Can't Fix Cupid

But instead of the perfect pink mist that’s supposed to come out of my mouth, I get a plume of watered-down pea soup smoke that has no Lust in it whatsoever. Nothing. Nada. Zip. It kinda just plops onto the table and slinks away like a slimy slug.

“Dammit!” I yell, pulling back. I try to stomp the ground in frustration, but instead, my foot just disappears into the floor all the way up to my ankle. I can’t even throw an acceptable hissy fit.

Knight’s date gets to her feet, tossing her napkin down. She walks around the table, her eyes glittering with contempt, and then leans in close so that their faces are right beside one another as she digs her phone out of her purse. “Well then, since this is all I’m getting out of a famous Warren Knight date, I might as well use my cousin’s favor to my full advantage, wouldn’t you agree?” she asks with a sneer.

His dark eyes flick to hers, somehow looking more bored than before, despite the enraged woman all up in his face space. “You’d be a stupid woman if you didn’t.”

I groan. And the asshole just keeps on leaking.

Her eyes tighten, but then she lets a huge, beautiful smile come out. Holding her phone in front of them, she turns her face. “Smile for the camera, Knight. Make all my followers believe you actually have a soul.”

I snort. “Good one, girl.”

Knight doesn’t smile of course, but he looks really hot anyway. All settled back in his high-backed chair, looking that perfect mixture of sharp and tousled. She snaps the photograph, and as soon as it’s done, she leans away and stuffs her phone into her purse. “I had a terrible time,” she tells him.

“Likewise,” he answers.

I facepalm. “Man, you’re the literal worst. Don’t you wanna get laid? I want you to get laid!” I tell him.

It’s true. I really do. Because like I said, I’ve seen this guy naked, and he is delicious. But so far, it’s been a no-go. He takes all these beautiful women out, but then he acts like such an ass that most of them don’t make it through dessert. Oddly, he seems relieved about that every single time.

Like right now. His date has barely made it to the exit of the restaurant, and already he’s grinning at the waitress and ordering the Mont Blanc chocolate pavlova, whatever that is.

I sit down across from him in the chair the woman just vacated, being extra careful to hover over the seat so my ass doesn’t sink through it. I give him my stern stare. “Look, Mr. Knight. I’m gonna level with you. This is not good,” I tell him with a chastising shake of my head. “You’re handsome, you’re successful, you have sweet digs, you’re rich. But you are failing in the love department. Big fat F minus.”

He stares down at his wine with his arm draped over the edge of the table as his thumb lightly raps against the glass.

Surrounded by people in the crowded, posh restaurant, he suddenly looks incredibly lonely. It’s these small moments, when his guarded mask slips for just a second, that I think I see something else in Warren Knight that nobody else does. That maybe there’s something deeper going on under his handsome skin that made him this way. But then, his asshole mask slips right back into place, and that vulnerability is gone before I can latch onto it.

“There you are!”

The sudden voice scares me so badly that I jump up and almost fly right through the damn chandelier. If I had a corporeal heart, it would’ve beat right out of my chest.

Scowling, I fly back down to my partner. “Shit, you scared me!”

She doesn’t look sorry for startling me. In fact, she looks pretty mad.

Cupid CXVI stands there with her arms crossed and shakes her head at me. With her beautiful dark skin and her cupid number marked into her wrist, her short spiky pink hair, red feathered wings outstretched behind her, and bow and arrow in her hands, she looks like a pissed off love goddess.

Oh...right. She is.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she reprimands.

“Sorry,” I say, feeling instantly guilty. I kind of got separated from her. And by that, I mean I purposely separated from her.

It’s not that One Hundred Sixteen is a drag to hang out with. Actually, she’s quite nice, and she’s a really good cupid. Her powers always work right, which is something I can’t say about myself.

Her Lust Breath is always the perfect hue of pink, and it instantly gets men hard and women wet. Her Flirt Touches are a thing of beauty too. One swipe of her finger, and people start spewing playful, naughty banter or go off to buy candy and flowers. And don’t even get me started on her success ratio for Love Arrow hits. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her miss. I can’t even get my arrows to magically refill in my quiver like they’re supposed to.

No matter what I do, my cupid powers just don’t work right. Which really sucks, considering this is my afterlife job for all of eternity.

Just to see if something has changed in the past fifteen minutes, I lean over to a couple’s table and try to blow some Lust their way. A gross, grayish green puff escapes me, and instantly, their faces turn from mildly interested in one another, to full-blown disgust. Nope. Definitely not working right. The woman takes one look at him and starts to gag. Whoops.

My partner sighs and flies over, fixing my mishap by blowing some Lust that actually works. It’s perfect, of course, and the woman’s gagging turns to sighs of desire as she shifts her legs together. The guy instantly hardens beneath his slacks, and all is right in their world again.

“Thanks,” I grumble to my partner.

She turns to me with a pinched expression. “You aren’t supposed to leave without me.”