Romantic Interludes

by TWCS Authors

  His delicious weight settled over her and she sighed in bliss. These feelings, this sweet intimacy, was what had always been missing from her life. She wanted to look into Eros’s eyes as he joined with her, but he laid his hand gently over her eyes. “Don’t,” he whispered. And then there was no more need for words.

  Psyche woke in the pre-dawn hours and opened her eyes before she remembered. A male body lay next to her, his back to her, curled on his side as he slept. Psyche feasted on his form, awed by his perfection. Her fingertips ached to reach out and caress his sun-kissed golden skin, to trace the contours of his sleekly toned muscles. He had the most adorable dimple on his bottom.

  With a sigh of contentment, she snuggled up to his back and drifted into sleep.

  A few hours later Eros woke her with a kiss, and she opened her eyes without thinking. She saw nothing but darkness and reached up, disappointed to discover he had draped the blindfold over her eyes.

  “Good morning,” Eros said.

  “Mm.” Psyche stretched, savoring the small aches in her body. “Good morning.”

  “Feel up to a small trip?”

  “Yeah, sure, let me get dressed.”

  “Taken care of,” he said, and her body was immediately covered with cloth.

  She blushed. “I, um, I was going to get cleaned up first.” Maybe gods didn’t need to bathe and brush their teeth, but human beings weren’t so fortunate.

  “Oh. I’ll wait.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. It landed on his jaw and she felt his cheek move beneath her lips in a smile. She removed the blindfold to find her way to the bathroom and re-donned it before she emerged and was folded into his arms.

  “Hold on,” he said, and she felt that strange spinning sensation again. A rumble grew in her ears, and then she felt cool mist on her cheeks. “Just a moment.” He drew her forward a few paces. “Here we are.” He led her down to the ground, where she sat with her back to his chest. He untied her blindfold and she gasped in astonishment at the sight before her.

  They were sitting on a blanket at the base of the massive waterfall. The water’s motion was slowed near the bottom by protruding rocks, so it reached the pool at the base in a gentle shower. All around it grew a brilliant tumble of flowers, swaying on the rocks in the mist churned up by the falling water.

  A small breakfast picnic had been spread out on shining dishes. Psyche smiled in delight and picked up a goblet that sparkled with rainbows in the warm morning sunlight. She took a sip and her eyes flew wide with shock. She’d never tasted anything like this.

  Eros chuckled. “Nectar. I see you like it.”

  “It’s extraordinary.”

  She munched happily on the paximathakia, a hard, sweet rusk biscuit she remembered eating while visiting her father’s family in Greece as a child. Cheese, fruit, and olives filled the other bowls. Eros did not eat any of it, instead nuzzling her ear with little kisses and nibbles that made it hard to concentrate on her meal.

  “Finished?” he asked.

  She nodded, because she couldn’t speak.

  “Close your eyes,” he directed and tugged her to her feet. She followed where he led her down into the water. Her clothes vanished, and the warm breeze and cool mist caressed her skin before she entered the gentle, teasing currents of the pool. She dove in and opened her eyes once she was safely below the water, losing her breath at the sight of the colorful fish that darted through the rocks below. There was so much to discover here, a delightful surprise around every corner.

  She surfaced and gasped for breath just before Eros captured her lips with his own. She wound her arms around his neck and moaned at the sensation of his warm, slippery skin against hers. He pulled her over to the rocks at the base of the waterfall, and her feet found a smooth ledge. His arms protected her back from the rock’s rough surface as he trailed his lips down her body, licking off the drops of water that showered on them from above.

  Psyche discovered that Greek Gods did not need to breathe underwater. Her head fell back hard against the stone, but she barely felt it amid the drugging pleasure of his lips and tongue.

  When he carried her back to the blanket, her muscles felt like limp noodles, and she was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. He lay down beside her and gave her a sweet kiss before they cuddled together and dozed off in the warm sunshine.

