Joy in Love
Daughters of Cupid Book 1
Eliza Chambers
Joy In Love Copyright © 2020 by Susan Lower writing as Eliza Chambers. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Covers and Cupcakes
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Eliza Chambers
Visit my website at www.ElizaChambers.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: February 2020
Time Glider Books, LLC
Back Cover
Damen De Santis is about to lose the love of his life, no thanks to Cupid’s poisoned arrow. Determined to get the woman he loves back, Damen kidnaps Joy, one of Cupid’s daughters, and holds her hostage in exchange for the one he lost.
Joy should have known better than to run off to Venice for the celebration of masks without her sisters to protect her. De Santis is clearly demented, thinking Joy is some kind of love goddess who can fix all his problems. Forced to play along with his scheme to use her to get his lady love back, Joy finds it difficult not to lose her own heart to a descendant of Chaos.
It will take more than the truth to set Joy free of Damen’s plans. She’ll have to embrace her new powers to persuade Damen to fall in love again. But will she use it to free him from heartbreak or seal the deal on revenge toward Cupid?
.
Love is….
1
My eyes hurt; even the slightest bit of light leaking in through my fluttering eyelids sealed them shut. It felt like little grains of sand floated under my lashes, making them ache and throb behind my eyes, pulsing to my temples. Without a doubt, I was in for one of the worst migraines I’d ever had.
But I hadn’t been drinking, or had I? Trying to remember, I tossed my arm up over my eyes, the barest of light bringing searing pain. Darkness was the only thing that could soothe it.
An angel of light, a demigod by all rights, with a human mother and a primordial god for a sire, I couldn’t keep to the darkness for long.
At the sound of a man’s voice, some of last evening’s events spun together in my head. I held back a groan. Remembering Venice, the memory of the stench of the churning waters was enough to make my head throb harder, and my nose scrunch up.
The man’s voice, a low murmur somewhere off in the distance, lapped in my mind like the waters in the canals. It sounded familiar. Maybe I met him last night?
I tried to pull through the vagueness of my recollections. I’d gone to the Carnevale. My heart beat a little faster as I laid my arm across my eyes. My mask! A quick stab of pain hit my temple and crossed over my left eye to my nose. I bit my lip, as another thought brought me a greater agony.
The man. With dark brooding eyes and broad shoulders, standing on the bridge.
Sorrow and anger wrapped around him in a dark, shrouded blanket. My heart almost broke in two. Dressed for the festivities, in a black hooded cape and a doctor’s mask, his dark eyes penetrated through the crowd.
That I could remember.
One of the gifts I inherited from my father was to sense one’s heart’s desire. Right then, the blackness surrounding him should have been my warning to stay away. I’d been too intrigued, too high on others’ emotions, and his had pulled me forth.
Not entirely human, not entirely my foe—a compulsion to draw closer to him propelled me to the bridge. A strong jawline and sensual lips turned down in a frown. I’d offer to play doctor with him if I thought it would bring out the charming grin I imagined he could have shown me.
A little part of me had thrilled at the prospect, then he looked at me. Darkness whispered. My left eye burst with pain.
How could I have been so stupid?
“You are sure you got the right girl?” a man’s voice, sharper than the other, asked.
“It was like you said. She came right to me. All I had to do was pull her into my embrace, and to the outside world. It looked like a woman swooning for her lover.”
“How will you tell if she is one of his?”
My elder sister, Cherish, warned me before I stepped off the People Mover to stick to my agenda. We parted after the glass bridge. My chest squeezed. By now, my sisters would know I was missing. I wouldn’t panic. They would come for me.
But first, I needed to know where I was and how I’d gotten here. Had I really swooned in some man’s arms?
My mind refused to share any more details. Unsure if I wanted them to know I was awake, I tried to be still. Only, if I could hear my heart hammering in my ears, could they?
“ I know you’re angry, my Lord, but do you really think using the girl will get Marisol back?”
“It was his arrow that poisoned her.”
A soft gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it. No wonder I felt such sorrow and darkness around the man. His true love has died, and someone killed her!
Footsteps drew closer, and a hand brushed away my arm. “I see you have finally decided to join in on our little conversation.”
His voice, velvety smooth and deep baritone, sent goosebumps up my flesh. Opening one eye then the other, I winced at the bright light.
“Jace, get the curtains. Our guest appears to have developed an affliction to the light.”
“Of course.” Someone moved to the side, and the curtains hanging at the tall windows drew closed. A hand took mine and pulled me to a sitting position.
A man with brooding dark eyes and dark wavy hair crouched in front of me. “What is your name?”
“If you don’t know, why am I here?” I licked my lips, as they suddenly felt dry.
He smirked a sharp twist to one side of his lips. I tried not to notice the little zing running like an electric current through the hand he used to hold mine. I pulled it away. The effect on him was not the same for me.
“You’re here, Baby Cherub, because I want you to be.” He snapped his fingers, and another man walked around to hand him a crystal glass filled with clear sparkling liquid. The two were clearly not related. The one the man referred to as Jace, with his dark skin and black pants and shirt, couldn’t easily be found in the cloak of night. He held out the glass.
