Sunlight pierced through the open window and spilled across the bed.
A naked figure shifted beneath the warmth, muscles flexing beneath pale skin. His white hair was short and tousled, and when one lazy eyelid cracked open, a deep ocean-blue iris glimmered back at the world.
He woke fully, both eyes scanning the unfamiliar room.
His gaze stopped on a stunning middle-aged woman seated at the edge of the bed. Her long black hair framed a face with soft, inviting lips. Her body was curvaceous, a narrow waist with hips and a chest that would make any man look twice.
Her lips curled into an anxious smile. She was clearly struggling not to stare too openly at the impossibly handsome man before her.
"Hey… handsome. You're finally awake?"
He groaned, pushing himself upright. He stared at his hands, at his body — as if bewildered that he still existed.
"…Damn you," he whispered. "Damn you, Zeus."
His name was Eros, the God of Lust, Love, Sex, and Desire.
That was, until moments ago, when Olympus cast him screaming from the heavens and sealed him into mortal flesh.
"Damn you Zeus, Hera, Athena… and you too, Aphrodite," he spat, venom dripping from every syllable. "You think I'm finished? You think this will stop me?"
He jumped from the bed, trying to take flight, but instead smacked the ceiling and crashed to the floor. Pain shot up his spine.
His eyes widened in shock. His wings were gone. He let out a broken laugh, a hysterical edge in his voice.
"So that's how far you'll go. Strip me of everything. Crafty bastards…"
The woman shifted nervously unsure whether to run or help this unpredictable strange.
She had found him on her doorstep that morning — unconscious, naked, and breathtaking. Too breathtaking to call the police. Something about him felt unreal. As if the world quietly revolved around him.
"Um… sir? Are you alright?" she asked gently.
Eros froze. For the first time, he truly looked at her. And desire, faint but undeniable, flickered in his chest.
"Huh," he murmured. "Why does a mortal… seem so attractive to me?"
Veronica's cheeks flushed a shade deeper when she realized he was still entirely exposed."Um… sir? Can I get you some clothes?" she asked quickly, struggling not to stare.
"Clothes?" Eros repeated, genuinely puzzled. "What are those supposed to...."
He paused mid-sentence. There was something strange about his voice. It wasn't the rich, commanding tone that once made angels kneel. Now it sounded young and mortal. Like power and divinity had been stripped not just from his body, but his very presence.
Veronica hurried to her wardrobe, pulling out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. "These were my ex-husband's. You can borrow them."
Eros studied the mortal garments like they were some strange curse, but he knew the truth now. He wasn't a god anymore.He had no wings, aura or his irresistible divine charm. Just a body driven by raw instinct and surprisingly human desire.
And that desire stirred again when he looked at Veronica.
The only mortal who had ever made him feel this way before was Psyche. Before....
He dragged the shirt over his torso; the seams strained around his chest and arms.
"Your former mate must have been a very small man," Eros said flatly.
Veronica blinked. "Excuse me?"
He looked down at the shirt, stretched nearly to tearing. "Yes. Small."
She tried not to laugh. "Compared to you, absolutely. So… what should I call you?"
He placed a hand over his chest, as though reaffirming the truth of his identity.
"I am Eros," he declared, chin held high. "God of Lust and Desire."
Veronica stared at him like he'd just announced he was Santa Claus.
"…Did you just say you're a god?"
"Yes. Obviously." He gestured vaguely at himself. "Look at me."
She gave him another slow, uncertain once-over. "Okay, well… Eros," she said carefully, "gods usually don't fall half-dead onto random porches in the suburbs."
Eros frowned, his pride wounded.
Before he could respond, his knees buckled.
A sharp pain lanced through his heart, like something precious was missing.
Veronica rushed toward him. "Hey...! Are you alright?"
He tried to catch his breath.
"They stole my relics…" he muttered.
"My hearts…"
The room vibrated with a pulse of forgotten power radiating from his chest. Veronica stumbled back,her eyes wide.
Eros looked up at her, determination burning behind his ocean-blue gaze.
"I will reclaim everything that was taken from me," he vowed. "And every god who betrayed me will kneel."
He didn't add the final thought aloud:
Especially the one who took Psyche from me.