I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. A drop of water had gotten down in my ear so I had to stop and tilt my head to the side until it drained before I could move on with my life. Then I brushed my teeth and pulled on my boxers before waltzing out to face the day.

A few years ago I'd decided to move to a new bedroom and had decided to furnish it all on my own without any outside help. My new room was small—this is, comparatively small. There was a platform bed on one side, a dresser and closet on the other, and a small, built-in desk in the far corner with a bar stool in front of it. The closet wasn't a walk-in, I'd gotten the antique dresser and barstool at a garage sale and refurbished them myself, and—horror of horrors—the bed was a queen size. Zeus had nearly gone into conniptions the first time he'd walked in.

"Are you dumping me?" he'd demanded.

"What? No."

"Then why does it feel like you're trying to squeeze me out of your life?" He'd walked around the room, stretching out his arms like he was measuring the space. "Seven steps. It takes seven steps to get from one end to the other."

I'd rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on. There's two of us. This place is plenty big enough."

He'd whirled on me, his eyes suddenly bright. "I know what this is," He'd accused, pointing his finger at me. "You've become one of those weird minimalists!"

That had made me laugh. "You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's sad. Look at this place. It's tiny. You're the cupbearer to the King of Heaven. You deserve better than a broom closet."

"But this is what I want," I'd replied. "I like it how it is. Bedrooms aren't supposed to be the cathedrals of your life, Zeus. They're supposed to be your quiet monastery, a place of peace and mediation." I'd read that in a book once.

"So you've decided to become a monk now?" he'd grumbled.

I'd smiled and strolled over to him before wrapping my arms around his waist. "Not exactly," I'd purred, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him.

Zeus had gotten over it eventually, and though I'd never convinced him to take up the lifestyle himself, he had admitted to me once that my 'little' bed was cozier than the one in his room.

He was still there when I came out of the bathroom, his long limbs sprawled across the mattress like some giant starfish.

I chuckled as I grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt out of my closet and pulled them on before going over to my desk. I switched on my laptop and listened as it hummed to life, swinging my bare feet as I waited for it to warm up. I glanced over at Zeus, my memories sweeping up around me again.

The next morning, right after breakfast, I went to find my father. "I want you to go ahead with the marriage negotiations," I told him.

He nodded and wrote something down on a scrap of parchment.

I had to go out with the sheep after that. Life as a prince of Troy isn't always as grand as it sounds, and life as the third prince is even duller. I went and sat down under a tree, my face leaning against my palm, my jaw slack with boredom.

There was a rustling in the branches above me. I glanced up and nearly had a stroke when I saw a giant bird perched on a branch right above my head. I stared up at it for a long moment, my heart pounding. It the eagle from yesterday, and he was watching me just like he'd done then, his head turned so that he could see me with one of those big yellow eyes. I sat there, too terrified to move. It was one thing to see the monster eagle from a distance, but this close I could make out each individual feather and count its giant claws, each one longer than my hand. Holding my breath, I eased away from the tree, trying not to startle it. The eagle watched me go, never taking its eye off me. We stared each other down until I was out from under the tree and the leaves obscured my view. There was a loud whooshing noise, and the eagle flew off, soaring above my head until it disappeared into the distance. I watched it go, praying that it wouldn't come back.

Not much else happened that afternoon. I stayed away from any trees, and the eagle never came close to me again, though I did see him swooping by every now and then. Finally, I headed back to Troy, shooing my flock in front of me. I left them in their fold in the care of a servant and then walked into the city, pulling off my shepherd cap as I went.

People looked at me as I walked down the main road, many bowing as I passed by. I smiled at them even as I hurried to get away. I could feel their eyes on me, boring into my skin like invisible awls, gnawing away at my flesh. Mother had always said that they stared because I was beautiful, but I didn't feel beautiful when they watched me. I felt like a beetle trapped in the bottom of a bowl, scrabbling uselessly for a way out as little boys jeered at me from above.

The day was ending and the streets were crowded with people trying to get out of the city before the gates closed for the night. Every once in awhile I'd feel someone rub up against me. I ignored this as well as I could, but sometimes I couldn't help but cringe as I felt a hand brush along my arm in a very non-accidental way. I'd always look around, but with this press of people it was usually impossible to tell who'd done it.

Up ahead, I saw a familiar figure walking toward me, a basket of clothes under her arm. It was the blue-eyed laundress from the night before. She caught my eye and brazenly held my gaze as she drew closer. Just like before, my breath caught in my throat and I couldn't look away. Her lips turned up at the corners. At that moment the crowd around me compressed as a large cart rumbled down the street, people pushed to the sides of the road as it passed by. The girl met me then and turned sideways to squeeze between me and another traveler, her breasts pressing against my upper arm and her free hand snagging my belt, tugging on it a little. I shot her an astonished look, ready to tell her off, but in that instant I met her gaze again and lost all power of speech.

