Joy In Love (Daughters of Cupid Book 1)

by Eliza Chambers

  “What’s he talking about, Joy?”

  And he had to use my name. I flipped up my mask, lest I smack my hand to my forehead, breaking the beautiful piece of art. I glared at my half-brother. All brawn and no brains, but loyal. We might have come from the same father, and yeah, his mother was a goat, but I loved him.

  Keep it simple, Joy. “Giles, meet Count De Santis, the man I told you was holding me hostage to get Eros to reverse an arrow.”

  Giles's eyes flashed as the information sank in. “That sucks. You can’t reverse an arrow. Joy could have told you that.”

  “I did tell him.”

  “Good thing there are plenty of females to go around, uh?”

  “There is only one Marisol,” Damen said.

  “She’s human,” I explained for Giles.

  “You know they don’t live long, right?”

  Thanks to the balloon hoop of my skirt, Damen had to stand an arm’s length away from me. “Yes.”

  “Giles.” I couldn’t connect with him like I did my sisters. I hadn’t eaten anything or drunk anything in hours. My head throbbed with the effort. This time I got a buzz of static.

  “Tough luck and all. We should get going.” Giles reached for me, but Damen put his hand on me first.

  In my mind, I counted to three. Then the animal part of Giles kicked in. He snorted. “Joy, you want him touching you?”

  I shook my head.

  Overprotective, older brother. Thank you!

  Giles's eyes glowed red. “Step away from the female.”

  Wrenching out of his grasp, I took off—out of the alcove and down the hall. “Excuse me. Pardon me. Pardon.” I weaved around the people. No wonder the woman had traded with me. I thought it had been the shoes but moving around in this balloon of fabric was like running underwater.

  Glancing back, I saw Giles had Jace against the wall. He shoved Damen’s lackey to the ground, stampeding after Damen, but then Jace grabbed Giles by the legs, pulling him down. Giles roared.

  Ahead, a cluster of big-skirted women headed for the ballroom. “Pardon. Excuse me.” I tried to sound polite, plowing into them, pushing skirt against skirt to get through. The women said all kinds of explosive Italian and French at me. When I was almost to the other side, an arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me against a hard chest.

  I kicked and clawed with my skirt flicking back and forth as I swung from his arm at the waist. “Cease this behavior at once,” he commanded in front of our audience. Turning, Damen gave me the full sight of Giles sprawled out on the marble tiles down the hall, Jace’s knee between his shoulders and his hand on one of Giles’s prize horns. Blood ran from Giles’s nose. Rushing down the hall, Giles’s former flock of women raced to reach him. “An accident. Someone find a first-aid kit.”

  “It looks like he’s got a nice set of horns on his head, Cherub. They don’t grow back as fast as it takes to break them.”

  Giles struggled. Jace held him by the horns. Watching, waiting. Giles worked up a fit to attack again, searching for leverage. One hard twist and Jace would break off my half-brother’s horns. To those around us, no one would know the difference; they all thought they were part of his costume. I knew. Damen knew. And the woman standing behind Jace with her hands over her mouth knew it, too.

  “You win, Damen. Please, whatever you do, don’t break his horns.” It came out deflated, half whispered, and half hoarse. Satisfied, he gave the signal to Jace to let Giles free. I held my breath, expecting Jace to break the horns for spite, but Jace leaned in, said something to Giles, shoved the blond satyr’s head down, and walked away.

  Glowing red eyes stared after us as Damen forced me to walk down the hall and out of the palace.

  Outside, I stepped on a rock and stubbed a toe. I limped and hopped. “Wait. My shoes. I left them back at the palace.”

  “Then let this be a lesson,” Damen said.

  I danced around on the cobblestones. As a child, my friends and I would play a game on the sidewalk called “don’t break your mother’s back.” The game was simple. You hopped over the cracks in the pavement. Growing up east of Pittsburgh, the sidewalks were more than cracked, they were shattered. I had enough room on the small rectangular cobblestone streets for the heel or the pad of my toes as I tried to avoid stepping on tiny pebbles or sharp stones.

  At the stairs leading back down to the gondola, Damen kept me from going down the first step. “This won’t do. You’ll have to strip.”

