Joy In Love (Daughters of Cupid Book 1)

by Eliza Chambers

  Outside the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his horns tilted in my direction, Jace said, “Going somewhere?”

  “Of course not.” I moved to lean against the wall beside him. “I believed some privacy was in order.”

  Jace made a noise in his throat and, grabbing me by the arm, he yanked me down the hall. I jerked back my arm. “I can walk on my own, thank you.”

  He gave me a look. I didn’t blame him for not trusting me. Then he heaved a great sigh. “Try anything, and you’ll be sorry.”

  “Oh, I already am,” I muttered as we went down the hall. I glanced back as we got to the elevator. Death waited as I waited, and it wouldn’t wait long. How much more time could Marisol afford to borrow at Damen’s expense?

  Then the weariness of the day took its toll, and I could only imagine the burden Damen had carried all these years into the darkness, as a demigod, as a man who fought to hold onto a lost treasure.

  20

  The pink walls of my room mocked me. Or maybe it was those chubby cherubs with arrows pointing ahead. For the past two days, I hadn’t left my room. I’d been too cold, and too tired. I hadn’t realized how much of myself I’d given to Marisol or the drain it would put on me. Exhausted, I lay in bed, counting the cherubs and napping.

  Time had a funny way of slipping past you. We all have a short window in the world in which to serve our creature’s purpose. Some of us embraced that calling, while others chose to ignore it. Either way, it didn’t change the amount of time we’re given. Love and life had an unhappy marriage, neither one of them ever able to stand on equal ground. One always gave more than the other.

  I never really thought about it before. I always used to think about how selfish love could be. How selfish my father was, or wasn’t? He loved my mother, but he also loved the mothers of my sisters. He spent such a short time with each one and moved on. He remained faithful to those women while he was with them. He married them in the eyes of God, and I wondered what his immortal wife Psyche thought about him with those humans before he came back and settled with her.

  Psyche didn’t like any of them. Not her. Not her sisters.

  As if it were their fault, their father had created them to spite the immortal goddess.

  Maybe her father had.

  She and her sisters were innocent.

  Or were they?

  Everyone made mistakes. Whether they did them out of love or not, consequences always came. It was the price required to right the wrong. Some took several lifetimes to fix, and it made me wonder how many more Damen was prepared to endure for Marisol’s sake.

  Around my heart, the dark thread loosened, and my heart stretched to fill in the gap.

  A little bit hungry and feeling paranoid with all the cherubs surrounding me, I pulled myself together and headed to the kitchen. At least there, I’d find Agatha’s warm smile and maybe something hot out of the oven.

  The woman was a master in the kitchen. How many years had Damen kept her there, learning her tricks and perfecting her culinary skills?

  She told me so little, but when she did, it was with joy. No matter the time she had been given, Agatha was a rare gem, filled with contentment and good tidings as I found her baking and humming an Italian tune I didn’t recognize. I never took Agatha for a lover of opera.

  She wiped her hands and motioned for me to come in. “Ah, she wakes! Come. You must be starving!”

  “I missed your trays.”

  She gave me a sly smile. “It brought you from your room. Oh, you must have been so exhausted.”

  “You know what happened?”

  She tilted her hand, putting on an oven mitt. The entire kitchen smelled of lemon, cinnamon, and vanilla. “Jace told me a little.”

  “I’m surprised he told you anything.” I leaned against the counter, peering into a mixing bowl of batter. About to put my finger in, Agatha took the bowl away.

  “Some men have a softness.” She wiggled her brows.

  It made me laugh.

  Shehad on a black skirt today and a white shirt with a red checkered apron covering it as she put dollops of batter on a cookie tray. “Sit, I will make you a sandwich in a minute.”

  “You are the best.” I did as she said.

  “Count De Santis has requested supper in his quarters this evening.”

  Another night of dining with Jace and Agatha. However, this meant Damen wasn’t going to the hospital or wherever else he went in the evenings.

  “Do you know where he goes?” I asked.

