Signs of Cupidity (Heart Hassle Book 1)

“Wake up.”

   My eyes snap open and I jerk my neck upright, only to get a painful tinge from the awkward way my head has been lolled to the side all night.

         I look up and see Sylred, kneeling in front of me. In the early morning light, his blonde hair shines. His brown eyes take in my condition and his lips draw into a grim line. When I try to shift my weight, I realize that someone wrapped a heavy fur pelt over me sometime in the night. Probably Sylred, but Evert is a possibility, too.

Sylred moves it off of me and then reaches to his leather belt and pulls out a knife. I automatically flinch back. Sylred catches the movement and pauses, his brown eyes softening. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

   I try to swallow, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth. “I’m already hurt,” I croak out. I’m still clutching the piece of bark that I pried off, and I hide it under my arm.

   Sylred grabs a part of the rope and starts cutting through my bindings. As soon as his blade is through it, he starts unwrapping me.

   “What are you doing, Syl?” Evert asks, coming up behind him.

   Sylred shakes his head to himself. “This is not how we treat females.”

   “No shit,” Evert replies, crossing his arms in front of him. “Where’d dickhead go?”

  “Hunting.”

   “Good,” he says with a nod. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  Sylred sighs. “Yeah.”

   Evert smirks. “Well, I’m in. You know I’ll take every opportunity to piss him off.”

   Sylred doesn’t reply to that, but finishes releasing me. Then he gathers me in his arms as if I weigh nothing and carries me toward the cabin. The sudden pull of gravity on my hurt wing causes me to cry out.

   “Come on, Evert. You can heal her.”

   “Why do you think I came out here in the first place?”

Sylred carries me inside the cabin. The inside is lighter than I thought it would be, with sunlight streaming in through the windows. The fireplace is crackling with flames and there are pieces of handmade furniture scattered around the large room. There’s a large pot of water on a wooden table, three chairs in different styles, and a large bench in front of the fire.

There are also fur pelts scattered around the wooden floor. At the far end of the room are three doors made with the same leaves and branches as the front entry.

   I’m amazed at everything that has so clearly been made by their hands, because it is both rough and yet perfect in its simplicity.

           Carefully, Sylred sets me down on the fur pelt that sits in front of the fire. I grimace at the movement, but Sylred doesn’t let me go, because I’d surely be too weak to hold myself upright. Instead, he keeps his arm around my back, under my wings, and lets me lean on him.

    “Are those your rooms?”

   “Why?” Evert says, coming up to my other side. “Already wanting to visit us in our bedrooms, Scratch?”

   “No. You wish,” I scoff like it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

I try to shift my arm, but the movement brings me a hiss of pain that radiates up my arm.

   “I think you dislocated your shoulder,” Sylred says. “And we need to take that arrow out of your wing.”

  I groan. “Okay.”

   Sylred looks at Evert and nods once. I feel Evert come up behind me and take hold of my injured wing. I close my eyes tight.

           “Okay, Scratch,” Evert says. “One…two…” without finishing his count, he snaps the end of the arrow and then rips it cleanly from my wing.

               I cry out in pain and bite my lip so hard that I draw blood. I can taste its coppery tang as it fills my mouth. I realize that it’s the first thing I’ve ever tasted.

All I can focus on is the blood in my mouth and the stabbing pain in my wing, but after a few moments, I feel a strong hand rubbing the back of my neck. Up and down, down and up. It’s steady and sure and makes me shiver in pleasure. I try to focus on the movement of that hand instead of the angry pain in my wing.

   When I open my eyes, I realize that I’m crying again. It seems like I’ve done way too much of that since becoming physical. Being alive is brutal.

        Tears slide down my cheeks, and I can feel each one as they trail down my skin. They’re so soft—like wet whispers, and when I lick my bloodied lip again, the taste is now mingled with salt.

   “I need to set her shoulder,” Evert says. “Syl?”

   Sylred braces me in his hold and gives a quick nod.

   “Wait—” I begin, but with one excruciating pop, Evert snaps my shoulder back into place.

            I scream.

              It hurts so horribly bad that my vision bubbles with darkness. I collapse against Sylred, my head lolling to the side. I’m sobbing now. My whole face feels like it’s been filled up with thick, syrupy tears, and my head throbs with them.

   Still, that hand rubs my neck. Up and down, down and up.

When my thundering heart calms, I can hear Sylred whispering in my ear. “There, there. It’s all right. It’s all over.” He croons soothing words to me, his voice soft and kind.

I’m still crying, because I can’t help it. Maybe if I hadn’t been unfeeling for so many decades, I would be tougher. But I’ve never felt pain before today and yesterday, and it’s all so overwhelming.