  First, he abducted me, bound my ability to reach my sisters. Then he’d had Jace stab me with some kind of wing-deflating drug and threaten to break my half-brother’s horns. The man was delusional if he thought I would take my clothes off in front of him. “Does the word no mean anything to you?”

  “I don’t think you’re in much of a place right now to refuse me.” Damen snapped his fingers. “Come now. Take it off.”

  I crossed my arms over my bosom. “I will not.”

  “You can keep your underthings,” he said, waving his hand. “Now off with it. You won’t fit that hideous contraption into the boat.”

  “I can deflate it.” I turned away, lifting my skirt up and trying to find the ties of the crinoline beneath. Damen grabbed the back of my dress, tearing it at the hooks down the seam.

  “What are you doing!” I jerked away, assisting in separating more of the fabric from my body.

  “I told you, I’m not a patient man.”

  There was something in his voice, those dark eyes, which should have scared me. I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I let the dress drop. Underneath, I had on a black corset and granny bloomers. Bless the woman who traded with me to give me the whole deal.

  A breeze swirled off the water, chasing little bumps up my arms. I had on more than most women wore to the beach, but with Damen’s eyes drifting over me in the shadows of the lamp lights, I might as well have been naked.

  Damen snapped his fingers, and the dark cloak appeared in his hand. Casually, in his nonchalant way, he flicked it out and draped it over my shoulders. “Not bad, Cherub.”

  Usually, I’d say something back, anything. Once more, I was without words. My face flamed, and the fire went clear up to my hairline. I tugged the cloak together and took the stairs down to the water. Jace held his hand out for me. He wasn’t smiling or even smirking at me. His golden eyes remained filled with flecks of his desires, so I avoided looking into them, my heart sinking at the touch of Damen’s hand on my back as I got into the gondola. This was a one-stop boat taxi, straight back to my prior dilemma. Sitting on the velvet chair, Damen kept his arm around my shoulders. His fingers toyed with my ear as much as he had toyed with my heart.

  At least, as far as I knew, the golden feather had gotten past him.

  There were all kinds of creatures in this world, mortals blind to their existence for their own peace of mind. Few had feathers of pure gold, two I knew of for sure—One being my half-brother and the other the man responsible for my existence.

  Jace shoved the boot away from the stair landing. Inside the canals, some buildings were so close I could reach out and touch them if I wanted. Light from the windows of the residents in the buildings above the water level shone out across the water. Some bridges were not as high as others, so Jace had to bend a little as we went under the arch.

  “How did you get me off the bridge?” I asked, hating that I couldn’t remember. More annoyed, my plan of escape should have worked. Damen called me a baby cherub. It was how Cherish always treated me. I’m the baby sister. By human years, I’m a full-grown adult. In two days, I’d be forever twenty-one. It’s an immortal thing. That was, if I didn’t end up down in the pit of Tartarus for eternity.

  Refusing to answer me, Damen gazed ahead, his fingers pinching that one strand of curly hair against my cheek. My fingers itched to knock his hand away. In the waters beside me, I heard a plop. Instead of turning my head, I glanced from the corner of my eyes. Nothing. As I started to look away, the water bubbled. A shadow of a
long-tailed fish rippled to the surface as we glided under another stretch of light, then it sank deeper and disappeared.

  “Jace.” Damen’s fingers released my hair, his hand slipping behind my neck. His thumb brushed up and down the column, pausing beneath my chin. I counted the beats of my pulse.

  “Almost there.” Jace turned the oar, and the boat headed down into a new canal, away from the lights and the muffled sounds of Venice.

  “Do you remember which one?” Damen’s voice sounded as smooth as silk.

  “Which one what?” Not being particularly fond of the dark, I closed my eyes. At least I knew that kind of darkness was safe. I felt the cool tickle of Damen’s hand slipping around my neck. Would he do it? Marisol wasn’t coming back. Nothing I could do would change her heart’s true desire. She was happy with Arthur. I was happy for her. Inside, my harmony elements sang in joyous union.

  “Bridge.”

  He’d talk to me now. Jerk.