  Agatha turned and put the cookie trays in the oven. “It is not my place to know. I do not ask. Nor should you have tried to follow him.”

  And there it was, the twinkle of motherly concern in Agatha’s eye along with the sternness in her voice. I wish I had known my mother. Cherish, and my sisters, raised me, and I’ll forever be grateful for them and love them. However, when I imagined what it might have been like to grow up knowing my mother, I saw Agatha. Her rounded face was flushed from the heat of the oven, and although when I first met her she seemed so unyielding, like everything else in this house, her heart showed through.

  “He’s been keeping her alive.” No human could have survived this long at this age.

  “Who?”

  “Marisol.”

  We all have an expiration date in life. Some of us sooner rather than later. I feared my expiration date might have gotten moved up to match Marisol’s.

  “If I were you, I think I would be worried more about the wedding date. It’s coming up quick. A few days, isn’t it?” Agatha went about in the kitchen, wiping the counter after she placed a batch of Italian cookies in the oven.

  “If there is a wedding.” I picked up a cookie and nibbled on it from the cooling rack. It could be my last one before I took the dive to see Tartarus.

  Agatha placed her hand on her hip. “It will all be for naught if she doesn’t.”

  That made me sit up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

  What hadn’t Agatha told me?

  The older woman gave me a scandalous look, then sighed. She moved closer to the counter, leaned a bit to see Jace out in the hallway flipping through a magazine. She tilted her head and moved over by the sink. She turned on the faucet. “It’s all she ever wanted. For him to be happy, sure. But all she wanted was love.”

  “She has love. Damen loves her,” I said, the words cutting me.

  “Si. But it’s not their love she was after.”

  “What other kind of…”

  Agatha turned off the faucet, wiped down the sink.

  How many lifetimes had Damen kept her alive? How many lifetimes had it taken her to find the one who made her heart want to burst with joy? “Oh, Damen,” I murmured, moving away from Agatha.

  “Does Arthur know?” I don’t know why it mattered for me to want to know. I did. My heart ached. More for Damen than Arthur. That’s what love does, it makes you want to take away others’ pain as I wanted to eliminate it for Damen. As he wanted to take it from Marisol.

  Agatha pressed her lips together tightly. I’d gotten as much from her as I could. I understood by the look in her eyes, the spell Damen held over her, to keep her from revealing anything else.

  “I need to go back to that hospital.” I clanged some of the baking sheets helping to dry them off.

  “You can’t jump in the pool again.”

  “There has to be another way out of here,” I said.

  Agatha checked on her cookies, baking in the oven. A waft of heat escaped the oven with the door down, and her face turned flush. “Why would you wish to go back? You could have died jumping in that portal as you did.”

  “I need to see Marisol again. Please, Agatha. I think I might have a solution to all of this. I don’t want to go to the pit of Tartarus.”

  Agatha grabbed a hot pad from the counter. “It’s not my place. I can’t help you.”

  She moved over to a cabinet, pushed through the spices on the she
lf and pulled out a bottle. She tucked it in her apron. As the cookies came out, she kept an eye on Jace and sprinkled the powder on two of the cookies.

  Out in the hall, Jace flipped another page of his magazine.

  “There will be no excuses to go to the hospital with a healer in the house. However, if the healer is not feeling well, who will take care of him?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Agatha, you’re a saint.”

  “No, just the housekeeper.”

  I waited until lunch, and Jace had finished his soup to pick up the special cookies Agatha had prepared. Since Damen seemed to like to go to the hospital in the evenings and did who knows what with his daylight hours, I had a small window of opportunity for the afternoon.

  When I tried to offer the satyr a cookie, he ignored me. I cleared my throat, and he didn’t flutter a lash.

  “Fine. If you don’t want it. I’ll eat it myself.”

  That got his attention. “Go right ahead.”

  Caught in my own bluff, I took a bite of the cookie, spun on my heel, and walked away. As soon as I was out of sight, I spit the cookie out.