"Pardon me, my prince," she whispered between barely moving lips, her blue eyes dancing. And then she was gone, swallowed up in the crowd like she'd never existed. I scanned the street for her, searching for her dark head bobbing through the mass of people. I never regained sight of her and eventually gave up, turning back toward home.

I practiced my swordplay with Isandros once I got back, but I was so distracted that I could barely focus.

"What's up with you?" he wondered after I'd lost my third match in ten minutes.

I shrugged. "Just not into it today, I guess," I muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"Is this about your father?" he asked.

I glanced over at him. "What?"

"You looked pretty nervous when he wanted to talk to you yesterday."

I shuffled my feet, my cheeks blazing. If only Isandros knew the subject of our conversation he might not be so quick to pry. I decided to give him an answer, though not an entirely truthful one. "I'm getting married."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really? To whom?"

I shrugged. "Some girl from Corinth. I've never met her."

"Oh."

I looked over at him, desperately wanting to know what he was thinking. Was he jealous? Did he not want me to get married? Or did he just not care enough to say anything else?

"Um, how do you feel about that?" he asked eventually.

I shrugged again. "It's a good match."

He snorted. "Glad my parents haven't found any 'good matches' for me yet. Sounds pretty awful."

I smiled a little. "It does, doesn't it?"

We were quiet for several moments, neither of us knowing what to say.

"Well," he said at last, clapping his hands together. "You don't have to practice more if you don't feel like it. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"

I think he expected me to be excited, but the words made me feel hollow inside. I didn't want to leave him, not when I only had so much time before I wed. I argued with myself that now was the time to start the separation, making it gradual so that I wouldn't feel so much pain once I had to give him up for good. My heart rebelled against the notion. I never wanted to say goodbye to Isandros. "We don't have to," I replied. "I can keep going."

He gave me a little smile. "As much as I'd like to, I think we should take a break. Go get a good night's sleep."

I had to relent. We went into the armor room and put up our practice swords.

Isandros playfully punched my arm. "See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He shot me one last grin and headed off toward his home. I stood in the doorway of the armor room, unsure what to do. I wanted to go after Isandros, grab him by the back of his tunic and beg him to run away with me. We'd go find that mythical land where men could be together openly, not just in the shadows and behind closed doors. I wanted to be with Isandros, forever, not just as some love affair after I'd begotten a son or two.

I leaned against the door frame and rubbed my chest, feeling my heart break inside me.

There was a rustle of fabric next to me. I flinched and glanced to my left, only to come face to face with the blue-eyed girl. I swore and took a step away from her. How had she managed to sneak up without me seeing her?

The girl smiled at me. "Did I scare you?"

"What are you doing here?"

She pouted. "You don't want me here?" She took a step toward me and lowered her voice. "It looked like you did, when you were searching for me in the market earlier."

"I didn't—"

"Shhh," she place two fingers on my lips and looked up at me beneath half-lowered eyelids. "You don't have to apologize. I looked for you as well." She grinned. "Only my search was more successful."

"You shouldn't be here," I told her, glancing around. No one else was nearby, but I didn't want to risk being seen with her. It was obvious that she was some kind of harlot.

"Do you want to send me away? Why? Don't you think I'm pretty?" she tipped her head to the side, like she was genuinely curious. "I want you to think I'm pretty. Would you rather I have fair hair?"

She wasn't making any sense. "Your hair is fine," I said.

She smiled again. "Good. I was hoping you'd like it." Suddenly, she put her hand on my chest and pushed me back into the armor room, grabbing the front of my tunic when I almost fell backwards. She was strong for a girl. Laundry must be hard work.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"What would you like me to do?"

"What? Get away from me!"

"Why?" she asked, completely unperturbed by my tone. She leaned even closer to me, her hands winding up into my hair, bringing my face close to hers, her soft breasts pressed against my chest. I couldn't help but look into her eyes again, and all my thoughts vanished. "I've seen your sad eyes, Ganymede," she said, her breath fanning across my face. Her voice was like a silk rope, slithering around my mind and tying me fast. "Don't you want me to make you feel better? I can make you feel so good." Without another word, she kissed me full on the mouth. I froze, feeling her lips move against mine. I watched her, my eyes wide open. I'd never been kissed before and it was strange to have someone's face that close to my own. I noticed how long her nose was and the tiny flecks of black khole smattered across her cheek, like she'd rubbed her eye. Once her eyes weren't boring into mine, my brain was able to function again, and after another moment I disentangled myself from the kiss. She blinked up at me, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" I demanded. "I don't even know you. And I'd like you to leave."