Tentatively, I took it. Sniffing it, I found a strange scent and handed it back to him. My lips may have been parched, but I’d heard the word poison, and I didn’t think these men had brought me here to be friends.
“Drink. It will cure the pain in your head. You have a headache, don’t you?” His eyes never changed from the flashback in my brief memory. They’re more black than giving in to revealing any color.
“How do you know I have a headache?” I wondered what kind of dark being hid within this human form.
“You’re either more naïve than I figured or stupid because you’re young. The drink will help flush the dark toxins from your body.”
“What are you?” I held the glass, swirling the contents, trying to see if it gave off any kind of rainbow or oiled effect to spot the contamination inside.
“I’m Damen De Santis. Count of Carolingian. You’re in my home, outside of Florence.”
At least I was still in Italy, but I was a long way from Venice. “That’s who you are. I asked what you are.”
“First
, tell me your name.” I glanced over at the tall, dark-skinned servant, his arms crossed as he waited for my answer. Another soft jab afflicted my left eye. I could wait it out to feel better. I didn’t need to swallow any of the liquid at hand, but I licked my lips while I tried to figure out how to get away from these men.
I’d learned to trust my heart, but right now, with the dark toxins muddling my mind, I couldn’t trust it. Everything inside me said to run, while something deeper told me this man needed my help. He wouldn’t hurt me. I was the only one who could complete him.
It stunned me, and it must have shown on my face. He placed his hands over the one I kept holding the glass. “If I wanted to harm you, Cherub, do you not think I would have done so by now?”
I couldn’t stop the twitching in my fingers. He had a point. I couldn’t think or try to contact my sisters with this pain in my temples. I rolled my shoulders back, relief sagging them.
“Drink. Perhaps when you are feeling better, you’ll tell me your name.”
“I take it you’re not about to let me leave here.” I squinted, trying to look into the depths of his eyes, but they tugged at parts of me no one had ever touched. I avoided his gaze, swirled the liquid in the glass, my lips feeling drier, wanting a taste of the liquid within. I wouldn’t take a sip of it even if it was the sweetest ambrosia from Olympus.
“We’ll talk again when you are feeling better. Dinner is in a few hours. Jace, you’ll see our guest upstairs. I believe she’ll enjoy the pink room. I’ll see Agatha prepares a light snack for her in the meantime.”
“The pink room?”
Damen’s smile broadened, a row of white teeth gleamed. “I believe pink best suits you.”
He lifted a dark brow, and my insides went hollow. Whatever Damen De Santis was, he knew something about me, even if he pretended not to know my name.
2
When I put the drink on a coffee table, Jace picked it up. “You’ll want to take this with you. I was able to remove most of the toxins from your body, but the aftereffects can linger for days.”
“You’re a healer?” Given the circumstances, I believed him more muscles than brain. A wink and an offer of his arm made me think I’d underestimated him.
“I heal the sick.” He opened the ornate mahogany doors and led me down a hall. In the back of my mind, a voice screamed for me to turn and run away. Except, I didn’t know where to turn or where to go. As we walked down the long hallway and turned several times, I knew I’d get lost before I’d get free.
“This is a rather large palace.”
Jace paused in front of a door and opened it, revealing pink Victorian wallpaper inside. “Count De Santis will be pleased to know you think his home a palace. I’ll have your snack sent up shortly. Drink the tonic and don’t get any ideas of leaving this room before you’re called to supper. I have no tonics to fix broken bones.”
His eyes, like molten gold, bore into mine. Although I could detect a soft spot in his heart for my plight, he didn’t show enough love for me to confirm I could make him my ally.
“Thank you.” I saluted him with my glass as I stepped into the room. He closed the door behind me, leaving me alone with fat cherubs pointing arrows around the border of the ceiling. A double-heart headboard on the bed, embossed with gold, and paintings of nude gentlemen and ladies on the ceiling similar to the works of Michelangelo greeted me.
On the dressing mirror, my mask hung. White with jade sprayed across the forehead and cheeks, highlighted with gold paint around the eyes and delicate marks at the chin. Bold green lips smudged where the mask cracked, and a piece was missing below. Several pink feathers attached to the temple were also missing, and I touched my head as a stab of pain reminded me, I’m not a guest. I’m a hostage.
Why? What did this man want?
Unless he knew, and he did, who my father was. But how?
I looked in the dressing mirror; my dark brown hair hung over my shoulders in knots and curls. A tiny bruise on my cheek, and my lips appeared dry and the bottom one cracked. My clothes were intact. I still had on my sister’s stola, a length of soft lavender silk draped down from the shoulders and wrapped around my waist. A golden length of cord was tied under my breasts to make me look my part. Somewhere between the bridge and being abducted, I lost my arrow and the bow I carried with it. Not real, for only my father had the ones to strike love, lust, and desire into the souls of mortals.