  “That bad?” Damen’s voice made me jump. “Usually, Agatha makes the best Italian cookies.” He plucked it from my hand. “They’re my favorite.”

  He brought it up to his nose, sniffed it like it was a cigar, and his eyes turned dark. “Perhaps a little too much conium maculatum in this one for my taste.” He lowered the cookie. “Although your attempt is dually noted.”

  Standing there with a piece of cookie spit in one hand and Damen staring at me with those blue-rimmed eyes caused the tendril of darkness around my heart to turn cold.

  “I’ll have to have a word with Agatha.”

  “It’s not her fault. I wanted to bake. I like to bake.” I stammered on. “I wanted to make you happy. I mean—I saw how sad you were at the hospital and you saved me. I wanted to—to thank you. I am sorry the cookie didn’t come out right. I’ve never made this kind before.”

  Amusement danced in his eyes. “I think they came out precisely as you intended.” He leaned close to me, sending a flush of heat through my veins at his nearness. “I would hate very much to see you in one of those hospital beds along with Marisol, Cherub.”

  Did he mean it? Did he care?

  I wanted him to lean closer. My gaze fell to his lips. Damen De Santis had the most irresistible lips a man could have. Not as if I go around staring at men’s mouths or thinking what I thought as his mouth inched closer to mine…

  One more kiss. My lashes started to flutter down, and I leaned toward Damen.

  He cleared his throat. I blinked, and Damen pulled away.

  “Sierra will be arriving shortly with dresses to fit you for the wedding. You’ll go as my guest. Be sure to choose wisely. Perhaps something in navy or black. I hear Tartarus has a fondness for both.”

  His words were a bitter insult to my soul. I pulled back my shoulders, determined not to let him nettle me. I would march into the pit of Tartarus in nothing more than what God gave me if I thought it would spite him in return. That actually wasn’t a bad idea, if only for the impropriety of it all. I could hear Hope gasping at such a notion, and it made me laugh.

  Damen’s brows lifted.

  I wasn’t as brave as I appeared. Inside, my heart trembled. “And what color do you favor?”

  “For you or in general?”

  I flirted with danger, but I had nothing to lose. “Whichever you prefer.”

  He smiled. A wicked glint flashed in the blue of his eyes.

  My belly gave a little flip. This man was going to be the death of me. Why, then, did I seem to find him more attractive than ever? Love was not fair. It did not judge, and sometimes you had no choice in the way your heart felt. Which was why we are all born with brains that send a signal to us to warn us when we’re about to do stupid things—in love or not. And a three strong conscience of sisters who gratefully entered my thoughts from time to time.

  The last thing in the world I ever wanted to happen was to lose my family and lose what I loved most. However, I almost felt the choice was no longer in my hands. I couldn’t change what had happened or what would happen. My destiny had been written from the day my father, Cupid, met my mother.

  Hope was with me, and Faith. I felt my sisters’ love filling me back up with joy. And Cherish.

  “I believe you would look quite fetching in anything, but your natural state would be most becoming.”

  “Natural?”

  “Very much so.”

  My face turned hot.

  “You shouldn’t play with fire unless you are prepared to deal with the heat.” Damen ran his thumb over my lower lip. “I have to admit I rather like you like this—speechless—flushed.”

  He swept his hand down my neck, and I closed my eyes. His fingertips brushed my earlobe and trailed down my shoulder. I bit my lip.

  Then his touch was gone.

  I opened my eyes, curious and confused.

  Damen walked past me. “That particular shade of red is growing on me.”

  I listened long after he left. Nothing. Only the beating of my heart answered to my ears.

  I was in trouble.

  I’d fallen in love with a man. No, not a man. A half-god with an affection for darkness, whose stubborn unwillingness to concede gave up one heart for the one I’d bared before him.

  Joy…

  No, Hope. Damen won. He wanted Marisol. Who was I to keep him from that happiness?

  And in the back of my mind, I heard Hope sigh.