“I’m going to lay you down now so Evert can heal your wounds.”

   Sylred takes extra care with my injured wing as he gently brings my body down so that I’m flush against the fur on the floor. He keeps a hand on my arm and runs his fingers up and down it, continuing his sweet distraction. The pleasure of his touch mixed with the pain of my wounds is almost too much to bear.

          “Gods, I never knew this is what it meant to feel,” I admit in a sob-sodden whisper.

   “What do you mean?” Sylred asks, pausing his ministrations.

  “Feeling. Touching. It’s so…intense.”

   He and Evert exchange a look. They probably think I’ve gone crazy. Maybe I have. I should probably shut up and stop talking, but the sensory overload seems to have unhinged my jaw.

   Evert kneels beside me and touches my wing again. I can’t see him, but I feel a tug on the arrow wound. It’s not pleasant, but it isn’t painful, either. It’s a strange, pulling sensation. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s healing you.”

  “Do I need stitches?”

   Evert chuckles. “I am the Stitch.”

   In a few moments, the tug on my wing fades away, and then he’s moving his hands over the rest of my injured body.

          When he moves in front of me where I can see, I watch with wide eyes as he gently touches every cut and scrape. Everywhere he touches, my skin stitches together, healing completely and leaving only dried blood and bruises behind. My mouth drops open in surprise.

       He pauses when he gets to my hand, which still clutches the piece of bark. “What’s this? Planning on giving us splinters, Scratch?” he asks, his lips twitching.

   “I was hoping I could jam it into Not-First’s eyeball.”

   Evert laughs and moves on to heal my legs. Everywhere he touches, my skin tingles, and I don’t think it’s just from the healing. He touches my face next, and I can feel the scrapes there start to heal with the same tugging feeling as before.

I look up at his face and see his blue eyes lock onto mine. Our faces are only inches apart and I can feel his breath against my cheek. My heart does a somersault when he brings his finger up touch my sore lip. He traces his finger across it, pulling it away bloody. “We can’t have these pretty lips hurt,” he says quietly.

He gently grazes his index finger along my lower lip to heal it, and my eyes flutter closed at the intimate contact. I feel it stitching together even as he continues to trace his finger across my mouth. And then, I’m embarrassed to admit that a moan slips out of me.

Yeah, a moan. I can’t help it. His touch feels amazing. If he can do that to me with a single finger, just imagine what the rest of him can do.

   “Enough, Evert,” Sylred says. You know, because I’m the enemy, and all that.

   Suddenly Evert’s finger is gone and I open my eyes with a frown. “No, not enough, Evert,” I counter.

   Evert laughs and sits back on his heels. “Maybe you really are a demon,” he says, his eyes studying my face. “A too-beautiful, too-tempting demon enchantress, sent here to ruin us once and for all.”

   Again with the demon talk. It really kills the mood. But I’ll use it, if I have to. I lick my bottom lip slowly, watching with satisfaction as Evert’s gaze follows the movement.

           “If I were, would you let me? Ruin you?” I ask quietly.

        I know exactly what I’m doing. My seductive tone, my suggestive words. I’m a cupid, after all. I pretty much specialize in lusty language. You better believe I’m going to use that to my advantage, too.

   Evert grimaces and looks over at Sylred. “This is a test from the gods. I haven’t seen a female in five years and this is what lands on our island? Tell me you aren’t thinking the same thing.”

  Sylred glares at him.

“Fine, fine,” Evert waves a hand at him. “I’ll go get water. You watch her,” Evert says. “And good luck with that,” he adds with a chuckle.

   Evert stands and walks out the door. My lips are still tingling from his touch, and I also notice how much better the rest of my body feels, too. The pain from the arrow in my wing is completely gone. As for the rest of my injuries, all that’s left is the aches in my muscles and joints, and the painful pulse of my re-set shoulder.

I try to sit up, and my head swims with the effort. I groan, clenching my eyes closed tight. “Easy,” Sylred says, grabbing my arm again. “Let me help you.”

   After a few seconds, my head stops spinning. I look down at my bloodied and dirty body, but even under all that grime, I can see that every scrape and scratch that I had are now healed over. “Wow,” I breathe. Even my lip is smooth and unhurt.

   “Yeah, that’s why his nickname is Stitch.”

  “He can heal anything?”

   “No, he can just stitch flesh back together again. But he does it so well now that he doesn’t even leave behind a scar. His magic couldn’t have healed your shoulder, though. That’s why he had to pop it back into place himself.”

   “Do all of you have powers?”

   Sylred nods slowly, but doesn’t elaborate. I have a feeling he doesn’t want to tell me, but I ask anyway. “What can you do?”