  “What does it matter?” Whatever I spotted under the water earlier wasn’t coming back. I felt the motion of the boat through the water, slowing down.

  “It’s hard to see it unless you look up.”

  Not given a choice, Damen lifted my chin, but my eyes stayed closed.

  “Look,” he commanded. With no choice, as Damen’s dark side cloaked around my throat and squeezed, my eyes opened. Overhead was one of the tallest bridges, maybe even the highest. The locals refer to it as the Bridge of Sighs.

  “What’s your point?” We stopped directly under the bridge. Water lapped at the sides and started to rise. I wasn’t a big fan of this part, the upside-down, turn-around-back-at-the-estate trick.

  “There are those who believe if they kiss under the bridge, it will bring them eternal love and happiness.”

  My love meter had jumped from almost empty to overboard in less than two seconds. Coming from Damen, I had to wonder. He was in love with Marisol, his entire world wrapped around this woman. What new game was he playing? Besides, my heart swelled at the moment with romance and sweetness. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my eyes had turned carnation pink. I’d seen Cherish’s eyes do it once.

  Almost leaning into Damen, I caught myself. “Save it for your true love.”

  Damen chuckled, the waters rising up to form the pillar as we sank. He brushed his nose against my cheek, his husky whisper sending my heart to the pit of my stomach. “What makes you think I haven’t and you’re the one who can’t remember?”

  10

  Doomed. I’m so doomed.

  Damen had Jace bring me back to the pink room last night. I couldn’t sleep; my inner harmony had become unbalanced. I paced the carpet. Stomach growling, no sleep, no coffee, whatever trick Damen had up his sleeve today, he’d better not mess with me.

  Who messed with you?

  Tripping over my own two feet, I fell back on the bed. Cherish?

  Faith. You better not have ruined my shoes.

  You have to get me out of here! Static buzzed, and I grasped to hold on to the line of the connection she’d established with me. My temples hurt, they ached and throbbed as the static grew.

  Where. Are. You? This time I heard Cherish. She joined the connection with us.

  Argghh… I squeezed my eyes shut. I pictured the room, its baby cherub border, and the pink wall. I heard laughter; wincing, I kept drawing up my last memories for them.

  “Rise and shine, ragazza.” Agatha’s trill voice caused my eyes to pop open, and like that, I lost the connection with my sisters. Groaning, I rolled over on the bed, wrapping my hands on either side of my head.

  “Oh, my.” Agatha clucked her tongue. “Count De Santis has requested you join him for breakfast.”

  I’d rather throw up, but I didn’t have anything in my stomach to regurgitate. Had I shared enough to get through to them my situation?

  Agatha dumped a set of clothes at the end of the bed. “You’re to wear this.”

  Sitting up, I peeked at her through narrow slits. Some people were morning people. How could Agatha stand there smiling right as rain when her employer trapped me into this useless scheme?

  “Did he pick out Marisol’s clothes, too?”

  Agatha’s smile faltered a bit. “You’ve had a rough night, haven’t you? I heard you didn’t like the outfit for the ball and switched out of it. Rather bold of you.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  Agatha clasped her hands together in front of her. “Not long, just a few moments. I tried to give you as much time to sleep in as I could. I imagine the Count had you out far too late last night. Did you have a good time?”

  “Would you have a good time if someone forced you to go to a ball and held you hostage, to use as a pawn against one of your family members?” My fury rose.

  Agatha walked over and sat between me and the clothes. “No, I don’t suppose I would, but I know you can sit in here and pity yourself, or you can get dressed and turn it around on him.” She patted the clothes. “My pick. You wear.”

  My hand brushed over the warm fuzzy black sweater. Under it a pair of jeans and clean underthings. Unable to contain my gratitude, I hugged her. Taken by surprise, Agatha went slack a moment before she hugged me back. “Sometimes, all it takes is a bit of love to change the way a person sees things.”

  She pulled back. Her smile filled with kindness.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’ve no superpowers if that’s what you’re asking, Joy. My family has lived and worked for Count De Santis for generations. I’m the last one left, and I’d wish to see him happy before my time is up.” She winked and headed for the door. “I’ll give you twenty, then if you’re not ready, I can’t promise it won’t be Jace to fetch you.”