  She woke to a fluttering on her nose. She opened her eyes and laughed when she saw a butterfly placidly flexing its brilliant, jewel-toned wings. Psyche sat up to watch it fly away and glanced at Eros before realizing what she had done.

  He lay on his back, one arm cast up over his head, the other draped over his stomach. His hair was the color of rich coffee, shining in the sun. His features were younger than she had expected, beautifully sculpted. His lower lip had a hint of a pout that charmed her, and when he opened his eyes, she saw they were a light, sky blue.

  He saw her looking at him. The expression on his face stabbed her heart, a wounded mix of horror and fear.

  “Gods, Psyche, why?” he whispered.

  “I-I’m sorry.” She looked away quickly, as though it could somehow erase what she had done. “I didn’t mean to.” But that was a lie. She had longed to see him, longed to know him with her eyes as she knew him with her flesh and her heart.

  He surged to his feet and vanished, and Psyche shouted his name. There was no response, only the rumble of the waterfall. She looked up at his house perched on the edge of the cliff, a tiny dot a thousand feet away. Far away, as Eros now was. She hugged her knees to her chest and gave into the tears.

  When she lifted her head again, she was in her room, alone. The sunlight had faded and the room was shrouded in a gray gloom. She thought it was very fitting.

  “What’s wrong, man?” Mercury asked, appearing in the chair beside Eros.

  “How did you know?”

  Mercury nodded at the window. “I could see the clouds from my house. It looks like a Victorian gothic novel over here.”

  “She looked at me,” Eros said, his voice low and dull.

  “So?”

  Eros glared at him. “So I’ll never know if she really loves me or if it’s simply the power of the enchantment.”

  Mercury sighed. “I really thought you’d figure it out by now.”

  “Figure out what? I’m getting very damned tired of everyone being so cryptic.”

  Mercury grinned. “I don’t think I’ve heard you swear in a thousand years.”

  “Get out.”

  Mercury’s grin disappeared. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” Eros rubbed his forehead. “Would you please explain before I go mad?”

  “Psyche loves you, Eros. That’s why I knew it was safe to visit her. Her heart had already been given to you.”

  Eros simply stared at him.

  “Aphrodite knew it was coming.”

  “How?”

  Mercury shrugged. “She’s the goddess of love, man. It’s kind of her specialty.”

  Eros was afraid to hope.

  “Tell you what, go in there and ask her one question. Just one. Ask her if she feels any differently about you now than she did last night.”

  Psyche couldn’t cry anymore. Her breath was still hitched in sobs, but it seemed her tear ducts had run dry. She lay on her bed, which felt so cold and empty, and mourned the death of something that had just begun. Her heart hurt, a dull empty pain that only seemed to increase as the hours ticked slowly by.

  He’d trusted her, and she had betrayed that trust. Even though he’d obviously been wrong about the arrow’s effects, she had made a promise to him.

  He would send her home now. She was amazed at how unappealing she found that, even though she’d be glad to assure her parents she was safe. But the life she had once loved seemed so dull and colorless now.

  “Psyche.”

  She sat up so fast she nearly fell off the bed. “Eros!”

  He crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her.
She glanced at him and then away. His fingers touched under her chin and lifted it until her eyes met his own.

  “Look at me,” he said. “Please.”

  She did, though it only intensified the ache in her heart. “Eros, I’m sorry. I—”

  He shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. I understand why you did it. If I could not look at you . . . Psyche, it’s what I’ve done for years—watched you from a distance and wished I could speak to you, hold you, touch you.” He caressed her cheek, and she closed her eyes as the tears returned. Two fat droplets fell, and he brushed them away with his thumbs. “I have a question for you.”

  “Anything.”

  “Have your feelings for me changed?”

  “Oh, Eros, no.” She felt suddenly shy, but she had to say it. She might never get another chance. “I love you, Eros. And it came from my heart, not your arrow. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I—”

  And then Eros kissed her with such sudden intensity that she forgot what she was going to say.

