Page 5

“I don’t trust that you have his best interests at heart?” Sabine’s voice lifted at the end of the sentence, as if she were asking herself and not Hera.

It was laughable. So Hera allowed herself a few seconds of levity, her laughter sounding rusty even to her own ears.

“Do you need me to have any kind of interest behind my… request?”

She knew that the last word would be interpreted as nothing short of a demand and didn’t care.

Sabine narrowed her eyes. With anyone else, the gesture could’ve been ominous. With Hera, it didn’t quite rise to that. After all, and for whatever time she had left, she was still the Empress of Olympus. Perfect Matches, arrows, and all that dross had nothing on her.

“Well, normally when I cast my arrows, I am the one who has to have intent. And it’s usually the best possible one.”

Hera smirked.

“Aren’t we all glad you are not me, then?”

The chorus gasped. Sabine set her drink aside.

“Hera, if this is some complicated, twisted enterprise to get your ex-husband back⁠—”

Hera slammed her tumbler down, shards of glass flying in all directions. The bears dove under the pool table, hitting the floor with considerable force. The small earthquake they caused made the entire bar shake.

“Cupid, do not mistake my benevolence toward you for weakness. I have invited when I could have summoned. I have asked when I could have ordered. And you dare question me?”

Hera frowned, and the racks of bottles with liquor behind the bar exploded. Under the pool table, the bears whimpered. The bartender jumped out of the way. Sabine bit her lip, visibly shrinking from the glass shrapnel, as a shard sliced her cheek.

“I am the Goddess of matrimony, family, childbirth, and Olympus knows how many other imperatives. And I have never once demanded anything of you, Cupid. In fact, I blessed your marriage. Both of them, might I remind you. Do as I say and leave the questions for the mealy-mouthed Goddesses and Muses you are clearly used to dealing with.”

Sabine nodded jerkily. The darkness that had descended over the space cleared slowly.

Hera snapped her fingers, and the broken glass was swept up neatly into a pile by the door. Another snap and brand new bottles appeared on the racks behind the bar. The bartender stood up gingerly.

Sabine shifted in her seat.

“So one arrow? Just one?”

Hera drummed her fingers on the bar.

“Now you’re catching on. Just one arrow.”

Sabine exhaled slowly.

“Do I get discretion? Full discretion in terms of how I make your request happen? Tell me you don’t care how I use the arrow as long as I achieve what you’ve asked.”

Hera nodded breezily. What did she care who that man fell for? Her heart no longer stuttered in her chest at the thought. In fact, it sped up. Her plans were on their way. The stubborn Cupid and her ethics had almost derailed them. Thankfully, she knew how to make all manner of creatures see the light, so to speak.

Hera glanced at the clock on the wall by the door. Her next appointment would be here at any moment. She did not want the nosy Cupid to be privy to it. She waved her fingers at the exit, turning away from Sabine, who got the message fast enough.

Still, before she let her go, Hera reached over and almost carelessly touched the bleeding cheek. The tissue knitted immediately, blood drying out, the sharp cheekbone looking no different than before the Cupid had set foot in the bar twenty minutes ago. Hera smiled at her handiwork. It would not do to break her toys. Not yet.

Sabine winced, then got up from her stool, her high heels sticking a little to the linoleum, and, with a nod to the still-quaking-under-the-pool-table-bears, disappeared from the bar.

Hera exhaled, her shoulders drooping slightly. The scent of gun powder, steel, and spun caramel filled the space around her, and the bears whimpered loudly as sly footsteps approached. Her next appointment was right on time.

Good, she had been waiting too long. And while revenge was best served cold, this one was nothing short of the hottest person in the world.

In the muggy alley, Sabine watched as Nemesis crossed the threshold and headed towards the sticky bar top.

The failure from the Beltane Festival still stung. And it was entirely inexplicable. Nobody should be able to deflect, much less catch a Cupid’s arrow. No one was strong enough. And yet Nemesis seemed to have thwarted Sabine with ease and poise and dammit, sexy panache. Sabine hated that. Absolutely hated that. And admired it just a tiny bit.