My Eros

The gods have come, and the gods are here to stay.

I was eighteen when people started calling me a murderer...and I ended up bound to a god who has existed since the beginning of time.

My story began pretty much like yours.

A new girl who moves to Vermont,

A private school that's beautiful, mysterious, and deadly,

And also—-

Girl meets boy, boy wants girl, but...

Boy was not who he said he was.

And the girl's professor, he was beautiful and cruel—-

And he, too was not who he said he was.

I could tell you the rest, but then I'd have to kill you, in the name of The Ancient Order of Sub Rosa.

Note: THIS IS A MODERN RETELLING OF CUPID (Eros) AND PSYCHE. If you think this might be a vanilla read...it's not.

I've been awake since five in the morning, and I've already spent almost an entire hour under the shower, but it hasn't done anything to cool me down...every time I think of my last wet dream of the...god.

I almost used the word 'beast' for a second there to be honest, but I tell myself it's time to get real and accustom myself to certain facts like—

Two: Same god has also been doing his damned best to turn me into a pervert, and I'll...need to figure out what to do with that at some point in time, but for now we'll have to move on because—-

Three: If I don't get my ass out of the infirmary in thirty minutes, I'll be late on my first "official" day as a student of Rosethorne School.

The paper bag Nia's brought over from our suite contains several plastic-wrapped parcels: a messenger bag with the school's logo etched into its leather body, a pair of black Mary Janes, and a complete set of my uniform: a plaid blouse with contrast Peter Pan collars and cuffs, a dark-colored skirt, and a pair of thigh-high socks.

Keia isn't around when I get my discharge slip, and once I'm outside the infirmary, I find myself immediately disconcerted. It's my first time to see the private roads of Rosethorne to be buzzing with activity. There are students everywhere, walking, laughing, chatting, and...practically all of them turn to stare at me as I stride briskly past them, but not for the reason I imagined.

The good news: none of them seem to care about my appearance, and I'm thinking it's probably because everyone here's quite the looker. Then again, since everyone here is divinely "curated", I guess that part isn't much of a surprise.

As for the more-weird-than-bad news: none of them even cares to be subtle as they whisper about me, and all I'm hearing is how Professor Luscious did this or that with me, and it's making me feel more bewildered than offended.

I'm supposed to have killed over a dozen people, and yet all they care about is my two-legged medium of transportation to the infirmary?

It's just been one surreal thing after another since I came here, and I think it's time to accept the truth. Nothing is normal in Rosethorne, and when I finally get to Anise Building, my first glimpse of the classrooms in it only further proves my point. Chandeliers in the ceilings and antique writing desks with matching velvet cushioned chairs. How is that typical in any way?

Practically everyone in the classroom turns in my direction, but since I'm the new and tough Halyna now, I simply toss my hair over my shoulder so they know their jealous little scowls are nothing to me.

The only vacant seats left are on the front row, but I don't mind taking this. Creaturae, my first class, is the study of Old World creatures, and it's one of the few Post-3rd subjects that I'm genuinely interested in. Quite possibly, this class might be one of the rare silver linings of studying in Rosethorne...or so I stupidly think until I see everyone suddenly sit up just as Professor Luscious - I mean, Lucious - comes striding in.

I can hear the other girls giggling and sighing as he stands before us like a beautifully sculpted statue come to life. He's immaculately dressed as always: white buttoned-down shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, black pants, and buckled leather shoes. Understated elegance at its finest, really...that one would be forgiven to forget what a colossal jerk the professor is.

The professor doesn't even meet my gaze as he abruptly starts his lecture, and soon enough I also find myself momentarily forgetting his hatefully dazzling good looks as he launches into an in-depth discussion of shapeshifting.

Several hands shoot up when he asks for someone to do a recap of shapeshifting abilities for the quasi-divine, and the professor eventually picks the boy seated next to me to answer his question.

"Quasis can only shift into the form of their kindred animal, and all primary traits and characteristics shall remain the same in either form. If the quasi is male, then his kindred animal will also be male. If the quasi's kindred animal is a chameleon, then the quasi shall also be able to somewhat alter its physical appearance even in human form."

I barely manage to keep my jaw from dropping at this, but all around me I see the other kids simply nodding like this is the gospel truth they've been enlightened with since birth. In my former school, Creaturae lessons were criminally rudimental. Who's the goddess of wisdom? Where was her original seat of power? Jeopardy $100 questions basically while here in Rosethorne—-

"Today, we're going to talk about demigods," the professor says. "As most of you should know by now, a demigod will inherit the kindred animal that his or her divine parent can shift into. In some cases, however, a demigod may also be able to shift into a secondary kindred animal, but this will require great skill and energy. Full-blooded gods, on the other hand...has anyone read up in advance about this?"