  “I tried to tell him he couldn’t wear sneakers to a wedding,” Chloris said with a smile and a shake of her head.

  Psyche hugged her. She’d grown fond of Chloris over the last few months. “I’m just glad to have you both with us.”

  The wedding was held in Central Park. Psyche’s parents strolled among the guests, arm in arm. Nearly losing their daughter had brought them closer and made them realize just how precious life and love really were. They were getting remarried in the fall.

  Psyche had introduced Eros to her parents a few months after she had “escaped” her captors. To her, the time since then had flown by as though it were merely days. She spent nearly every moment with Eros on Olympus, though he returned to earth with her for the charity functions she still attended. Her parents loved him, especially her father, who was thrilled Psyche had found herself a Greek husband, and one who obviously adored her.

  This was what the fairy tales meant when they said, “happily ever after,” Psyche thought as she and her groom paused to kiss beneath a tree that rained cherry blossom petals on them. Psyche giggled and picked them off her Grecian-style wedding dress, and Eros plucked them from her hair, which was upswept under a crown loaned to them by Eros’s aunt Artemis for the ceremony. The little golden bow and arrow pin she wore on her gown had garnered a few questioning glances.

  Psyche saw her mother-in-law on the other side of the crowd, surrounded by infatuated, flirting men. Aphrodite caught Psyche’s eye and gave her a wink before casting at her son the smug I-told-you-so glance she’d been giving him for the past few months. Eros chuckled and put his arm around Psyche’s waist.

  Mercury gave Psyche a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations, sweetie. I brought you a little something.” He reached into his suit jacket pocket and withdrew a yogurt container. “It’s from my dad.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Psyche said, befuddled as to why Zeus would give her a half-eaten container of yogurt.

  Mercury snickered. “Open it.”

  She did, and beside her, Eros inhaled a sharp breath. Inside was what appeared to be liquid rainbows, a substance that shimmered and sparkled with dozens of colors. “What is it?”

  “It’s ambrosia,” Eros said in awe.

  The food of the gods, that which made them immortal. According to Aphrodite, Zeus was rather stingy with it, probably to keep them from sharing it with mortals as Mercury was doing now.

  Mercury produced a plastic spork from his pocket. “Eat up.”

  Eros took the spork and dipped it into the sparkling ambrosia. He lifted it to Psyche’s lips, and she gazed into his eyes before opening her mouth to accept the bite.

  “Forever,” Eros said, and he pulled his butterfly into his arms for a kiss.

  Ghostwriter by Lissa Bryan

  Category: Supernatural

  Publication date: Oct 11, 2012

  ISBN (paper): 978-1-61213-121-4

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-61213-122-1

  Summary: Unemployed, with her savings dwindling, Sara Howell thinks things are looking up when she lands a ghostwriting job and rents the affordable island home of her favorite author, Seth Fortner, who mysteriously disappeared in 1925.

  Strange things happen, making Sara wonder if Seth ever left. When she finds an old trunk of Seth’s letters, she delves into a world she never imagined, filled with love and a family curse it seems only she can break.

  http://ph.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/books/detail/69

  The End of All Things by Lissa Bryan

  Category: Dystopian

  Publication date: January 24, 2013

  ISBN (paper): 978-1-61213-141-2

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-61213-142-9

  Summary: After a terrible virus ravages the planet, Carly, one of the few survivors, hides in her apartment in Juneau trying to survive the best she can with only occasional forays to gather food. She is discovered by Justin, an ex-soldier intent on making his way to Florida before winter sets in. This is the story of their journey to find a place to begin a new life, and a home in each other.

  http://ph.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/books/detail/81

  BECKY HATED MONDAYS. She knew that it was silly because Tuesdays were her day off. Other people hated them because they had an entire week of work in front of them but not her. It should have been a good day because the next morning she could sleep in or read a book—do whatever she wanted, but she still hated Mondays.

