Hit by the Cupid Stick Read online

  HIT BY THE CUPID STICK

  BRIMSTONE INC.

  Abigail Owen

  Copyright © January 2022, Abigail Owen

  Smashwords Version

  Dedication

  To My Awesome Nerds

  HIT BY THE CUPID STICK

  All’s fair in love and…whatever this is.

  This Valentine’s Day, when a cupid accidentally shoots himself with his own arrow, he falls for a siren whose only job is to lure men to their deaths.

  * * *

  Charismatic and irresistibly fun, Chance Eroson is a cupid who gets a kick from pairing odd couples and being right about them. Used to getting his way, the only person who shuts him down is the siren who has ruined more than one of his pairings before they started. But his bigger problem is he wants her. He’s always wanted her.

  Elodie Sirenian uses her power for good, only hunting evil men. But after so long, and so many horrible people, her cynicism has settled deep inside. She can turn on the charm when she doesn’t mean it, and they fall for it. Every single one. Every single time.

  Except Chance. He’s the only person—man or god—who has ever challenged her.

  But a cupid’s magic is temporary. There’s no way a true love match is possible. Not this time.

  Chapter 1

  Elodie idly sipped at the fluffy pink drink some man at the bar had sent to her in an unoriginal bid for her attention. Some Valentine’s Day special with candy hearts floating in the frothy top. The holiday was only days away. She really was more of a whiskey girl, but if the poor shmuck wanted to pay for her drink, she wasn’t going to argue.

  The uber confident man, dressed to the nines in a three-piece power suit, hair perfectly styled, teeth perfectly white, flashed her a smile and lifted his own glass in her direction. She caught the blip of hesitation that matched his aura, so she threw him a bone and tipped her drink in thanks.

  She did not smile. Smiling would be an invitation, and three-piece-suit guy wasn’t her target.

  The man next to him, however…

  Dressed casually in threadbare jeans and a t-shirt that looked as if he’d slept in it, her prey ran his fingers through shaggy, dirty-blond hair that needed a cut. Not a single woman in here was giving him a second look. There was only one reason Elodie was.

  That aura.

  The colored haze floating around him was as clear to Elodie as the crystals in her favorite bracelet. Not black, like many of the men she hunted, his was a muddy mix of brown, grey, orange, and red. Studying auras was like a siren’s road map of the human soul, telling her the most important information of who and what a person was in that moment.

  She’d never—not in her two hundred years, seen a mix of colors quite like this. Self-involvement. Hopelessness. Self-control. Aggression. And anger. Lots and lots of anger.

  As a siren, her job was to lure unsuspecting men to their deaths.

  It had taken her only a single kill, when she’d matured and the hunger of her inner monster had first come upon her, to realize that she couldn’t do what she did to good men. But to men who deserved it? Violent men. Abusive men. Those who posed serious threats to women, children, or innocent animals... Yeah. She had no problem ridding the world of their kind.

  Three-piece-suit tipped his glass again, like she hadn’t seen him a second ago.

  What Elodie wanted to do was roll her eyes. What she did was lift her left hand and point to the diamond ring winking on her fourth finger. The ring she’d just slipped on under the bar. The one she’d bought herself just to deal with crap like this.

  Three-piece-suit shrugged like that wasn’t a problem and she briefly toyed with the idea of teaching him a lesson, just a peek at her monster, before she dealt with muddy-aura-guy beside him. But the suit was harmless. His aura was almost entirely yellow. He wanted to be alpha, but he was more like a puppy dog panting for attention.

  Give him a scrap and he’d never leave her alone. Deliberately she swiveled the stool, turning away.

  “I hope you haven’t set your heart on the one I’m after,” a deep, annoyingly familiar voice teased from behind her. “Because I have dibs.”

  Chance Eroson.

  A royal pain in Elodie’s perfectly formed ass.

  Elodie closed her eyes and reached for patience. Sirens were supposed to be known for that particular character trait, but she never had been like her sisters.

  “Chance,” she acknowledged, pasting an insincere smile to her lips as she faced him.

  Even knowing what to expect, impressions still hit in rapid succession. Broad shoulders, trim hips, a face somewhere between rugged and boy-next-door with floppy sandy-colored hair that somehow still appeared styled, and laughing blue eyes. Always laughing, at least at her. Unlike that panting puppy at the bar, Chance wore his three-piece suit—the suit didn’t wear him. The red tie was a nice, if obvious, touch given what he was and the upcoming holiday.

  If sin had a face, it would look like Chance Eroson. The man was as handsome as they came. Then again, a cupid would be. A child of gods, and a god himself, if a minor one, the man was genetically blessed. Same as Elodie. Which should make her immune.

  It didn’t. Which was the most frustrating part.

  Wanting him was a character flaw she hadn’t ever given into. As long as she didn’t count getting herself off to thoughts of him. Which Elodie didn’t.

  Worse, his aura was…nothing. No color surrounded him. She’d found the same to be true of any creatures gifted with extra-long life and supernatural powers. Dragon shifters, berserkers, demigods, witches, it didn’t matter.

