Page 2 of Always Eros

The more I drink, the more I feel my strength returning, the fever fog lifting away. My body sits more solid around me, my breathing deep and steady once more.

“How…?” I’m too astonished to speak as the illness slips away, leaving me intact and clear-headed again. As I focus on the man hovering over me, two other men linger at the foot of my bed, but then I realize I am not in my room.

I sit up abruptly in a panic. “Where am I?”

“My home,” the man with light brown hair says. His accent is definitely Irish. “Do not be afraid, Henry.”

“You address me as if we are friends.”

“I hope we will be since it is I who brought you back to life.”

“Did I… did I die?”

“Not completely, however, your family doctor believes you did. I was summoned to your death bed to help with my ‘black magic’ as your father calls it.” He smiles, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “But you were still here. Just barely.”

The two men at the end of the bed study me with curious faces. “Who are you?” I ask.

“I am Yves,” the man closest to me says. “These are my brothers, Alessio and Leander.”

Alessio has olive skin and long black hair, with features that look carved from marble. Leander is dark haired too, but his falls to his shoulders, his features soft and almost pretty. There’s not a hint of resemblance between them all, but I choose not to voice this observation. “Am I well now?”

“You are,” Yves says.

“So I may go?”

“By all means,” Yves answers, a smirk on his lips. “But first, I offer you an alternative.”

I scoff. “An alternative? I am a prince of the crown. I do not have alternatives available to me.”

“Ah, but you do now. Your family believes you to be dead. They are mourning you as we speak, preparing for your state funeral.”

My chest tightens. “My mother grieves.”

“Yes. Your father too. They have not announced it yet, not until I return with a final report.”

I shake my head. “They gave me to you?”

“A last attempt to save their beloved eldest son. Your father is dubious, but your mother pleaded with him, and here you are. Resurrected.”

“What do you want? Money? We have plenty.”

The men in the room chuckle softly. “We want so much more than money,” Alessio says, his eyes oddly fixated on me. His accent sounds Italian to me.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Dear, sweet, princely Henry,” Yves says, carding his fingers through my hair in such a familiar way it staggers me. “Let me ask you this. What are you returning to, exactly?”

“I have… Erm, well, I am a prince. I have royal duties.”

“Such as?” Leander asks. He has a strange accent—slightly English, but mixed with something else.

“Whatever is required of me,” I answer. “I will likely make appearances to assure the public I am well. I may be asked to court another wife to produce an heir for my father.”

“Is that what you want?” Yves asks. “You have a rare opportunity, Henry. Leave your royal life behind for one so incredible your mind cannot even comprehend it. Come with us.”

I pull my head back slightly. “Come with you where?”

“On adventures,” Alessio says, sitting on the edge of the bed.