Psyche's Heart : CUPID'S MATCH BOOK 3

Chapter 23

I sit at Cupid's breakfast bar, watching as he walks barefoot around his kitchen – opening cupboards and pulling out pots and pans. It's dark outside, now, and the underlighting from his white cupboards shines off the glass front of the house; our reflections concealing whatever may be lurking in his grounds. I find my eyes flickering towards it. I know the Furies aren't scheduled until Midnight, but still – after everything that's happened these past months, it's hard not to be wary.

"You like spaghetti?" says Cupid.

My head jerks back to him – his head buried in the fridge.

"Spaghetti sounds perfect."

"Good. Because it's either that or Froot loops with some questionable looking milk." He pokes his head out from around the fridge door. "Not been shopping for a while..."

He pulls out an onion – which he looks at studiously for a moment, holding it to the light - a pepper, and some minced beef and puts them on a chopping board on the breakfast bar between us.

Then he turns, fills a pot with boiling water, and sticks in a handful of dried pasta.

"Need some help?"

"No."

He turns back to the chopping board and starts to slice the onion – eyes focused on his hands.

I watch him – my eyes tracing the line of his jaw, his thick eyebrows, and the strands of gold in his tufted-up hair. He's still wearing his short sleeved black vest from his workout session with Cal, and I can see the tightness of his muscles as he moves the knife.

Though he's speaking to me now, there's still an aura of darkness hanging around him.

There are so many things I want to talk to him about. I want to talk to him about tonight – about how we're going to find Valentine and persuade him to give up the box. I want to talk to him about the , the gods of dreams that Charlie Googled about, and how they're helping Valentine talk to me. I want to talk about Psyche, and Venus, and how he is caught up in whatever happened between them and Valentine all those years ago.

But I can't quite find the words. I shift on the tall stool, wringing my hands together on the surface of the counter.

"Cal seemed pretty shocked to see Amena again," I say, finally.

Cupid looks up slowly, catches my eye.

"Yeah. They have a lot of history."

"You knew her too?"

He nods, picking up the chopping board and turning to the pan on the hob behind. He pushes the contents haphazardly in, and the sound of sizzling and the scent of cooking onions fills the room.

"How did she and Cal meet?"

"On one of his Matchmaking assignments. It was a long time ago. He was supposed to set her up with a guy. Only the guy – well he turned out to be jealous, possessive, controlling, emotionally abusive. A complete ass basically."