*CUPID'S MATCH BOOK 3* FIRST DRAFT
For the third time, follow Lila into a world of cupids, arrows, betrayal, and love, in the Watty award winning series with over 50 million reads online.
CUPID'S MATCH is published and in stores now!
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It happens in slow motion.
Have you ever thought about piercing yourself with the black cupid arrow, Lila?
The arrow slices through the air towards me.
Turning yourself into one of us?
The tip glints, black, in the dim light.
And something cold and dark rises inside. The blood in my veins turns to shadow.
Darkness.
I will bring the darkness.
I breathe in; a long, cool breath.
But then...
No.
I reach out.
And it stops mid hurtle. The tip a breath away from my face. My fingers curled around the arrow.
The moment seems to stretch an eternity. Around me all is still. But I can hear my breathing, and my heart pumping blood through my body. Somewhere close - outside maybe - I'm aware of a white light.
And then everything speeds up.
"Lila...what the...?" James is on his feet behind the table – coffee mug toppled on it side. I jerk my head to him.
There's a flicker of movement behind the bar and I turn back to the bartender. His dark eyes fix on mine, and, as though seeing something behind them that scares him – he lowers his bow and takes a step back.
My gaze darts to the clock, hung above the dusty wooden bar. It's ten.
"I don't have time for this," I say.
I meet James's widened eyes once more. Behind him, through the murky window, an ethereal white glow emanates from the ocean. It's the same light that shrouded the beach when we fought the battle against Valentine.
The Ferry of the Dead is here.
"Lila, I'm sor –"
"Stay where you are," I say.
I slip the black cupid arrow into my quiver, then turn and run out of the bar into the night.
There is shouting ahead. My pulse races as my converse pound against the road. And as I sprint across the parking lot I try to focus on what's to come – the Arrows, the Furies, the fight ahead, Valentine. I have to. I can't let myself analyze what just happened.
I was almost hit by a cupid arrow. And, for a moment, I'd wanted to be.
Breathing hard I reach the wooden steps leading down to the beach. The rolling waves are painted silver by the light originating from the large, ghostly ship – anchored about twenty feet from the shore. I don't see the Furies, or the Arrows, or Cupid and Cal.
