Love's Immortal Passion

by Cat Johnson

  Erato’s face became intensely serious. “I have bad news.”

  Acantha's heart skipped a beat. “What?”

  “Apparently, I can’t cook. I nearly exploded the kitchen trying to work the stove and that contraption over there that I think brews coffee was just beyond me. Oh, and someone wants you to call them. There was a note.” His face lit once again with a luminous smile. “But I did discover I love fruit, chocolate and that sparkling wine.”

  Acantha laughed until the tears of relief blurred her eyes. “It’s okay. I can cook for us.”

  He squeezed her tighter. “One of the many things to love about you.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. “Love?” The word slipped out unbidden.

  Erato tilted his head to the side. “Acantha, you fill my heart. Even being this small distance from you the past hour was nearly unbearable. I almost woke you just to gaze into the brilliancy of your eyes. If that's not love, then I don’t know what love is. In fact, I think until yesterday, until you, I couldn't comprehend the meaning of the word.”

  “No man has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  “Then all the men you have known before me have been fools.” Erato took her face in his hands and leaned so close she could see the flecks of gold in his emerald eyes. “I love you, Acantha.”

  She laughed tearfully. “And I love you, Erato.”

  An unseen force knocked Acantha away from him and off her feet, and as she felt her head strike the floor she was aware of a brilliant flash of light, and then nothing more.

  Chapter Six

  In his chamber, Erato sat and gazed into the mirror as the serving girl fastened the myrtle and rose wreath upon his head. He glared again at the parchment invitation—nay, summons—he’d found slid under his door. Formal attire. He scowled at the thought.

  Erato’s only desire at the moment was to storm into Aphrodite’s chamber and demand she return his memory. Not that he could actually demand anything of the goddess. To do so would risk his life. He could try to cajole her into revealing something about his recent assignment in the mortal realm, but instead, he sat here, preparing for Zeus’s pointless assembly.

  He’d awoken that morning in his own bed, exhausted and confused and without an ounce of memory save the last few moments he’d spent in Aphrodite’s chamber when her kiss had stolen his mind. Erato only knew he had actually traveled to the mortal realm and back because he’d awoken with his legs covered in the clothing of a mortal commoner.

  Standing, he let out an angry huff of annoyance as the girl handed him his lyre, the final touch to his ensemble.

  “Have I angered you, my lord?” Her tiny body trembled beneath his gaze.

  Poor thing. He shouldn’t take out his annoyance at Aphrodite on the unfortunate servant. “No, you haven’t. You may leave.”

  She nodded and practically ran from the room as Erato shook his head at himself for frightening her. With a sigh, he made his way out the door and down the long, wide hallway to the assembly. The sooner this was done, the sooner he’d hopefully have some answers.

  His hopes for an explanation increased when Eros, splendidly outfitted in the Great Hall, greeted Erato warmly. “Hello, my good friend. You are looking no worse for wear after your journey.”

  Erato raised a brow. “Yes, about my journey. I’d love to know more about it.”

  Eros giggled as only he could. “Ah, Erato. Details are not important. What is, is that you were an overwhelming success, and in far less time than we’d anticipated. Aphrodite will reward you well, I'm sure.”

  The cherub grinned as Erato considered how he’d rather have his memory back than any other reward Aphrodite might give.

  Erato’s gaze roamed the rapidly filling hall, biding his time until this would be over and he could request an audience with Aphrodite, when his eyes stopped on one particular female. “Eros. Who is that nymph? She seems familiar.”

  “Who? Her?”

  Erato followed Eros's line of sight, then glanced down at his friend and noted the strange look on Eros's face. “Yes, her. Who is she?”

  Eros visibly swallowed. “Acantha.”

  Erato frowned, trying to bring forth a memory that hovered at the edge of his mind. “Acantha. Ah, yes. Now I remember.”

  “You do?” Eros squeaked out the question and Erato once again looked at him more closely over this strange behavior.

