VALENTINE’S DAY, PRESENT
Valentin had been shot before. It was during his tour in the Special Forces before he’d been tapped to succeed the aging Cupid, and the bullet had ripped through his flesh, shattered his ribs, and punctured his lungs. He almost hadn’t survived, but the pain of that bullet tearing through him was nothing compared to the agony in his chest when he saw her. He would rather aim a gold-tipped arrow at his own heart than endure the sight before him. People often assumed Cupid’s arrows were sweet metaphors delivered by infantile cherubs, butthe bow strapped across his back was anything but innocent. Valentin was six feet and five inches of pure muscle, and the wicked bow curved brutally to hang down half of his body. There was nothing charming about its threatening appearance, nothing worthy of drawn hugs and kisses in its harsh angles. No, Cupid’s bow wasn’t magic that gifted romance. It was the defender of love, a weapon designed to protect the sanctity of that beautiful emotion, and if shot point-blank with one of his arrows, his Fae heart would explode into bloody tears.
And still, that pain would be a welcomed relief compared to staring at her. Nausea coiled in Valentin’s gut, and darkness blurred his vision. He didn’t know he could feel this viscerally, yet anguish riddled his chest all the same. It was too much to bear, too great to avoid, and ignoring everything he knew, everything he believed in, Valentin crossed the street and threw open the café door so violently the glass cracked.
The brunette recoiled as he strode toward her, terror bleeding into her eyes. He didn’t want to frighten her. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted. She was so fragilely human, so small and soft and sacred compared to his Fae size, but he couldn’t control the anger raging through him, the unbridled fear poisoning his blood. He had seen war, violence, death. None of them affected him like this sight, and he stormed for her, unable to stop. The beautiful brunette loosed a terrified grunt as she scrambled for the back of the café, but Valentin was upon her in two long strides. He caught her elbow in a gentle but firm hold and whirled her around to face him.
Her big brown eyes stared up at him with fear, tears blurring the chocolate color that matched the sweets she sold, and while some of her nerves were aimed at him, the horror he read in her features came from something else. Rage boiled in his chest to the point of pain. She was so delicate and perfect, and standing above her revealed in high definition what had made him soangry. His sight was better than a human’s, and he had noticed it across the street. He knew if he’d noticed the marks from that distance, she would look worse up close, but nothing prepared him for the reality. His rage doubled. He didn’t know he was capable of anger this severe, but as he stood above her, his wrath coiled around his heart so tight, he longed to draw his bow and use it for death, not love.
The brunette held his gaze, watching his fury multiply, but she didn’t pull away. She lingered against his hold, and Valentin realized she was waiting for him to help her, for him to prove he wasn’t like whoever she was fleeing, and a possessive tenderness wove through his anger, softening its jagged edges. Rules be damned. He didn’t care anymore. Not when she looked at him with such desperate hope.
With reverent fingers, Valentin brushed his thumb over her bloodied bottom lip. Crimson stained his finger, and never had the color of love been so vile. His eyes flashed, and he saw the minute she realized his righteous anger was for her. A terrified yet relieved sob escaped her lips, and he cupped her face gently, careful to avoid the bruises. He could smell her blood mixing with the chocolate and coffee that always scented her skin, and slowly he lowered his forehead to hers. He had to stoop to reach, but the moment their skin pressed together, he spoke low and clear and deadly.
“Who did this to you?”
THE DAY BEFORE VALENTINE’S, ONE YEAR AGO
All that’s left is for you to take this.” The retiring Cupid extended the bow and arrow to Valentin. Despite his centuries, Paris looked barely fifty, the lines on his forehead only just creasing his skin. Grey peppered his blond hair with distinguished grace, but his muscular stature was that of a younger man. Humans spread tales of Cupid, a sweet cherub who shot arrows laced with romance, but Paris was living proof of their flawed assumptions. Cupids, like the race of Santas, were Fae warriors. Men of incredible power, they were the guardiansof love, protectors of marriage, and while they aided humankind in binding their souls together, it was a ruthless job. Paris had held the position of Cupid for over two hundred years, but after his second century, he announced his watch had ended. It took another five years for the council to find a worthy successor in Valentin. A decorated soldier who had survived the impossible, Valentin’s election had been unanimous, and tomorrow would mark his first day as Cupid, a sacred title he would hold for centuries or until his death.