And with a start, I realized my toes had sunk into the plush carpet.
He’d taken my sandals!
Who steals a girl’s footwear?
I borrowed those from my sister Faith, always the practical one. She’d want the exact same ones back. Count De Santis had better hope she could scour the internet to find them and in her size.
Too annoyed to be scared, I swallowed the contents of the glass, trying to stop from gulping down the entire contents as the thought hit me, I hadn’t intended to drink it!
I dropped the glass.
A coughing spell took over, my throat burned, and my eyes watered. My fault. How could I be so stupid!
Again, Joy! Think!
Hearing the doorknob turn, I whirled around. A middle-aged woman came in carrying a tray. “Oh, my dear!”
She sat the tray on the edge of the bed, took me into hand, pounding on my back until I breathed again.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded, wiping away the tears. I’d live. The tonic had taken my breath away as I tried to stop it from going down the wrong pipe. “We can’t have you dying.”
That was the second time I’d heard someone say they didn’t want me dead. What did Damen De Santis think to gain by holding me hostage?
When I took another breath and used my mouth without hacking, I said, “You do know I’m being forced to stay here, don’t you?”
If there ever were a kinder person, it was the woman in front of me. I could feel the love radiating from her, maternal-like, I recognized it. Or the lack of it, not having had a mother to fuss and cuddle over me in my memories. My heart filled for the three older sisters who spoiled, disciplined, and adored me, with all of us having one thing in common: a father who never stuck around long enough to see us past the age of three.
“I’m Agatha. I run Count De Santis’s household. I’ve brought you a snack to hold you over until supper. You must be famished. Jace worried when you did not wake right away after breakfast and more so when you’d skipped lunch.”
Jace. The bodyguard. Agatha. The housekeeper. It looked as if we would all be on a first-name basis, except for De Santis.
Agatha’s voice was sincere with concern. I almost believed the dark-skinned healer might care. He did, I admonished myself. He was probably afraid he killed me when I didn’t wake up, and the goal was to keep me alive.
“Thank you. I am hungry.”
Agatha’s eyes lit up with approval as she moved the tray to a table by the window. I spied strawberries and cantaloupe. Half a tuna wrap and a large glass of iced tea. Would I seem too ungrateful of a hostage if I told her I preferred it without lemon?
I needed to keep her happy. She was my only hope for information on escaping this place.
“Dinner will be at seven. There are fresh towels in the other room for you to freshen up. I didn’t see your luggage arrive, but you look to be about Marisol’s size. She left a few things here. I’m sure you can borrow some of them.”
“Marisol?” I tilted my head, trying to figure out all this hospitality. I was a hostage, wasn’t I? I had been given a decent room, a meal, and an offer to clean up. What was Damen De Santis up to? Perhaps he thought to get in my father’s good graces by treating me well. Hardly, Eros wasn’t the kind for bribes or making deals. Maybe it was a test? But something deeper inside said whatever it was, I needed to keep my wits about me and find out all I could.
“She lived here until recently. If Count De Santis hasn’t mentioned her to you, I’m sure he will.”
A pang of sorrow
hit me. This was the one De Santis had lost—I couldn’t understand why, but he’d felt a prick of the pain in his heart for this estranged woman. Agatha mourned the loss, too. Her eyes, a mix of blue and brown, swirled so much I placed an arm around her shoulders, not wanting her to cry.
“It’s good you are here,” she whispered. “Count De Santis isn’t at all what he appears. Don’t let him scare you. He needs you.”
And for that bit of information, I hugged Agatha. The woman did not understand how much her words gave me hope. “Needs me for what?”
Agatha opened her mouth, then her eyes flashed, a blink of darkness swept over them, and she pressed her lips together with deep thought.
“Agatha? Please? Help me? I’m desperate. Do you know what it is like to be one place, then wake up in another? I’ve no clue what happened last night? Or was it last night? Or how I ended up here? Why can’t I leave? Why does he need me?” It all rushed out, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. If anyone would help me, my heart said Agatha would.
And my heart and my mind didn’t seem as fuzzy anymore. I touched my temple: the pain had mostly gone, except for the slight sensitivity to touch.
Agatha sighed. She took her time fussing over my bed, a pink frilled coverlet with white lace pillows. It was like Valentine’s Day had come and thrown up in this room back in the late eighteen hundreds.
“I don’t know how you got here, child, but I do know if Count De Santis brought you here, then it means you’re his last hope in getting Marisol back.”
“Who is Marisol?”
“Why, Marisol would be Count De Santis’s amour. His one true love.”
Did she say what I thought she said? I shook my head. “One true love?”
Agatha headed for the door. “You’re the only one who can heal his broken heart.”
Me? She couldn’t mean me. That was silly. I was Joy, bringer of happiness and harmony. Sure, I could restore happiness and harmony into people’s lives after they lost someone, but heal a broken heart? He should have kidnapped my sister Hope. She was the one with the powers to heal and restore one’s desires.
Joy In Love (Daughters of Cupid Book 1) Page 1