  21

  There was a certain tension in the house. Agatha had been baking up a storm. Jace was around every corner and followed me in every room. It both annoyed me and amused me. At least he hadn’t tried to drug me again. If only I had gotten my wings.

  I sighed, pacing my room, unable to sleep. Even in the glow of the moon through my window, the walls were an eerie pink, and I could swear those cherubs had roving eyes. I glared right back at them, stopped, and thought I must have gone crazy. Wallpaper didn’t have eyes, even printed cherubs. Or did they?

  I was in the house of a demigod, wasn’t I? Anything was possible.

  “Or you’re going crazy,” I muttered, rubbing the spot of my chest that caused the greatest discomfort. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t read. I wasn't hungry. Who could be with Agatha making dozens upon dozens of lemon and raspberry cookies and drizzling them with chocolate?

  It was this room. I couldn’t stand to be in it one more night.

  And one night was all I had left.

  The wedding was tomorrow.

  Marisol was out of the hospital, and the wedding was scheduled to go on. I couldn’t say I blamed her. She had to know her time was limited. And what of Arthur? I felt for him. To have loved and lost someone all in a short time was rough for anyone. I would hate to see his heartbreak over this.

  I think of Cupid’s arrow.

  It better have been worth it.

  Isn’t love always?

  I don’t want to talk about love, Faith.

  Then maybe you should go talk to you-know-who.

  What are you waiting for?

  Fine. I had nothing left to lose. After my little debacle with the cookie, Damen trusted me even less. He kept giving me strange glares all through dinner.

  Slowly, I opened my door and peered out. No Jace.

  Where would Damen be at this time? It was too late for the gardens. I didn’t think I could make it out there. I was sure Jace or Damen had some kind of trace on me.

  And then I figured out I knew where he was. Or if he wasn’t, he would be.

  Mustering up my courage, I softly shut the door to the freaky pink cherubs and headed down the hall.

  I was either about to save the world or head to my doom. Three little words.

  That was all it was going to take.

  And the closer I got to the stairs, my internal Damen GPS pointed up.

  What was the worst that could happen?


  “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” Damen stood looking out the window. The morning had started to chase away the gloom of night, and the clouds had rimmed with a silver outline.

  “You were quiet at supper.”

  His back stiffened. “You expected conversation? I’ve been too lenient with you. You forget your place here.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood in the middle of the room, the tapestry of Damen’s grandmother staring down at me. I clasped my hands and ignored the woven woman. She had nothing on the army of cherubs in my room. Intimidating as that tapestry hung.

  “Apologies? Now?” He continued to look out the window.

  “I know you’re hurting. I can feel it.” I covered my heart with my hand, pressing against the ache there.

  “If you are feeling pain, Cherub, that is because you inflicted it upon us both.” I saw his reflection in the window. He drew back his shoulders, and I moved closer.

  “It hurts to lose someone. I’m sorry for your loss. Believe me when I say I would take away your grief if I could.” And I would. As much as it pained my heart, I tried to silently relay my feelings to him. If only he would look back at me, in my eyes. He would see. I tried hard for the thread pulsing around my heart to convey this for me.

  Damen turned. His eyes were almost completely blue. My lips parted, letting out a small gasp.

  “You see what you have done?” He walked toward me, deliberately, his eyes intense and a beautiful hue of royal blue. The power in that stare, causing me to take a step back as he neared. “What poison do you possess, little cherub?”

  “I have no poison.”

  “All this time, I figured it had been the arrow, but the true poison is within your DNA. I have lived hundreds of years and allowed my judgment to fail me. What I saw as a harmless little love angel has a deadly bite indeed.”

  Anger and bitterness filled his words and infiltrated the air around us. It grew darker, or maybe the sun brightening had cast the room into shadows. I felt cold and hot at the same time, trying to control the hurt and rage rising. Those were fighting words. I wasn’t made to fight. I was made for love. And in love, I would march into the midst of the battle and save him from his own anguish.