If this class were an episode for Jeopardy, the question would've been reserved for All-Star goats, and yet the moment the professor finishes speaking, hands shoot back up in the air as an impressive number of students readily vie for his attention.

The professor gestures to someone at the back, and I barely manage to keep myself from grimacing when I see a brown-haired beauty flashing a sultry smile at his direction.

"Gods are kindred to all creatures, and so they can shift into any animal known to them."

I look down at my notebook and scowl. I could've known that, too, dammit. But because I came to this place two weeks late, it's all I can do to read and catch up with everyone's progress.

Several more rounds of graded recitation follow before the professor asks us to draw a shapeshifting chart for all three divine classes. When I see everyone pulling their drawers open, I do the same...and oh my Lord, is there no end to how surreal things are here?

Instead of pens and pencils, Rosethorne has us back in the Dark Ages, and for one moment I can only stare blankly at the assortment of quills and ink bottles neatly arranged in a drawer tray.

The professor's cool voice startles me, and I'm stunned to find him suddenly standing in front of my desk.

"Nope." That's completely pride talking, but whatever. Seeing that other students are giving their bottles a shake before uncapping them, I unthinkingly do the same...and end up having the whole thing burst out and sticky black ink splatter all over my face.

The whole class laughs, but I'm more annoyed with myself than humiliated. As fancy as Rosethorne is on the outside, high school is still high school, and I should've remembered that pranks are part of the standard initiation for new girls in school.

Here we go again, I can't help thinking. The professor coming to my rescue like some dashing knight when we both know his armor is all but tainted. My first instinct is to refuse him, but then an idea occurs to me, and before I know it, I'm already lifting my face to his—-

One, two, three seconds pass, and then the professor's dark gaze gleams in a way that almost makes me shiver. It's that gleam again. The one that makes me feel like I'm indeed an intriguing little thing to him...and nothing else. It's enough to make me hesitate and wonder if I've been too hasty by asking for his help, but before I can figure out my next move, I hear the professor say in a mockingly gentle voice, "It shall be my pleasure."

I can practically hear the girls gritting their teeth as the professor slowly wipes the ink from my face, and as his gaze never wavers from mine, I work hard to keep myself still. It's fine with me for the whole class to think I'm flirting with the professor, but it's another thing entirely for the professor to believe the same thing.

I need to make it clear to the professor that I'm just using him to piss the other girls off...but then I feel his fingers brush over the corner of my lips, and it's all over for me. My body trembles as my breath becomes uneven, and I can feel my cheeks heating up as I watch the professor's lips slowly curve in a smirk.

The professor uses his thumb for one last final sweep on my cheek. "There," he says ever so softly. "All clean now." He sounds unbelievably gentle, but in his eyes I only see the same cold amusement.

It terrifies me a little, but because everyone's still looking at us, I just bat my lashes at him and say throatily, "Thank you, professor."

I think I hear girls actually snarling like rabid dogs this time, and it's enough to make me forget what a jerk the professor is. For now, I'm just going to enjoy my little victory, and enjoy it I do as I find myself actually relishing the hostile scowls and glowers that the other girls shoot my way.

Come lunchtime - or as it's called here in Rosethorne, ora gia gévma - it's pretty clear that just about everyone knows of my tête à tête with the professor. While news always travels fast, and bad news travel even faster, it's the scandalous ones that travel the fastest, and what can be more scandalous than Rosethorne's most eligible professor falling for a student...who was once accused of mass murder?

Nia is actually grinning as she waves at me, and I can't help but laugh as I join my roommate at her table.

"I hear you just made the majority of Rosethorne's female population hate you this morning," she says excitedly. "Congratulations. I'm so proud of you."

"Uh...thanks." Since this is Nia, I'm pretty sure she means it, and she truly thinks an increasing enemy count is a person's source of pride.

I'm in the middle of puncturing a hole into my juice pack when I hear Nia speak in a warning tone, and I look at her with a frown. "What?"

Nia rolls her eyes at me. "Divine beings are the most jealous and possessive creatures ever, and you

just publicly flirted with a good-looking human," she points out. "It's not exactly something that will make your god or demigod say 'good job', is it?"