  Did it bother her that she couldn’t get a read on him?

  Absolutely. But she’d never admit it to him the same way she’d never admit to wanting him.

  He’d better not be after the guy she was hunting.

  Since arriving in New York some hundred years ago, she and Chance had clashed every so often. Usually when he wanted to hook some couple up, shoot them full of arrows that would make them fuck like rabbits and fall in love, and she had to intervene. The last time, he’d almost convinced her that the man in question would let go of his evil thoughts, thoughts the guy had never acted, for the right woman. That she would give the man a better outlook on life. A better outlet for his kind of energy too.

  Almost. That man’s aura had told her a different story though.

  Chance could have been right. People were capable of change. But that guy wasn’t. He may not have acted on his thoughts, but he would. Eventually.

  She’d made Chance see it her way in the end.

  Luckily, they hadn’t clashed over too many people. Normally, Chance got it right, as far as she could tell. Though the man seemed to get a thrill from successfully pairing odd couples no one else would have seen together. Chance was in it for the challenge. She was in it for the mission. Rid the world of people who would see it burn. That and to slake the thirst of her monster.

  “Who are you after?” she asked. She even used a pleasant tone of voice.

  He stepped in closer, spinning her stool so she faced the bar, then closer still. Not touching, but she could feel the heat of him, the length of him, at her back. He leaned down to put his lips to her ear. “Him,” he said in a low voice.

  It had been a long time since a simple whisper had turned her on. She saw the worst in men. Even if she didn’t kill them, she could still read their auras. Their lust with no emotion. Their aggression. Their manipulation. All of which made it difficult to rev her engines. So the fact that her nipples tightened, pressing against the silk demi-cup of her bra was…distracting to say the least.

  “That’s not helpful,” she said dryly. “As usual.”

  His chuckle didn’t help the nipple situation any, sending a surge of warmth cascading through her.

  “Three-piece suit.” Chance picked up her glass. “The one who just bought you a drink. Although, if he has his eye on you, it might make my job matching him a tad more difficult.”

  Elodie’s muscles unknotted slightly. At least she wasn’t going to have to argue him out of this one.

  “With who?” Curiosity popped the words out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

  “Banana yellow shirt in the back corner.”

  She searched behind three-piece-suit and found the woman in question. Not only was the lady’s shirt bright yellow, but so was her aura. Elodie smiled despite herself.

  “I take it you approve?” he asked.

  How did he know? He was standing behind her.

  “Otherwise, you’d immediately argue.”

  How did he do that? She knew a cupid could read the minds of humans—helped with the job—but he couldn’t do that to her or other supernaturals. But the laughter in his voice told her he’d still managed to read her reaction regardless, and knew she’d be irritated about it. He didn’t know that the irritation was because it meant he knew her better than she wanted. Dangerous to let him that close.

  “Stay very still,” he said next.

  Elodie frowned and started to turn, except a glittering golden bow and arrow appeared at her side, arrow already nocked.

  He had to be joking. “Here?” she drawled. “You’re going to shoot them in a busy bar? Really?”

  “They’re lined up perfectly. I couldn’t have picked a better shot.” His voice was harder now. Focused. Sexy. If that’s how he sounded in bed…

  She shook off the thought.

  “Hurry up.” She had her own job to deal with.


  “You don’t rush love, baby girl.”

  “Call me baby girl, again, lover,” she snapped. “I dare you.”

  She wished she could see Chance’s face, because she suspected he was grinning. That title had always bothered her. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Lover is much better.”

  Elodie gritted her teeth.

  The glittering, magical bow raised above her shoulder. The humans wouldn’t see a thing. Not even his posture. Glamour of the gods meant they’d see something else. Probably him just talking to her.

  “Very, very still,” Chance whispered.

  Which was when she happened to shift her glance from three-piece-suit to muddy-aura-guy only to find his gaze trained directly on her. Eyes as dark as an oil slick glared with an intent that any human woman would have shivered at. But Elodie could see that damn aura.

  Without thinking she gasped and straightened in her seat, jerking back at the same time.

  She knocked right into Chance as he loosed his arrow. Instead of going through three-piece suit and toward banana yellow shirt, it went up, hit the mirrored ceiling, and ricocheted backward right at Elodie.

  The moment seemed to move in slow motion, and yet too fast for her to react. The glittering arrow pierced right through her chest, but no pain bloomed with it. Instead the sensation was like warmth and happiness and a bolt of pleasure directly to every erogenous zone, all in one.

  A grunt sounded behind her just as she spun. “I’m sorry. I—”

  The arrow lodged in Chance’s abdomen suddenly disappeared in a fall of gold glitter. Her gaze connected with the god of love, and in that instant, she knew. She knew he was the one. She knew she’d found her match. Someone who could walk beside her in life who would be her everything and she would be his. At the same time, she also knew she wanted to hike up the skirt of her dress, unzip his pants and straddle the man. Right here. Right now.

  Chance stared right back at her, his face etched with a thousand different emotions.

  “What just happened?” she managed to ask through stiff lips. She already knew. Gods above, she knew. She was just hoping he might tell her she was wrong. But he didn’t.