  The problem with the start of the week—in Becky’s mind—was that the shop was so quiet. In general, people didn’t like to buy flowers early in the week, so she spent most of her time rearranging the perfectly arranged fresh flowers or perhaps doing yet another stock check or else she just daydreamed. Tuesdays were quiet, too, but that didn’t bother her because she wasn’t there. Only Jilly, the boss, worked that day. The middle of the week saw things beginning to pick up and by Thursday, business was brisk again. Folks often went visiting on a Thursday and they brought flowers to the hostess. Friday was even busier and, of course, Saturday they were run off their feet. But not Mondays.

  The 1st Monday

  Today, however, was different. He walked into The Little Flower Shop and the bell over the shop-door jingled. Jilly had decorated the place in an old fashioned style. The bell, for example, looked like an antique. It gave a friendly sort of tinkle as opposed to one of those nerve jangling electric buzzer noises that some places around the town used.

  She’d never seen this man in the shop before. He was tall, maybe six foot, and she guessed that he was in his late thirties. His hair was straight but cut short and the same dark brown color as her own. She put her hand to her head. Damn, she hadn’t bothered to wash it that morning. Instead, she’d tied it back in a bouncy pony tail. Oh well, too late now, she thought.

  He was staring at their fabulous selection of fresh cut flowers which gave her the chance to stare at him. Nicely dressed, she decided.

  He wore a charcoal gray sports jacket that fitted well and wasn’t frayed at the cuffs. By local standards, that was well dressed. He had a white shirt, cream chinos. No jeans—nice touch. Becky risked a look down at his shoes. They looked like leather. Yep, he was definitely well groomed. Probably married, she realized with a pang of dismay. It was a simple fact that cute single guys didn’t visit flower shops unless they were buying something for a girlfriend or a date. Jilly had told Becky that years ago.

  “If you want a job where you’re going to meet a guy, you’ll have to go work in a men’s clothing store in the city,” she suggested. “You’ll find rich guys in the expensive boutique-style shops and regular guys in The Gap and Target.” At the time Becky had laughed. She didn’t want to work in a men’s clothing store. She loved flowers—everything about them. She always had. The perfumes filled her head and their fragile beauty still took her breath away even after all the years she’d worked for Jilly.

  She knew everything there was to know about flowers. They were her passion. That, Jilly
said, was her problem. Even her boss had outside interests. Of course she loved all sorts of bouquets and arrangements, but Jilly also had a boyfriend named Tom. They played tennis together on Sundays. When Becky wasn’t in the shop, she was in her mother’s garden tinkering with the flowers and shrubs there.

  “Hi, can I help you?” she asked now, pushing her miserable love life from her mind.

  “Hello.” He looked a little lost. “Um, I’m looking for some flowers.”

  If she had a cent for every time somebody had said that to her. She suppressed the urge to tell him that she’d already guessed that much. Instead she pasted on a professional smile and decided to find out a little more about the man who had just entered her life.

  “For sure,” she said. “Is it a special occasion or a special woman?” She tilted her head, trying to make it sound like this information was a professional question and one necessary for her to help him make the right choice.

  He looked taken aback. “Oh, a bit of both I guess. She’s very special and this is a significant occasion so, yes.” He looked more certain now. “Both.”

  Another wedding engagement, Becky thought to herself but she didn’t show it on her face. It was early spring and the engagements always seemed to surge around now. Valentine’s Day kicked off the busy time in The Little Flower Shop. Other peaks were Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hanukkah. She supposed that they were all good times to get engaged but first you had to have a man.

  “Okay.” She forced another smile. “I think we need a doubly special bouquet.” Becky came out from behind the big pine table that they used as a counter and stood next to him as she purveyed all the newly arrived stock. He looked even taller now and broad, but there was hesitancy in his demeanor. He seemed a bit unsure of himself. She was accustomed to this because most men were a little lost when faced with so many flowers. The only ones that were comfortable were her regulars and this guy certainly wasn’t one of them.