Page 1 of Desired By Eros

Chapter 1

Eros

Ovid once said, “There is more refreshment and stimulation in a nap, even of the briefest, than in all the alcohol ever distilled.”

Well, Eros, God of Love and Desire had met the Roman poet back in 16 BC, and that was a bunch of bullshit. Ovid never turned down alcohol, especially during a raucous orgy. Then again, Emperor Augustus did exile him to Tomis, so that might have mellowed down the notorious party animal.

While he could certainly relate to Ovid’s situation, to Eros, alcohol was the only thing that made his banishment bearable. To make matters worse, he was stuck here in the middle of Bumfuck, Alaska as amortalof all things, until he learned his lesson or died of old age or some other ghastly human affliction.

Or maybe I’ll get lucky and get hit by a bus tomorrow. At least he wouldn’t be so bored.

Fucking Council of Olympians.

It wasn’t like he meant to cause chaos. It was a tiny misunderstanding. A miniscule miscalculation, really. His love-based dating appWingedhad been meant to bring peopletogether. The magic he had infused in it lowered inhibitions so mortals could find their true loves more efficiently. Instead of endless chatting that led to nowhere, ghosting, or going on date after date hoping to find that spark with someone, mortals who matched on Wingedinstantly fell in love.

It was the perfect solution to modern dating woes. After all, didn’t that famous British band once say, “All you need is love.”?

How could he have known things would go sideways so quickly and so badly? That the mortals would be so wrapped up in each other that the whole world would come to a grinding halt? Or that, once he confessed his crimes—voluntarily, he might add—his punishment would be so harsh?

And so here he was, stuck on the Upperworld. According to the council, he would only regain his immortality if he learned his lesson. And that lesson?

To learn tobehuman.

What the fuck did that mean? In the one year he’d been down here, he hadn’t a clue how to accomplish that. And if he didn’t, he would die a mortal death.

It was going to be a very long fifty or sixty years.

“One more!” he called to the bartender.

“Er, don’t you think you’ve had enough, sir?” the bartender, a gangly young man who didn’t even look old enough to imbibe the beverages he sold, said. “You’ve finished a whole bottle.”

“No, not nearly, I’m afraid.” He pushed his glass toward him. “One. More.”

The youth shrugged, retrieved a new bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, and opened it. He was about to pour when a gruff voice from behind made him freeze.

“Hold it right there, Tom,” the voice said. “Put that damned bottle back.”

Tom gulped. “Er, sure thing, boss.”

Eros glanced behind him. “Hello, Jake. Fancy seeing you around here.”

“I do own the place.” The burly, dark-haired bearded man crossed his arms over his chest. “And didn’t I tell you you’re banned from entering my bar?”

“You did,” Eros drawled. “Unfortunately for you, Moosehead Tavern is the only place around here that serves a decent pour.”

“You’re still banned.”

“Aww, are you still angry about that fight last week? I never even raised a fist.”

“But you were the cause. Ashley and Beverly still aren’t talkin’ to each other.”

“Women, am I right?” He grinned at Jake, who remained stone-faced.

“You knew they were sisters, Eros. Why’d you sleep with them both?”

“Because they were hot and I was bored?” There was nothing else to do around here except drink and fuck. “Besides, they knew what they were getting into when they slept with me.”

“Just get out,” Jake groused. “Before I toss you out on yer ass myself.”

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