Sheer Cupidity: A Standalone Cupidity Romance (Heart Hassle Book 5)

LEX

It takes a surprisingly long time to get to the other island.

Maybe I’m just a terrible judge of both direction and distance, but I swear it seems like it’s floating further away from us no matter how long we head toward it.

It’s not until after the sun has bloomed fully in the sky, like a flower opening its petals, that we finally reach it. Its landscape is all jungle, the greenery so thick that we can’t even see the ground from our bird’s eye view. Yet smack dab in the middle of all that lush plant life is a cluster of three volcanoes, one of which has continuous lava flowing out of it like a glowing river before casting off the side of the island in a fiery waterfall.

Belren and I touch down in the only visible city here—one with roads of tar and houses made of matte black rock. I’ve never been to this particular island before, so I’m not sure what to expect. “How are you feeling?” I ask the moment our incorporeal forms come into contact with the ground.

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve asked me that every minute since we left.”

“Well, that’s an exaggeration. I actually asked you once every ten minutes, which I think is a very reasonable time frame, since we’re trying to make sure you don’t get plucked like a stray eyebrow hair and get sent with memory loss back to Ghost Island,” I say snappishly.

Belren chuckles. “You’re adorable when you get worked up.”

I sniff, trying to pretend like him calling me adorable doesn’t affect me at all. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I feel fine, Pinky. Promise.” He tries to tap my quiver, but his hand goes through it. “Muck’s working great.”

I can’t exactly let out a breath of relief, but I nod, accepting his answer, just as loud music coming straight from the city pulls my attention away. Looking around, I realize that we’ve arrived during some sort of festival where fire sprites are busy juggling flaming balls in the street while others dance to pipe music and drink straight from a pond of churning lava.

“Now there’s a drink that’s sure to burn going down,” I quip.

“Hmm, that was better,” Belren says, pinching his thumb and pointer finger together. “Just slightly, but still progress.”

Indignation rises up. “That was a good joke.”

“It was better, yes.”

This male.

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from him and watch the fire sprites, getting caught up in whatever it is that they’re celebrating. The thing about fae is, they’ll come up with a holiday for anything because they simply love to party. I bet they’d appreciate a good theme.

The street is lined with black rock houses, but everyone seems to be out here on the street to participate in the revelry. Volcanic rock on the side of the road is being used as seats and tables, dancers are spinning right in the middle of the street, and musicians walk up and down it to liven up the crowd.

There must be at least two hundred sprites around, their collective voices mingling with the music and laughter while they spin their flames.

“Crazy fae,” Belren mutters.

The two of us continue to walk around and simply take in all the sights, but despite where I keep my gaze, my attention is always on him. I continuously watch Belren from the corner of my eye, afraid that if I get distracted for even a second, he’ll disappear.

“No ghosts.”

My eyes scan the city. “You’re right. I don’t see any here.”

“Thank gods for that. Ghosts are the worst.”

“You’re a ghost,” I point out.

He gives me a look. “Yes, but I’m the exception.”

I can’t argue that.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him.

Before he can answer, two sprite children come barreling down the street, kicking a fireball between them. I squeak in alarm as they race right through me. It doesn’t hurt—I don’t feel a thing, actually, but it’s still incredibly off-putting.

Belren gives me an amused look. “Now you see why I hate it when Stag does it.”

“Are you going to answer my question?” I ask, though I make sure to move off the street, bringing us further away from the party, toward some larger buildings up ahead.

“I feel great,” he says, striding along beside me.

“Really?” I can’t help the concern that laces my question.

“Relax. I told you the muck was going to work, didn’t I?”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised you were able to make it all the way to this island,” I tell him. “But I want you to tell me if you start to feel the pull. Maybe if we can hurry straight back to your island, we can stop you from being affected, or at the very least we can—”

Belren cuts me off abruptly by placing his hand over my mouth.

Why do people keep doing that to me?

My words stutter, and though I can’t feel any touch, it still startles me enough to make me forget what I was saying.

“Huh. I’m surprised that actually worked,” he says before dropping his hand. “Good to know.”

“Why did you do that?” I ask with bewilderment.

“Because. You need to learn to loosen up a bit and stop worrying so much, Pinky.”

“It’s Lex,” I tell him again. “And I’m not worrying. I’m simply trying to talk about what might happen if this goes wrong.”

“Right. Worrying.”

I let out a disgruntled noise. “Well, someone needs to worry between us, and it obviously isn’t going to be you.”

“You’re right, it’s not going to be me,” he replies. “And do you know why?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“Because worrying sucks the life right out of you. Worrying about something that might happen means you’re giving that scenario all of your time and energy and thought rather than simply enjoying the moment.” He leans down so that we’re face to face, his silver eyes so bright that they don’t even look translucent. “We don’t know how many moments we have, Pinky. For all we know, this could be the very last one. So enjoy it.”

