Can't Fix Cupid

“You’re welcome,” I reply.

With a small smile, she releases her hold on my wrist and closes her eyes, snuggling her face into the pillow.

I have to force myself to walk away so that I don’t continue to stand over her like a fucking creep. In my closet, I change into a t-shirt and sweats despite the fact that I’d usually just sleep in a pair of boxers. I sit in the chair next to the balcony, pulling my laptop over to my lap, telling myself that I’m only staying in here in case she gets sick again and needs help.

That’s definitely the only reason.

Chapter 16

Trix

I peel open a crusty eyelid as a groan escapes my dry-as-a-desert mouth.

It takes me a few seconds of blinking around at my surroundings to remember where I am. “Shit. I upchucked in Warren Knight’s stool pool,” I groan to myself.

I move up in a sitting position and wipe off the little bit of drool from my chin that slipped out during my near comatose state.

My fingers skim over the black sheets that are currently wrapped around my body like I got into a kicking contest with them last night and lost, while my eyes focus on every detail of the room.

Fireplace: check. Balcony: check. Cupid currently sitting in the chair, watching me wake up like a freaking psycho: che—wait, what?

“Sev!” I whisper-screech, nearly falling out of the bed in surprise.

He grins. “Rough night, luv?”

I groan into my hands.

This is not a good way to wake up. Because I’m not just in Warren Knight’s house. Oh, no. I’m sleeping in Warren Knight’s fricken bedroom. These are his personal sheets that are lassoed around my body, and that was his pillow I was drooling on. Plus, I have a damn idiosyncratic cupidity supervisor who has obviously been sitting here watching me slumberjack like he’s Edward fricken Cullen.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss over at him, still trying to get my bearings.

I try really hard not to focus on the mortifying memories that start filtering in from last night, but it’s impossible. They’re knocking against my skull like a bill collector refusing to leave.

That little brain memento of me wiping my vomit-saturated lips on Warren’s collar while he carried me to the car? Don’t want it. The brain video of me spewing more liquid into his car’s ice holder while I’m pretty sure I peed a little because it was so violent? Yeah, don’t need that either, but there it is.

Sev shrugs, his chin poised in his palm as he balances his elbow against the armrest of the chair. His red wings are squished against the leather cushion, and his legs are spread wider than I would’ve thought possible in his very tight leather pants.

“You’re a right tosser of a sleeper, Triple X.”

“I was sick,” I say a tad defensively.

He wrinkles his nose. “Fooking gross, luv.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly. Like, really dryly. My mouth feels like I’ve been sucking on cotton balls.

“Anyway, came to tell you the news.”

“News?”

He musses his pink hair. “Yup. Seems you made a Lust Match last night. Got the report this morning.”

My eyes widen. “I did?”

I knew it. Blue totally peeled Harvey’s banana. Ha! Mud wrestling indeed.

Sev nods. “It ain’t love, but it’s a right start, ain’t it? As soon as it happened, your cupidity flared. Felt it all the way back in the Veil. So, it looks like as long as you keep it up, your cupidity will realign or some shite. Should be able to suck you back into the Veil in no time.”

A wave of relief washes over me. I can’t believe the Veil actually gave me credit for Harvey and Blue’s match. All I did was get them together, but I guess that’s all the push that was needed. Maybe I have a shot of becoming a proper cupid after all.