  “Yes, of course I do. Sister of Acanthus. She’s the nymph that Apollo was in love with for a while, isn’t she? She hasn’t been around lately. Whatever happened to her?”

  Eros's continence changed once again, looking almost relieved. “Yes, of course you’d remember her. It was quite the scandal back then. She rebuffed his advances and in the process, left a scratch on his precious face...”

  If Erato remembered correctly, it was more like attempted rape than an advance, but he let Eros continue uninterrupted.

  “…and as punishment, she was banished by that vain bastard Apollo.” Eros finished with a scowl.

  Erato nodded. He remembered Acantha’s fate now. He’d threatened to turn her into a tree, but instead doomed her to live in the mortal realm, but never be loved.

  There was no love lost between Eros and Apollo, either. Not since Apollo had insulted Eros's skill as an archer, and Eros retaliated by making Apollo fall in love with Daphne while at the same time making sure Daphne feared and hated Apollo in return. That had been a mess.

  Erato found his attention inexplicably drawn back to Acantha, who gazed serenely around the assembled group until her gaze met his. Then it was as if a lightning bolt sent a blast of ions straight through him. It had been a long time since a female, even a nymph, had that effect upon him. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?” Eros was back to looking at him oddly again.

  “Hmm, I think I’ll make time to find Acantha later. To welcome her back.” Perhaps while she was on her back. Erato was suddenly feeling quite amorous.

  Eros raised a brow. “I think you should attend Aphrodite later. As I said, she will want to see you.”

  Erato’s anger toward Aphrodite replaced any fantasies Acantha had inspired. “Yes, and you can be sure I want to see her as well.”

  *

  Erato entered Aphrodite’s chamber by Eros's side and was shocked when the goddess herself rose from her throne and stepped forward, her arms extended.

  “Erato. My favorite. You have surpassed all my expectations!” Aphrodite grabbed both of his hands warmly. “What can I give to you as reward? What is your heart’s desire?”

  Now was his chance, and Erato jumped at it. “My goddess, I thank you for your generosity. There is one thing I desire above all else. I would like my memories of the time I spent in the mortal realm returned to me.”

  She smiled and for one short moment, Erato hoped she would grant his request.

  “Ah, my muse. That is the one thing I cannot grant. But I know your desires well, and I will fulfill every last one of them.” The goddess turned from Erato to address the others in the room. “Whip bearer. Bring me my special oil. The rest of you may leave me.”

  Eros smirked knowingly before bowing and exiting, along with the others in the room.

  Erato felt his body react with an ache of longing in his bowels and a tingle in his spine as the bearer returned with the pot of oil, setting it on the table and awaiting further instructions.

  “You may go, my loyal man. Today I will handle things personally.” Her eyes never leaving Erato, Aphrodite addressed the masked whip bearer.

  Erato swallowed hard as she took the lyre from his grasp and laid it on the table next to the oil. “Perhaps later you will pleasure me with a song, Erato.”

  “I could play for you now, my goddess,” he suggested, unsure why he wished to delay what he’d always anticipated before.

  She raised a perfect brow, and then laughed. “Hmm. I wonder if you can play for me while I play with you. It would be an interesting experiment I think. Don
’t you?”

  That wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but his cock began to rise anyway, no matter what his mind thought. “Whatever my goddess desires.”

  “Oh, Erato.” She ran a hand down the front of his toga, stopping at the obviously swelling bulge between his legs. “You are always so responsive. Now, go to the wall and choose, my muse.”

  Erato drew in a shuddering breath as he stepped to the wall of whips. She’d told him to choose, but he knew her favorite, and to choose any other would be a gross folly on his part. He reached up with a trembling hand and took down the whip with the mother of pearl handle, then turned back to see the goddess smile.

  Aphrodite removed the lid and lifting the pot of uncovered oil, carried it to Erato. When she was just steps away the scent of rosemary hit him like a physical blow and memories flooded his mind.

  A pair of golden eyes. Hands that smelled of rosemary. A body that tasted as sweet as honey. A woman writhing beneath him.