His eyes flick between mine as his words sink in, but I give a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, but no.”

He rears back in surprise. “No?”

I shake my head. “That’s nice that you can simply enjoy the moment, but I don’t operate that way.”

“And how do you operate?”

I fling my hands up in frustration. “I worry. And those worries help me to plan. To prioritize. If I worry about the things that might occur, it helps me be prepared for every scenario.”

He stares at me like I’m insane. “That’s exhausting. You can’t possibly enjoy yourself if you’re constantly thinking like that.”

I sniff. “I’ll have you know that I take great enjoyment from planning worst case scenarios. It keeps me calm.”

Belren snorts out a laugh. “Now I see why the gods brought me to you.”

Caught off guard by his statement, I tilt my head. “Why?”

“Because you’re strung tighter than that twisted bun on your head,” he says, nodding toward my hair. “I take back what I said about you not being off to a great start with your murder spree. Someone as crazy as you is probably great at it with all of your extra scenario planning.”

“Thank you,” I say automatically, but then I falter, because I’m not sure that was a good thing. Based on the way he chuckles, I’d say probably not.

Sighing, I whip around and start stalking away.

“Where are you going?”

“To find a clothes shop.”

He easily catches up to me. “Why?”

“Because I’ll need to get a proper fae outfit for when I leave the Veil. These are human clothes, after all. I stand out too much.”

He looks me up and down. “You do. Though I can’t say it’s the clothes’ fault. You stand out all on your own.”

I frown as we pass by a fire sprite with burning hair that flows down to her butt, sending sparks off as she walks. “Was that an insult?”

All amusement drains away from his face, and something soft in his eyes makes my throat go tight. “No, Pinky. It definitely wasn’t.”

“Oh.” My voice is suddenly small, unsure, like a tiny step taken on unfamiliar terrain.

I need to stay practical and responsible, but the truth is, my mind is spinning. It has been since he first appeared.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, just to get us back on steady ground where things make sense.

Belren groans. “Pinky.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, just as my eyes latch onto some larger buildings ahead with wooden signs hanging in front, words burned into them to denote what it is.

“There’s the shops.”

“Mmm, yes, let’s have you go try some things on.”

I stop in my tracks. “Umm, no. You wait here.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

Even with the festival happening just down the street, there are still sprites going in and out of other shops, but I hesitate. “Will you be alright if I go inside for a minute?”

“We were further away than this on our way here. I’d say the muck has a decent orbit.”

I nod, but I still don’t go inside, hands itching to wring together. I don’t want to say out loud that it makes me nervous to let him out of my sight.

He seems to read my mind, because his gaze softens. “I’ll be right here when you get out.”

I hesitate for a moment longer. “Alright. I’ll be quick. Stay right here.”

He salutes and makes a point to plant his feet.

With one last lingering glance to make sure he’s not going to suddenly disappear on me, I pop out of the Veil and stride for the door of the shop and open it. A bell jingles above me just before the heavy door swings closed at my back.

Flickering light surrounds me the moment the sunlight is closed out, and I look around the space. Instead of windows, the shop has inlets in all the walls, and inside each small crevice are small orbs of fire. There are too many of them to count, but the glow they give off is soft and welcoming.

It’s also sweltering.

I’m sweating before I even take three steps inside. “Oh, a visitorrrrr!” someone calls. I look up as an aged fire sprite comes from somewhere in the back, rounding a counter. She comes right up to me, back slightly stooped and two matching wrinkled brackets on both of her cheeks.

The female looks me up and down, red hair practically smoldering from where it hangs over her shoulder. “Well. You’re not a sprite.”

She seems very disappointed by that realization as she eyes my red feathered wings. I’ve learned that when visiting the different islands in the fae realm, you have to be careful as some of them are incredibly wary of outsiders. I don’t blame them, either. From the research I’ve done, there’s been a violent history between the different kinds of fae, often ending in bloody battles for territory.

“I’m not, but I can’t help but admire your work,” I praise with a smile. “I would love to purchase something you’ve made.”

I’ve also learned that most fae like to be flattered.

The fire sprite doesn’t smile, but she does lose an inch of the wary hostility she’d taken on, and trades it for mild annoyance.

She glances over my clothing again. “I can see why. This outfit you wear is horribly ugly.” Her mouth turns down in distaste. “Come.” She turns on her heel and waves me forward. “I have one dress that will fit you.”

My brows pull together as I follow her past rows of neatly hung shirts and pants, skirts and blouses. “Just one?” I ask, waving a hand in front of my overheated face.

She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “Yes. Just one. Is that a problem?”

“No,” I quickly reply.

She huffs and keeps walking while I try to discreetly wipe some sweat off my temple.

We stop in front of a cabinet that she wrenches open, making some of the fire balls behind the door flicker from the rush of air. She grabs something from inside and then shoves it toward me. “There. Go put it on.”

I have to pry it away from my face before I can get a good look at it. “Oh, it’s…”

The fire sprite puts her fists on her hips. “It’s what?”

