Page 6 of Desired By Eros

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her feet found the familiar softness of the rug she’d packed from home. She’d had to make compromises when moving here—leaving behind her weighted blanket, most of her books, and the little kitchen gadgets that made food prep predictable. But this rug had madethe cut, and she allowed herself a moment to focus on the texture, grounding herself in its familiarity.

Step one: make the bed.

Her hands moved with the precision of habit, tugging the sheets into neat lines, tucking the corners tightly, smoothing out every wrinkle. A properly made bed wasn’t just about order; it was about starting the day with control. If her bed was in order, she could face the rest of the world without spiraling into the chaos that always lurked at the edges. The top blanket was folded back precisely seven inches, and the pillow was placed in the exact center.

Perfect.

She inhaled deeply, exhaled through her nose, and moved to the bathroom. Every part of her morning routine was choreographed, from the electric toothbrush she’d brought from home—used for two minutes, evenly divided—to the small pump bottles of cleanser, toner, moisturizer, and sunscreen arranged in exact order.

This is how I stay balanced.The thought was a quiet mantra, a reminder of why these small rituals mattered.

She paused, her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. Her eyes traced the small details of her face—the faint smattering of freckles across her nose, the way her brown hair curled slightly at the ends. She tilted her head, letting herself focus only on what was there.I’m still me, no matter where I am.

The clothes she laid out the night before were chosen for comfort and practicality: a soft, forest-green sweater, black tights, and her favorite fleece socks. The weight of the sweater was soothing, grounding her further. Clothes like this helped shield her from sensory overload—soft textures, nothing scratchy, nothing too tight. The socks were like a hug for her feet. She pulled them on and felt her breathing even out.

Finally, she opened her daily tracking notebook, flipping to the page for today. Crisp handwriting filled the page, and every letter was carefully formed. It helped to see her day laid out in black and white, solid and unchanging.

A small note in the margin read: First day, take deep breaths. You’ll do fine. She checked off “wake-up routine” and wrote down her planned breakfast: oatmeal with blueberries, a touch of honey, and green tea.

The tightness in her chest loosened just a little as she closed the notebook and hugged it to her chest. Each part of her routine was a brick in the wall she built against the unknown. If she followed each step, nothing could knock it down.

Anchorage was new, the Alaska pack was new, but her routine wasn’t. It was the one piece of her life she carried with her, unshakable and steady.

The scent of coffee and woodsmoke greeted her as she descended the stairs, the faint murmur of voices drifting from the mess hall. She paused at the bottom, her fingers brushing the cool wood of the banister. The pack house was waking up. It was alive in a way her quiet apartment back home never was, but she wasn’t sure yet if she could match its rhythm.

One step at a time. Stick to the plan, and you’ll be okay.

The crisp Alaskan morning air greeted her as she stepped out of the community house, so she zipped up her fleece vest. The pack’s sprawling territory was buzzing with activity—people coming and going, voices mingling in easy conversation. She reminded herself to smile as she passed a group of pack members chatting near the entrance.

Say it. Don’t forget.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice even but a little quieter than intended. The group smiled and waved back. Their warmth seemed genuine.

It was beautiful here, serene in a way that made her chest ache. But the beauty didn’t cancel out the energy it took to navigate these social moments. She tucked her hands into her pockets as she continued toward the Alpha’s house.

Remember to smile. Look people in the eye—not too long, but enough to seem friendly. Don’t sound flat when you talk.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be friendly; it was just that her brain didn’t always translate what she felt into the expressions and tones others expected. Her old doctor used to call itAsperger’s Syndrome,though she knew now it was part of autism spectrum disorder. Whatever the label, it meant she had to think through things others seemed to do naturally.

By the time she reached the Alpha’s house, her shoulders were tight with effort, but the sight of Artemis standing at the door eased some of the tension. The Alpha’s mate looked as effortlessly poised as ever, her blonde hair pulled into a loose braid and a warm smile on her face. Behind her, two baby rockers gently swayed, occupied by a pair of wide-eyed infants who were watching their mother with laser focus.

“Psyche! Good morning,” Artemis greeted warmly, stepping aside to let her in.

The smell of cedar and something faintly floral lingered in the air, and Psyche found it a comforting combination.

“Good morning.” She tried to match Artemis’s smile, but a little voice in her head wondered if it came off wrong. Sometimes her tone and expression felt like a coat that didn’t quite fit.

Artemis didn’t seem fazed, which was a relief. She knew about Psyche’s autism, and that knowledge seemed to create a bubble of safety. Psyche didn’t have to worry quite as much about offending her or seeming rude.

“Come on in. The babies decided to join us this morning,” Artemis said, gesturing to the rockers as she led the way to the kitchen. Liam gurgled happily while Phoebe’s big blue eyesstayed fixed on her mother. Their little hands moved in unison as though powered by the same hidden engine.

“They’re adorable,” Psyche said softly, hoping the comment landed the way she intended. Compliments were still a work in progress for her—how to say them without sounding forced or abrupt.

Artemis beamed over her shoulder. “Thank you. They’re good most days, though I think Phoebe’s starting to teethe, so that’s been…an adventure.”

“These are magical baby carriers?” Psyche asked as the contraptions followed them.

“Ah, yes. My friend Hephaestus made them, you remember from the wedding yesterday?”

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