Valentin accepted the bow with reverent care, its golden metal its only delicate feature. Intricately forged, it was all harsh angles and threatening curves. It was a weapon of destruction, one worthy of an immortal guardian.
“May it serve you well,” Paris said, clapping Valentin on the shoulder. “I’ll miss it, but it’s in good hands.”
“I will bring honor to the role as you did.” Valentin tilted his head with respect.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Paris smiled. “Now, before we get too sentimental, I will gracefully bow out. I have a flight to catch.”
Valentin quirked his eyebrows in a question.
“I finally decided to take a vacation.” Paris laughed.
“You a vacation?” Valentin meant the words to sound like a tease, but shock escaped his lips instead.
“I know, I know. I don’t recognize myself, but here I am, getting on a plane.”
“Where are you going?”
“A tropical cruise.” Paris smiled wistfully. “We kept it quiet so as to not disrupt the succession, but Venus and I are getting married.”
“Married? And you didn’t tell me?”
“You have enough on your plate, my boy. This job. It protects human love, but it keeps the reigning Cupid busy. It won’t leaveyou time for romance, and I didn’t want to smear my marriage in your face, knowing you’ll most likely spend the next decades alone.”
“Paris.” Valentin clapped his mentor on the back. “I could never resent you for what you found with Venus. I only wish I could be at the wedding.”
“If it makes you feel better, no one’s invited to the wedding,” Paris said. “We want it to be just us, the open sea, and our vows.”
“I’m happy for you.” Valentin smiled. If anyone deserved happiness, it was the man who’d dedicated the last two centuries to protecting countless couples. “I wish you and Venus every blessing. You deserve it.”
Paris grabbed his protégé and pulled him in for a hug. “We’ll speak soon. I’m always here for you, my boy… just not on my honeymoon. If you even think of bothering me while I’m on that cruise, I’ll punch you.”
“I’d like to see you try, old man.” Valentin laughed, leaning into his friend’s embrace. They had grown close over the past few years, and this goodbye pained him more than he expected it would.
“You have the potential to be a greater Cupid than I was.” Paris pulled back, his affectionate voice grave. “Just remember, Cupids are tasked with guarding love. We protect human romance, but we never get involved with their relationships. Our emotional interference disrupts their hearts’ ability to find their soulmate. It’ll be difficult. The urge to become personally invested will often be unbearably strong, especially in heartbreaking cases, but that’s not the job. We work in the shadows, never in their presence. Remember this warning when you witness situations that test your resolve. I struggled to remain aloof and unbiased at first, but to involve yourself directly in the love lives of humans is to doom fate. It’s the worst sin a Cupid could commit.”
EIGHT MONTHS AGO
Valentin smelled the shop from a block away. He was accustomed to the scent of chocolate, the sweet synonymous with romance, but this fragrance? It was magic on the breeze. For a moment, he forgot he wasn’t in the Fae realm. It seemed impossible to smell beauty that delicious here among mankind, yet the chocolate’s perfume wrapped him in warmth and desire. It settled in his chest, tugging him down the street with its siren’s call. He followed its pull, stepping invisibly through the crowded sidewalk. He stood a head taller than most men, his ice-blond hair shockingly enticing, his crystal blue eyes like oceans begging to be drowned in, yet no one noticed the hulking Adonis. His glamour was a necessity of his position, but he missed eyes on him. He saw everyone, but no one saw him. He understood now why Paris hadn’t announced his wedding. Cupid was a blessing to those who received his protection, but a curse of loneliness to the warrior who carried the bow.