  Acantha.

  It had been Acantha Erato had been sent to the mortal realm to find after Apollo banished her there to suffer an eternity of unrequited love. The pieces all began to fall into place. Aphrodite hated Apollo as much as her favorite, Eros, did. Going behind Apollo’s back to bring Acantha back was sure to anger Apollo, and that was exactly what Aphrodite and Eros wanted. Erato had been a pawn in yet another game of the gods. But Erato could play with the best of them.

  His mind reeled with the knowledge, just as his desire for Aphrodite waned to nothing. “My goddess, I fear I have picked up a mortal ailment from my journey.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “How is that possible?”

  “I am not a god. Just a lowly muse. I guess I am more susceptible than one as mighty as yourself. But it is clearly evident, I am ailing.” Erato laid the whip on the bed and used both hands to gather the lower edge of his toga, raising it to show Aphrodite a sight she had probably never seen in all of her years, the cock of a man who was not aroused by her beauty. It lay shriveled, barely visible amid a nest of dark curls and Erato had never been more pleased with its performance.

  In front of him, Aphrodite sputtered, then turned her face away from the sight. “Yes, Erato. It is clear you have contracted some horrible ailment from the commoners. I only hope it is not irreversible.”

  “My hope as well, goddess. May I be dismissed to seek the council of a healer?”

  Still obviously horrified, she nodded and dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. “Yes, of course.”

  Erato would have laughed at the look on the face he’d once considered beautiful above all others, but he was too angry with Aphrodite and too anxious to get to Acantha’s side.

  Would Acantha remember him?

  He bowed to the goddess and left the chamber at a near sprint, heading down the hallway to the nymphs’ wing of the palace, when a horrible thought nearly dropped him in his tracks.

  Erato spun in his sandals and instead headed for Eros's favorite haunt, the Archery Range. Once there, he spied the golden head as the god took aim at a target so far away Erato’s own eyes could barely make out its circular colors.

  He spun the young man by the shoulder and came face to face with a tiny arrow.

  “Erato! You nearly got yourself shot. What were you thinking?”

  “Did you shoot me, Eros?”

  “I almost did just now, you fool.”

  “No, I mean while I was in the mortal realm. Did you shoot me with one of your little golden arrows so I’d fall in love with Acantha?” Erato's stomach churned.

  Eros's eyes opened wide. “You remember?”

  “Yes, I remember, but I haven’t told anyone yet. I bet Apollo would be very interested in knowing how you and Aphrodite interfered in his affairs. Zeus, also.”

  Eros opened his mouth to speak, and Erato silenced him with a raised hand. “This can remain our little secret, Eros. Not even Aphrodite need know I remember if you tell me the truth now. Did your arrow make me fall in love with Acantha in the mortal realm?”

  Erato prayed with everything in him as he awaited Eros's answer.

  “I admit the plan was to let her fall naturally in love with you first, which we knew she would, and then shoot you so you’d fall in love with her.” At Eros's words, Erato let out a foul curse and had the overwhelming urge to break the golden boy’s neck. Eros continued, “But I didn’t have to, Erato. You fell in love with her all on your own.”

  He grabbed Eros's toga and growled. “The truth? I swear, Eros, if you are lying…”

  “It’s the truth, Erato. I swear to you. I was going to give you a mortal week and then shoot you, but you told her you loved her after one day. You loving her ended Acantha’s banishment, so we brought you immediately back to Mt. Olympus.”

  Erato released his grip on Eros and marveled at the truth he'd known deep down. He loved Acantha, without Eros's interference, and it had only taken one mortal day. The whole thing was incredible. Amazing.

  “I have to go.”

  “What are you going to do?” Eros called after him.

  Erato turned. “See if she remembers me.”

  “She won’t,” Eros shouted at his retreating back.

  “We’ll see.” Erato had a plan.

  Chapter Seven

  “Acantha.”

