborate white floral arrangement, the table was fit for a king. The walls, made entirely of glass overlooked a stunning view of the city, framing the twinkling lights of Hollywood below. The skyline reminded her of the first time she had flown into Los Angeles. The view made her catch her breath and gave her an idea of how high up their home was.

“It’s a pleasure, finally being in your presence, my dear.”

The voice made her jump. She’d thought she and Pierce were alone in the room, but it wasn’t Pierce speaking. She was looking right at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, confused.

Pierce said, “I will leave you two alone.” As if it were as normal as could be for an invisible person to be talking to her.

“The two of us?” She turned and looked over her shoulder to ask what he meant by this, but he was already gone. Her eyes searched the walls for speakers where the voice might be coming from.

“I apologize. I realize this is awkward,” the voice coming from nowhere continued.

“I beg your pardon,” she began. “It sounds like someone is talking to me, but I cannot see you.” Am I losing my mind?

“I am aware. And I apologize. This must seem very strange to you. If you would feel more comfortable I can turn on a holographic substitute for myself, but unfortunately, unless you want to have our first meal together in the dark this is how it must be.”

“That’s awfully mysterious. But I guess a hologram would be better than feeling like I’m speaking to the invisible man.”

A soft chuckle came from the direction of his voice. His laugh was warm and infectious, and she wanted to see the man it belonged to.

Suddenly a fuzzy, yet intensely bright figure lit up the corner of the room. The brilliant lights morphed from indigo to violet-blue with red at its core. They made up the shape of a man but it proved impossible to make out anything other than the most basic human form.

“I can’t see your facial features or what you look like,” Psyche remarked.

“True,” he said, then after a pause, “is that what you value—what I look like?”

The figure approached her and when he was about a foot away, he extended his hands to her. She reached out and allowed him to take her hands in his. When he did, she felt the warmth of his skin even though she could see the holographic image was transparent.

“No, it’s not that how you look is so important. It’s just that I would like to get to know you, and memorizing her husband’s face seems like the first thing a wife should do when getting to know him.”

“You make a fine point, wife. Unfortunately, things will be different for you and me. Considering the life you’ve led, I would have thought you’d be weary of people making judgments based upon your looks by now.”

He was right. People were forever making snap decisions about her based upon her looks which was ridiculous. As if she were a blank canvas for other people to project their impulses, thoughts, and fantasies onto. In many ways she served as merely a vessel for communicating other’s contents on her channel. None of the real Psyche ever came through on her channel, yet people always thought they knew her. They thought whoever she was portraying was her.

She felt the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back. Instantly she relaxed a bit. His touching her that way felt protective, slightly possessive, and she was surprised it didn’t bother her.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” he asked.

“Thank you,” she said and sat down in the chair he pulled out for her. The chair slid forward effortlessly, and she waited as he took a seat across the table from her.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but can you eat?” She had not expected her husband to appear in this ethereal form, and now all her expectations and imaginings about this marriage seemed to fly out the window. She would’ve expected herself to be irritated, or even angry by the odd turn things had taken, but instead she was intrigued. There is something welcoming and charismatic about the creature whose aura sat across from her.

“Oh, I definitely eat. All the ways in which we please the mortal flesh are my domain, Psyche, and I intend to acquaint you with all of them.”

Butterflies fluttered in her abdomen. “I-I just wondered.”

Just then Pierce brought out a tray with their dinner upon it. The food looked delicious—a succulent chicken with root vegetables in a savory-looking sauce. Her husband thanked him and Pierce took a small bow then made himself scarce.

“So, will we have any sort of ceremony or . . . ?”

“Yes, of the carnal variety.”

She gulped. “You mean?”

“I mean we will consummate our marriage this evening. The act and the signed documents will make our union official.” Her nipples hardened, and she wondered if he noticed. It was strange, not being able to see his eyes. She had no way to ascertain where his attention was focused. “You will be able to touch me. I am made of flesh my dear. It is only to your sight that I’m invisible.

Her cheeks warmed. Of course he noticed. Psyche stammered, “I just . . . I’ve never been married before. I’m not sure what to expect.”

“Nor have I. We shall walk this new journey together.”

His voice caressed her like a swath of velvet skimming across her skin.

She nodded, taking a bite of her dinner.

“Did you see the art studio I had specially equipped for you?” he asked.

Her heart beat faster. “No, I didn’t.”

“Good. I wanted to be the one to show it to you, but Pierce was so excited about it, I honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to keep it a surprise.”

They both laughed.

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it then.”

“I don’t mean to sound like a stalker, but I’m a big fan of yours.”

“You mean from my channel?” she asked. For most women, if a man has been watching you and falling in love from afar, it’s creepy. For someone in the spotlight, it’s still somewhat creepy, but she knew there were millions of men out there who watched her. Fantasized about her. The whole thing felt surreal, and she was thrilled to be stepping out of that bizarre glass cage and into a more private life.

That was something she and her new husband had in a common—a desire for privacy. She determined that by where they would be living. Not only was her new home spacious, but its location was quite remote.

“From your channel, yes,” he said, and she wondered if she detected a touch of nerves on his part.

“You have me at quite a disadvantage then, doubly so with me not being able to see you. What should I call you?”

“Technically, my given is often associated with a curly-haired blond baby with wings, so I’d like you to call me ‘Q’.”

She laughed. “So you’re not a blond baby with wings?”

His voice was a deep baritone when he chuckled back. “Oh, I’m hardly a baby.”

She gulped. There was something so sexy in the way that he said that, she felt a twinge of excitement between her thighs.

“I see. Well, I’d like for you to call me Kiki.”

“Kiki it is.” Rays of red and blue light raised a glass to hers. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she took a sip of champagne instead.

The fiery red that dominated his aura exuded power and confidence. If he wound up being anything other than passionate when he took her to bed she was going to be supremely disappointed. She imagined his hard body moving firmly against hers, taking what he wanted and leaving her a sopping mess, ruined and sated by his love.

“Are you happy with the accommodations here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “What’s not to like?”

“Good.” She thought she heard a smile in his voice. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy.”

“Thank you. I hope I can make you happy as well,” she said shyly. And she didn’t say this because she was supposed to. Something about this invisible man made her want to please him more than anything.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. With Psyche occasionally marveling at the way the food on his plate or the wine in his glass disappeared before her very eyes even though she couldn’t see where they’d gone. It was like watching a movie with special effects.

Since she’d been a girl, she’d known about the magic in the world, that the gods came down from Mount Olympus occasionally. Her mother had told her that in the 2050’s the world had become so chaotic that the gods returned to Earth to sort things out and gain control of the world. These days they lived quietly adjacent to the world of humans, only interceding when necessary. Every so often there was a story on the interwebs about some havoc or other the authorities traced to the gods and their tempers or passions exploding, but she’d never experienced anything so otherworldly in her own life.

But there was something magical about her husband. He was something other than human, of that she had no doubt.

And she was eager to learn more. So after they finished their meal, when he said, “Are you ready to retire to the marriage bed, my pet?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed to breathe her answer, “Yes.”