She stared up at me, her mouth hanging open and her eyes blinking she hadn't understood me. "You want me to leave?" she asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

"Yes," I said, exasperated.

Her bottom lip began to tremble and to my utter amazement, her eyes began to sparkle with unshed tears. "So, you really don't want me?"

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"But, why? Why don't you want me? You said I was pretty!"

I could only gape at her helplessly, completely unsure what to do. "Please don't cry," I said.

She stomped her foot. "Why shouldn't I cry? You keep watching me and keep smiling at me and you say that I'm pretty and then you do this!"

"I do think you're pretty," I said. "Really. It's just that, well, I'm not looking for anyone to, um, make me feel good right now."

She huffed and looked up at me again, her blue eyes blazing. "Why not?" She narrowed her eyes. "Is there somebody else? There's somebody else, isn't there?"

"No," I said, wondering how in the world I'd gotten into this mess.

The girl didn't say anything for a few moments, the heat fading from those hypnotic eyes. She considered me. "Do you not want me to touch you because you don't want me? Or is it because you're afraid?" She came toward me again, her eyes beginning to smolder. I looked away before they could ensnare me again. I felt her touch my chest with her finger, trailing it up to the collar of my tunic. She rubbed the edge of the material between her fingers. I snatched her hand in my own, trying to push her away. "Have you ever been touched, Ganymede?"

I glared at the far wall, refusing to meet her gaze. "I want you to leave," I growled.

"I'd be gentle with you," she whispered. "I'd be good to you, my prince."

"Get out."

"Please," she pleaded. "Please, don't send me away. I've dreamed of you, Ganymede, I've dreamed of you every night since I first saw you. You fill my head every moment of the day and chase me though my sleep. I can't think about anything but you. Let me touch you. Let me make you feel like a man."

I closed my eyes. Who was this woman? How had I allowed this to happen? "I can't." I sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it. I have to go." I let go of her hand and walked past her. She didn't try to stop me. I paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. She was still turned away from me, her eyes on the floor.

I told myself to leave, to run away from this crazy girl and never look back. But something about her expression made that impossible. Inexplicably, I almost felt sorry for her. I cleared my throat.

She looked up at me, her extraordinary eyes suddenly dull.

"By the way," I said, giving her a tiny smile. "I never asked you what your name was."

She blinked at me a couple of times, and I wondered if she was going to answer. "It's Olympia," she said eventually.

I nodded once and hurried away.

My dreams were a mess that night.

They started out fine. I was walking through a beautiful forest, my hand in Isandros' as he led me to our paradise.

"We're nearly there, Ganymede," he said, looking at me over his shoulder. His eyes were dark and warm and his hair was slipping out of its tie again. I wanted to reach forward to push it back into place, but he was walking too fast and it was all I could do to keep up. I heard the roar of a waterfall up ahead.

"I love you," I told him, wondering where I got the courage.

He smiled at me, showing off his dimples.

My stomach fluttered when I thought about our destination. A romantic pool at the foot of a waterfall? My mind wandered to places it shouldn't. We'd be all alone there. All alone, no other person around for miles. I grinned, warmth spreading across my cheekbones.

There were just a few more trees up ahead. The path led around them, the sun shining through the leaves.

And then everything changed. The trees fell away, and stone walls rose up around me. Isandros changed into my brother Ilus, and the roar of the waterfall became the sound of a large crowd of people, their voices echoing around the chamber. My father stood at the far end of the hall with another man, both of them looking at me with eyes of ice. A slender figure stood beside them, draped in a gauzy veil. I tugged against Ilus' restraining hand.

"No," I begged. "No, please, don't make me. I don't want to marry her! I don't want to marry her!"

"Shut up," Ilus snapped, not looking at me. A shadow fell across us and I looked up to see the golden eagle swoop through the rafters, alighting right above my father, his yellow eye watching me.

"Let me go!" I screamed, fighting against my brother. "Please, let me go. Isandros! Isandros, help!" I looked around the room, but Isandros was nowhere to be seen. We came to the front of the room and Ilus held me still as my father blessed the marriage.

"May you have many children," he said, his deep voice booming throughout the hall. "And may this young woman tame my son's deviant heart."

"Aristomache," said the other man, presumably Pentares, her father. "Take off your veil. Let Ganymede see you."

I struggled against Ilus, sobbing to be let go. "I can't marry her, I can't. Father, please—"

The girl pulled her gauzy veil aside, revealing her face. Pale blue eyes scorched my skin, drawing me into a whirlwind of color and sound. I screamed, flailing, falling through space and time, sure that I was about to be smashed to splinters.

