Haunts Of New York—Two Heartbeats

Parker exhaled slowly, then inhaled, his chest rising in a smooth, effortless motion. Time to focus. Nothing else mattered right now—just him. And, of course, that meant actually looking at himself.

Not in a mirror. That was too basic. No, he had better ways—his connection with Ere let him see himself through her eyes, and the second he did, he froze.

Oh, holy fucking hell.

So this was him?

The one who had made goddesses and primordials across the multiverse lose their damn composure? The one whose name had been whispered like some celestial forbidden desire? Yeah. This was him. The Prince of Existence. The problem? This was him young. Not even in his full prime, not even at the peak of his power. And still?

He looked like some divine artist had spent eternity perfecting every inch of him, like sin itself decided to take human form.

There was handsome, and then there was whatever the fuck he was.