He ran his hand roughly through his hair. The mortals were keeping him far too busy avenging broken hearts. So much so that it seemed like they were playing a game. Don't get him wrong, Anteros enjoyed a good game, but when the game involved playing with another's heart and affections, it made him see red. Love was supposed to be a special gift, not something bandied about as if it had no meaning.
The erote had been ready to leave Paris, ready to go someplace far away. It was time to recharge. If he had to deal with much more cruelty in the name of love, he was going to snap.
But he hadn't left. He had heard rumors that Lady Charlotte Gramont was heartbroken. Anteros decided to investigate before taking his leave of this place.
He appeared in her chambers, hidden from prying eyes. The erote needed more information. He needed to know what happened, needed to know if he needed to wreak his vengeance.
There were tears, there was always tears. There was nothing Anteros hated more than a woman crying. It always made his heart ache and made him want to act, to make up for the hurt and pain.
It was then that he saw her face. Lady Charlotte Gramont was not a stranger. It was not a stranger crying, it was Lottie, his friend Lottie. Anteros' temper started to rise, no one hurt his friends.
He materialized and walked over to the crying woman. He pulled Lottie into his arms and hugged her. "It's ok, Lottie. I'll take care of it. Who hurt you?"