It’s very red. And sparkly. And has so many panels of the fabric that I’m not even sure which end is up.

I clear my throat. “It’s just… Do you think I could trouble you for some trousers and a simple tunic instead?”

The female scowls. “No, those are all spoken for. Besides, no outsiders come here except for the festival, so you must be here for the festival, yes?”

I blink at her, feeling hotter and hotter by the second—by both the flames surrounding me and her fiery glare. “Oh, umm, yes. Of course.”

She nods and points to the dress in my hands. “This is a fire festival dress. You wear this.”

It’s not a question.

“Okay.”

Pasting on a smile, I walk into the curtained dressing room. I carefully set down my bow and quiver, along with my belt and pouch. Then I yank off my human clothes, my nose wrinkling at the rings of sweat that had already pooled beneath both arms of my blouse. Even my wings feel damp. If I stay in here much longer, I’m going to melt.

I quickly pull on the dress, thankful that it’s at least a bit airier with its open back that fits my wings, but I can’t help but feel incredibly self-conscious. Although, I know that the female isn’t going to budge on letting me try on anything else, and I want to get back to Belren.

“Well?” the female barks from the other side of the curtain.

“Umm, is there a shawl?” I ask hopefully, fanning my face again, though it does absolutely nothing to cool me down.

I hear a harrumph, and that’s all the warning I get before the curtain is wrenched open and she’s standing there scowling at me. “No shawl.” She comes in, invading my space, and spins me around, hands tight on my arms as she looks me over. I feel a few tugs as she adjusts some of the panels beneath my wings before spinning me back around. “There. Fits.”

I glance down, noting the multiple panels of red silky fabric that hang down from the waist, rather than one solid skirt. I’ll definitely have to be careful if a swift wind comes up.

I pick at the bodice, which thankfully, has a bit more structure than the bottom. And I need structure on my top half since I’m quite busty. I glance at myself in the small mirror in the dressing room, though the lighting isn’t the best. Overall, the dress is far more revealing than what I’m used to, the cherry-red fabric swooping around my neck and leaving my arms bare and my cleavage right out in the open. At least my stomach and hips are covered.

The fire sprite holds out her hand. “Pay now. Three coins.”

Her directness continues to take me off guard. “Yes, ma’am.”

I bend down and put on my quiver and belt. Reaching into my pouch, I pay her, placing the coins in her waiting palm. As soon as I do, she lights them up in her hand, making me flinch back. After a few seconds, she closes her fist around them, and the flames choke out. “Real,” she confirms with a grunt, as if she thought I was going to try to give her fake ones.

She bends down to my discarded clothes and drags her finger across them. “I burn these.”

I try to reach for them. “No, wait—”

She doesn’t wait.

In a blink, my old outfit goes up in flames, which not only ruins them beyond repair but also makes the temperature kick up another notch.

Within seconds, my clothes are nothing but a pile of ash on the floor.

The fire sprite nods with pride, as if she just did the gods’ work. “You go now,” she says dismissively, her hand steaming a little as she waves me away.

Without another word, she turns and walks to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a pile of fabric and a curtained-off doorway.

Well.

“Have a nice day,” I call brightly.

It’s always good to end things on a polite note. Especially because I think she would’ve set my hair on fire if I’d paid her in fake coins…and she seemed a bit disappointed that I didn’t.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I make my way out of the stifling clothing shop, the bell jingling behind me as the door shuts. The second I step outside, I take in a huge breath, my body sagging in relief at the fresh air. “Thank goodness,” I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. Sweat begins to cool against my fevered skin, and I make a mental note to make future purchases anywhere else except in a fire sprite’s shop.

“Well…damn. I know I’ve been calling you Pinky, but fuck, you do look good in red. Though if your goal was not to stand out, you severely failed.”

My eyes pop open, finding Belren standing in front of me. And he’s close. His spectral form carries a cool brush of air, like shade beneath a tree that prickles my skin with exhilarating chills, and all I want to do is sway closer.

I feel my throat tighten, heart kicking up a beat, because he’s just so handsome. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he always had silver skin, but his ghostly condition does nothing to take away from his beauty.

For a second, we just watch each other, and it’s like the rest of the street fades away.

He frowns at my continued stare and opens his mouth to say something, but then he stops, eyes dropping down to my lips. My cheeks flush, my stomach flutters, and I have the craziest idea that he’s thinking about kissing me.

But the moment abruptly snaps off like a dry branch when one side of his mouth kicks up and he says, “You’re covered in sweat. Like…an excessive amount. Yet somehow, even that makes you more enticing. Very curious.”

Mortified, I quickly reach up to wipe at my forehead again. “It was very hot in there, and I—” We both seem to freeze at the same moment.

“Oh my gods,” I blurt, sudden realization slapping me in the face. “I can see you.”

I’m not in the Veil, and I can see him.