  They’d just been shot with his love arrow.

  She knew how they worked, had even seen it first-hand a time or two. Those golden arrows were designed to pass through the first person struck so it could lodge in the second person, until their connection solidified when they locked eyes for the first time. Even if it was days or weeks later.

  An irresistible, undeniable connection.

  Which meant she and Chance were screwed.

  Chapter 2

  “Fuck,” Chance muttered.

  He curled his hands around the back of Elodie’s seat, doing his damnedest not to reach for her. Not to claim those agonizingly perfect lips for his. Not to do a hell of a lot more than that.

  “Tell me your arrows don’t work on our kind,” she said. Practically begged. The strain around her mouth told him she was just wishing out loud.

  He didn’t know why she bothered. Hells he could smell her arousal. Honeysuckle and the sweet musk of a turned-on woman.

  “I’m afraid they do, lover.”

  How she managed to widen and narrow her eyes at the same time, he had no idea, but it was…adorable.

  A word he’d always associated with this woman.

  Which was ridiculous. Sirens were born and designed to lure men. They oozed sex. Elodie more than most, in his opinion. White-blond hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. Deep brown eyes that offset her hair, giving her a mysterious air. That smart mouth of hers that came up with zingers that made him want to laugh. A mind he knew was hidden under the looks. And lips that should be wrapped around…

  Damn it.

  The thing was…she was more than her thirst trap outer shell. Even if she didn’t want others to see that, hiding behind her seductress persona. Surprisingly caring for an ancient monster. She was the only siren he’d ever known to deliberately target men who were just plain evil. A lesson he’d learned the hard way the first time they’d met. He’d wanted to match one of her targets with a woman who would soften him. But Elodie had fought him tooth and nail.

  Not his finest moment.

  That’s when he’d first learned that his instincts about pairs weren’t entirely infallible. But he’d added more research to how he selected couples since then. Did a lot more mind reading.

  “So…” Elodie licked her lips, leaning closer, pupils dilated. “What happens now?”

  Excellent question.

  Given how hard he’d already been before the damn arrow struck, thanks to just whispering in her ear—a stupid move even at that moment—he was in trouble now. Except…except she was clearly struggling with the same reaction. And that was only possible if…

  He trailed a finger down the side of her cheek, skin petal soft against his touch. She closed her eyes, leaning into him.

  “You want me,” he murmured, while trying not to show the awe that realization shot through him.

  He’d thought he was alone in the wanting.

  A small, angry spark lit her dark eyes, turning the flecks golden, and she straightened away from his touch, only to lean forward again. “Of course I do,” she muttered haughtily, “you struck me with one of your arrows.”

  Did he tell her now that the level of desire, or connection—everything the arrow did—only built on what was naturally there?

  He didn’t make his couples feel things that didn’t already exist. People who didn’t know each other or didn’t have a spark of chemistry wouldn’t react to each other at all. Definitely not like this. But the ones where desire had been simmering under the surface for a while went up in flames. The ones with true liking fell in love in a blink.

  He smiled softly. “What happens now is up to you.”

  She frowned a little. “I don’t—”

  “We have some…time…before the effects wear off.”

  Her frown deepened. “It wears off?”

  Chance nodded. “My job is just to get a couple…started. A basic catalyst. It’s up to them after that.”

  “How long do we have?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on the couple, so it’s difficult to tell.” If she took him up on what he was about to suggest, he was damn well hoping for days.

  She crossed her legs. Rubbing them together in an unconscious gesture and he knew exactly why. Because her body needed the same thing his did. Release. Immediate release. And only release delivered at his hands.

  “So, what is up to me exactly?” she demanded.

  His siren was getting antsy.

  “You have two choices. Go home and lock yourself away until this wears off. A few days at most. It will be uncomfortable, but you can do it.”

  “Uncomfortable how?”

  He narrowed his eyes. She knew. She just didn’t want to admit it. Chance leaned in, hands on the bar on either side of her, forming a cage of sorts. Lips to her ear. “Option 2,” he said, letting the heaviness of need sink into his voice so that she couldn’t mistake it. “We fuck. A lot.”

  She was already tense against him and yet trembling. Resisting so hard.

  But he wasn’t going to talk her into this. It had to be her decision.

  Only…gods he wanted her. He’d always wanted her. But no way he was pressuring her. He wanted the woman in his bed willing, eager even.

  “Okay.” Her answer came in a whisper.

  Not good enough. He shook his head. “No. You’re going to have to tell me what you want. I need to be clear.”

  Doe brown eyes narrowed and darkened. He could see the competitive side of her reflected there. The side that liked to be in control. Then she stood up off her stool. Chance was tall, but Elodie was tiny, the top of her head only up to mis chest on him. No doubt another physical attribute that lured men. Human men needed to feel powerful, dominating.

  The move pressed her up against him, even as he eased back slightly to give her space. She looked him dead in the eye. “I’ll take fucking, please.”

  She grabbed her purse off the bar top, took him by the hand, and dragged him through the crowd, out the door, and into a waiting taxi.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.