  She turned at the sound of her name as the man who’d spoken it entered the nymphs’ bathing chamber. Acantha dipped quickly beneath the water to hide her nudity, glancing around for something with which to cover herself.

  The equally nude nymph seated on the edge of the pool laughed. “You’ve been gone from Mt. Olympus too long, Acantha. You’ve become modest in your time away.”

  Acantha noticed the nymph stared boldly at the male muse who’d entered the room. The same muse she’d seen staring at her in the Great Hall during Zeus’s assembly. He knew her name and now he sought her out. Why?

  “May I speak with you in private, Acantha? Please,” the muse asked. Almost begged.

  Acantha glanced at the female on the edge of the pool, hoping she wouldn’t leave her alone with the stranger, even though there was something familiar about him.

  The muse too looked to the nymph, who rose and sauntered up to him, running one hand down the front of his toga. “Erato, I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done with that one.”

  Erato. As the nymph left them alone, the name she’d spoken tugged at Acantha’s memory, stirring strange feelings within her.

  “Acantha,” he said again.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know you, though you seem to know me.”

  He waded down the stairs of the pool, still fully clothed, and Acantha took a step back.

  His face showed pain at her retreat. “Please, don't fear me. I would never force myself on you. I promise.”

  “I don’t remember you,” she said, pleading.

  “I know.” His voice was gentle as he took another step forward. She forced herself to not take one back. He took yet another and stood directly in front of her now, taking a sprig of herb from within the folds of his toga. He crushed the needles between his fingers, and then held them to her nose. “Breathe.”

  The scent had her leaning inexplicably toward him, wanting him as much as she feared him. Confused, Acantha raised her gaze to his and something stirred within her. “I used to know you.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  A flash of naked limbs, slick oil, and cries of passion hit her like a blow. She touched her fingertips to her head.

  “I see images. You and I, we…” She blushed at the memory.

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  Acantha shook her head, frustrated. “I can’t remember any more.”

  He took another step forward until his chest brushed hers. He leaned his head down, his lips hovering near hers. “May I?”

  Bespelled, she nodded, frightened at her own urges. Afraid she might not care if he dropped his toga and took her right there in the water.

  His lips touched hers gently
at first, and then became more demanding before his mouth released her so he could speak. “Remember, Acantha.” His hands roamed down her back as his tongue ran over her throat. “Please, remember.”

  She felt his body, hard against hers through the wet cloth. He crushed the rosemary stem until there was nothing left but a bare twig, and then held his fingers to her nose as he said, “Please remember, Acantha. I love you. I can’t live an eternity without you.”

  He loved her? She inhaled again and suddenly it was all clear as day. How she’d fallen into the sea of his eyes the first time she’d seen them. All the things they’d done. Every word he’d said.

  “Erato.” Acantha breathed out the name of her love.

  His eyes opened wide. “You remember me?”

  Acantha nodded, a smile on her lips. “Yes, and I remember I love you.”

  He swept her into his arms and spun them both through the water, all while he kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, until they came to a stop against the wall of the pool. Then Erato’s expression became serious, the desire written clearly there.

  Her arms around his neck, she clasped her legs behind his back and felt him press against her. “Erato, my love. Now. Please, love me now.”

  “Yes. Now and forever, my Acantha,” he whispered. “You are mine, and only mine.”

  “Yes, yours,” she echoed. “Forever.”

  EROS'S VALENTINE

  The serving girl leaned over Eros and poured the blood red wine into his silver chalice, but it wasn’t the rich claret color of the liquid that captured his attention, but rather the dusky blush of her one exposed nipple, pebbled so near his lips he could almost taste it on his tongue.

  Never one to deny himself a simple pleasure, Eros did just that. With one hand on the girl's back, he pulled her near and held her there. When his teeth latched onto her peak, she drew in a sharp breath, but remained motionless, allowing Eros to suckle to his heart's content. There were other parts of this girl he'd like to taste as well. He hadn't indulged in the pleasures of this one yet. She was new. It was a situation he needed to rectify, but alas, he must be a good host now.