Then I was lying on the ground, soft grass cushioning my fall. The roar of a waterfall filled my ears, along with the gentle lap of water on stone and the rustle of wind through the trees.

"Isandros?"

"My prince," he whispered in my ear.

I grinned and rolled over to look at him, only to jerk back when I came face to face with a stranger. He was young, around my own age, with inky black curls and almost-colorless blue eyes. With a start, I realized that he looked just like Olympia. His pretty lips curled up in a smile and he crawled toward me on hands and knees, his eyes holding me in place. He rose over me where I lay sprawled on my back, his hands on either side of my head.

"I've dreamed of you, Ganymede," he whispered. They were Olympia's words, spoken in Isandros' voice. The stranger leaned down and kissed me, just like Olympia had. Only it was nothing like when she'd kissed me. Fire roared through my veins and I lost my mind. The strange boy's hand cradled the back of my head and I leaned up into the kiss, my eyes slipping closed. My hands crept around his back and I pulled him down onto me. He groaned and bucked his hips against me, grinding against my pelvis. I gasped, tilting my head back and feeling his lips descend down my throat.

"Isandros," I whimpered.

"No," said the stranger with Isandros' voice. "Don't say his name. You're with me now."

I looked up at him, melting beneath his gaze. "Who are you, then?"

But before he could answer, the dream melted away, the paradise shattering into a million silver stars. I opened my eyes, waking alone in my own bed. I pushed myself upright, feeling more confused than I ever had. I was also aroused, my cock stiff beneath the sheets. I ran a hand back through my hair, my face growing warm with the memory of the dream, even as my mouth twisted in chagrin. The boy in the dream hadn't been Isandros. He wasn't the man I loved. He hadn't even been real, just some male equivalent of my would-be seductress. And yet, when I'd woken, my first thought hadn't been shame over my dream-adultery. It had been disappointment that I hadn't gotten to learn the stranger's name.

"Dammit," I said, collapsing back against the pillows. My cock was lifting up the sheet, creating a tent. I glared at it, knowing I'd never be able to sleep if I didn't take care of it. I slid my hand beneath the sheet and closed my eyes, deliberately thinking about Isandros. I imagined his face hovering above me, his lips parted and brown eyes full of lust. Those were his fingers gripping me, his hand pumping up and down, sending shivers of pleasure across my entire body.

I let my imagination roam wild, thinking about the other things we'd be doing to each other if the first part of the dream had been real. I imagined the way his curly, brown hair would wave back and forth as he ground his erection against mine, our breathing coming in frantic gasps. Then he'd flip me over onto my stomach. In my fantasies, it was always Isandros who did the penetrating. Perhaps it wasn't very masculine of me, but I'd always wanted to be on the bottom half of my first sexual encounter, with Isandros—the stronger one, the braver one, the more manly one—entering me. I really didn't have much to offer anyone, but people said I was beautiful. I would be try to look beautiful for my love as he took me. I imagined what Isandros' face would look like once he was fully inside of me. His head would be thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure.

I groaned just thinking about it, my hand moving faster beneath the sheet. In my mind's eye, he began thrusting in time with my real-life hand movements. I was sure that I'd never want him to move that fast in actuality, but in my fantasies he rode me ragged, pumping into me for all he was worth. As I rose closer to my peak, my thoughts became frantic and my control slipped. Without me being able to stop it, the boy in my delusion changed. His skin lightened, his hands gripping my hips, holding me steady as he fucked me. Isandros' brown curls darkened to black and his face became radiant, his eyes otherworldly.

I pressed my free hand against my mouth to keep from crying out. The strange boy whispered to me again, using Isandros' voice. "I've dreamed of you, Ganymede," he said, looking down at Fantasy Me with those haunting eyes. "I've dreamed of you every night since I first saw you. You fill my head every moment of the day and chase me though my sleep." He tightened his grip on my hips and pulled me back against him as he lunged forward. Fantasy Me squealed and Real Me moaned against my fist. "I can't think about anything but you." He slammed into me again. "Let me touch you." Slam. I was so close to my climax that I started trembling. "Let me make you feel like a man," he growled, shoving himself into me one last time. In real life, I twisted into my pillow, pressing my face into it as I shouted, my body spasming as I released.

I collapsed against the bed, my ears ringing and my face still buried in the pillow. It was several moments before I could move. When I finally did, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for my breathing to slow. I contemplated what had just happened. Isandros was the love of my life, yet he'd not been the one I'd screamed for. I'd shouted for the stranger. Embarrassment swept over me, almost powerful enough to eradicate my euphoria.

Almost.