  “Twenty it is.” After what I did to him, seeing the way he flipped Giles and would have torn his horns off, I shuddered. For a man who healed people, he seemed content to do as much damage. I spied his basis of essence; had I been mistaken?

  Feeling all kinds of out of sorts, I hurried to dress and prepare for breakfast. Without Sierra, I brushed my hair and tied it back in a ponytail. Scrubbing my face, I figured I wasn’t here to impress anyone.

  When Agatha appeared back at the door, I was ready. I noticed she wore shoes, flat Mary Janes, black with a buckle. At least I had socks. “You don’t know what happened to my shoes, do you?”

  “You didn’t come with any, so the Count had me get you a pair. Did you lose them?”

  “Yes.” A half-truth.

  “You’ll have to sweeten up the Count. Maybe he’ll send for a new pair.” And she gave me that look; my appetite was no longer of importance. Could I flirt and “sweeten” Damen into giving me Faith’s shoes back? In the back of my mind, a little yes echoed there.

  Down the stairs, through the foyer, toward the back of the house, she brought me into a large dining room. A table with a dozen chairs and Damen sitting at the head greeted me. A place setting had been laid out for me at the right of Damen.

  Agatha laid a hand on my arm. “Stick to the juice. I made it fresh this morning.”

  Walking up along the dining room table, I opened my mind and my heart. It stung a little, carrying the crack from the day before. Coming up to the chair with the place setting, Jace stepped out from the wall. I hadn’t even noticed him. The man was like a chameleon, blending in everywhere. Thinking of him blending in with the pink walls of my room both horrified and amused me. A little smirk came out before I could stop it. Jace’s eyes narrowed, clearly his thoughts still lingering on last night.

  Grasping my chair, he pulled it out for me.

  “Espresso?” Agatha came out with a plate of running eggs and cheese, placing it down before me. Jace offered a tiny little cup filled with dreamy-smelling dark liquid. A peace offering? I thought not.

  Hesitating, Jace crossed his arms.

  “Problem, Cherub?” Damen glanced over at me from the iPad in his hand.

  Agatha’s gaze dropped to the espresso, then to th
e juice. Inwardly, I groaned. If I wanted to keep hold of the weak link to my sisters, I would have to do without caffeine. Biting the inside of my cheek, I reached for the juice.

  “I’m not that much into coffee.” Liar. My inner harmony was disgruntled with withdrawal. What I really wanted to say was, No bindweed for me, thank you.

  “Tea then?” Damen didn’t so much as look up from his iPad.

  “Juice is fine.”

  Jace’s expression hardened.

  “You’ll have the car ready by ten?” Damen glanced at Jace.

  “As you wish.”

  Sucked when you had to obey every command of a demigod. I wanted to stick out my tongue at Jace. He beat me to it with the stink-eye pinning me in my seat. Next time I blew a little love his direction, I’d make sure it stuck for a long, long time. I leaned back, sipping my juice, watching him leave the room.

  “Feeling smug, Cherub?”

  Inside, the little thread of Damen’s darkness tugged. I couldn’t allow him to get any closer to my heart.

  “Reading how to make your sweetheart stay in love with you? I hear ‘Dear Abbey’ gives some good advice, or don’t they have that here in Italy?”

  “Is that what American mortals do when they can’t figure out which person to marry next? What is the average now, three or four?”

  “Not all of us are fortunate enough to recognize when we’ve found the one who was made for us.” I picked at the cheese.

  “Then you understand when someone loves greatly, they will go through any means possible to hold on to it.” Damen laid down his digital tablet.

  Without thought, I reached over and placed my hand over his. “It also means recognizing when it’s time to let go.”

  Damen pulled his hand out from under mine. Taking the iPad with him, he stood. “Be ready by ten.”

  “Where are you taking me? I’m not much of a fan of having raw yolk mixed with my scrambled eggs.” I pushed back from the table, ready to go after him. I wanted answers.

  Not that I had expected him to give me any, he said, “There’s a castle a few hours from here. They’re hosting a special wine-tasting event for couples. I thought we would attend.”