It was wrong. Gods, you knew it was wrong.

But, who could blame you as you watched Apollo nocking his arrow again- then, pulling the arrow back. His muscles flexed in the warmth of the sunlight. He was in his element, right where he’s supposed to be.

The arrow shot, and it felt as though it hit you through the heart rather than the target, the curse of Eros taking its hold over you, waves crashing down.