   He doesn’t answer me. I guess they don’t want the maybe-enemy knowing their secrets.

   “So you and Third, I mean Evert, you’re the nice ones.”

   This forces the corner of his lips to tilt up. “The nice ones?”

   I nod and wave my hand to the direction of the doors. “Yeah. Not-First is the jerk of the group.”

   Sylred laughs despite himself, and it lights up his whole face, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. It’s incredibly sexy. “Do you think you can stand?”

   I have no idea. “Yeah, of course I can stand.”

   With a grip on my waist, he helps lift me to my feet. I wobble, but he steadies me. I can feel the gentleness of his touch through my dress. It’s making me all sorts of worked up. Good gods I’m sensitive. “Okay?”

   No. I’ll fall down soon, that’s for sure. “Yep, yes. Definitely.”

   He smiles and lets go, and I’m proud of myself when I manage to keep standing on my own. For about two seconds.

   Sylred catches me before my knees hit the floor. “Whoa, there.”

   I huff out in frustration but he just swoops me into his arms in one fluid motion. “Yeah, this is better for sure. I should just hire a professional carrier. Then I won’t have to worry about sore muscles or tripping or anything,” I say.

              He chuckles, and the eye crinkle returns. Gods, who knew crinkles could be so charming?

     “It’s not just standing, I’m terrible at running, too. I’ve never had to stand before yesterday, though. I can’t believe I was able to run away as far as I did. But when I jumped through the window, that was probably my limit,” I explain, because word vomit is a real medical condition.

   Sylred stares at me incredulously. “…What?”

   I snap my mouth closed. I need to get a grip on my runaway tongue. I try to think of some way to lie or distract him from this conversation, and for once, my mouth actually helps me out when I blurt, “Hey! What color are my eyebrows?”

He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to keep the random sentences from bobbing inside his skull. “Umm…brown?” he answers like it’s a question.

“Huh,” I say thoughtfully. I always figured I’d be a flirty blonde-browed girl. But I can work with brunette. “Okay, what about my eyes?”

He blinks a couple of times as he stares. “Bluish? …With some gray?” Again, he answers like he’s unsure.

“Okay so like a coy blue,” I say, envisioning it. “Not like an in-your-face-blue, not a flashy or a obnoxious blue, but like a cool, demure, understated blue. The kind of blue you have to really look at to see. I can dig that.”

“Umm, Okay.”

I’m suddenly reminded that he’s still holding me in his arms, and my hands are still wrapped around his neck. We’re incredibly close, and his arms feels so solid and perfect wrapped around me that I have the strongest urge to lean forward and kiss him.

         I think he must sense this change in me, because he looks down at my lips and swallows. Right then, the front door swings open and Evert reappears.

           He stops and smirks when he sees Sylred holding me. “Well, well, well. Isn’t this interesting?”

   “Shut up,” Sylred says, quickly turning his head away from me. “She can barely stand.”

   Evert raises a mocking brow. “Sure. Win her over with that nice-guy shit later.”

“So you are the nice ones,” I say.

“He is. I’m not,” Evert says. “Now come on, I filled the tub with water.”

   Sylred casts me one more look before turning and carrying me out of the house. We follow behind Evert, but we don’t go far. At the back of the house is a garden and at the edge of it sits a wooden tub. Sylred sets me down right beside it, but keeps a steadying hand on my arm so I don’t topple.

   “Time to get clean, Scratch,” Evert tells me, passing over a bar of soap. It looks like it’s made of animal fat and has pieces of plants inside it to make it smell nice. “I’ll trade you for it,” he says, motioning to the piece of bark that I’m still holding.

             I don’t want to give it up, but I know I really have no choice, so I grudgingly pass it over.

“There’s a good little prisoner.”

I roll my eyes and then study the soap. “Do you guys make everything by hand?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Evert answers simply.

   “Will you be all right on your own?” Sylred asks.

I have no idea. “Absolutely.”

“Right. We’ll just give you some privacy, then,” Sylred says, letting go of me like he can’t wait to get away. “Holler if you need us. We won’t be far.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, and Scratch?” Evert says over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t even think about trying to get away. We don’t know why you’re here, but we will figure it out. Ronak is out there hunting, and believe me, you don’t want that asshole to find you trying to run away. If you try it, I might just let him have you.”

They both walk off without waiting for me to reply.

   I let out the nervous breath in my chest. “Okay then,” I say to myself.

         I ignore the hot and cold sexy tail men and study the tub full of water. Time for my very first bath. I’m almost tingling with anticipation. I’ve watched a lot of people take baths over the years, and it always seemed so awesome.

           I’m gonna rock this bath. I’m gonna take the best bath this realm has ever seen. Because I’m real, and because I freaking can, dammit.