Perfectly Matching Again (Cupids & Goddesses #3)

Prologue

WHERE A CUPID TAKES A CHANCE ON AN UNLIKELY MATCH (AFTER FROLICKING IN ELEVATORS)

A bby Angellini-Goddard discreetly wiped her mouth, got to her feet and slumped against the mirror, covering the elevator wall from floor to ceiling. Next to her, thoroughly debauched, panted her wife.

Sabine Goddard’s eyes all but rolled back in her head and the state of her was one to behold. Glasses askew, skirt hunched up, blouse wrinkled. Yeah, there was no mistaking what had just happened in this elevator.

But then, Abby mused sagely, why should anyone be mistaking anything and who could fault her? Sabine was a Queen for a reason and years had only made her more attractive in every possible and impossible way. And Abby was a mere Cupid, worshiping her Queen. As one does.

She lifted a hand to brush the hair out of her face and the scent of her wife, still clinging to her fingertips, made Abby slightly dizzy. She cast a sidelong glance in Sabine’s direction, only to be immediately rebuffed.

“I am too old to frolic in elevators, Abigail!”

But there was not enough conviction in said rebuffing.

Abby could hear the “maybe, possibly, probably” in the tone of the beloved voice.

She turned fully to face the now shallowly breathing Sabine, all anticipation and hunger.

Suddenly the elevator suddenly dinged, announcing their arrival to a floor that neither of them pressed.

In fact, Abby was fairly certain they had blocked it from moving a few seconds after getting on.

“Someone out there is in a hurry.” Abby mused.

“Someone out there has power.” Sabine replied with a huff, all the while speedily and efficiently setting her clothing to rights.

She almost made it. Almost. In fact, when the door fully opened in front of two impatient guests of the hotel, Abby was certain only one of them noticed anything amiss with the Queen of the Perfect Match.

Erato’s smirk was knowing, even if it came and went quickly.

Like an afterthought. Like she had been in a hurry.

Like gossip, her favorite thing ever, after a mind shattering orgasm, was no longer of importance…

Sabine clearly agreed with Abby’s train of thought because she dismissed the leering muse with an eye roll before focusing on the person pressing the elevator call button with so much impatience, the dings were becoming deafening.

There was a peculiar scent in the air, one Abby herself adored, one that she had always associated with earth and soil and rain. With fertility.

Petrichor.

And so it could only be a certain immortal. The Goddess of Harvest, all a mass of dark curls and moody golden eyes, pushed past them into the elevator and scrunched her nose.

Yeah, no petrichor there, Demeter, just sex…

Abby thought with an almost eye roll of her own.

However, Demeter, aloof as she was, wasn’t someone you sassed freely.

Especially not when there was a literal storm cloud hanging over her head.

Erato’s face was somber as she followed the Goddess after allowing Sabine and Abby to exit.

No, they didn’t need this particular floor, but they knew when to step aside. It was one of those times.

As the doors closed, to Abby’s immense surprise, the Muse reached out and carefully clasped Demeter’s fingers in her own. The notoriously moody Goddess did not flinch, nor did she pull away. Abby’s mouth fell open.

Sabine’s “hmmm,” was prolonged and thoughtful. Too prolonged and too thoughtful.

Before Abby knew what was happening, the telltale sound of the quiver being pulled and let loose sounded next to her ear and her Cupid eye watched as a silver arrow sailed in the tiny gap between the elevator doors.

“That’s quite a shot.” Abby was impressed. Abby was also immensely curious. What had Sabine seen? She was once a fair to middling Cupid in her own right. Obviously never achieving the heights her spouse had, but still. “I have to confess I saw nothing there, Sabine.”

Sabine was quiet for a moment—magicking her quiver and arrows away with a wave of her graceful hand—before taking Abby’s and leading her towards the bar in the far corner of the floor they had ended up on.

When they settled down and their order was taken, Sabine looked back to the elevator doors, now shut, her expression still thoughtful.

“I must confess, I was not going to go along with Dite’s charade. Nor was I about to do Zeus’ bidding…” She took a sip of her Old Fashioned and made a face. Abby tapped her fingers on the smooth marble surface and tried to wait patiently. When that failed, she prompted.

“So you weren’t going to shoot at all?”

Sabine smiled and nodded, the second sip of her drink clearly much more to her liking.

“Yes, darling. I was keeping my quiver to myself?—”

“Now you’re just talking dirty.” They dissolved in giggles and Abby reached out and caressed Sabine’s forearm.

“It was a damn spectacular shot, my love. One try, though the barest of openings? Or should I say closings?”

Sabine’s smile was not even a little arrogant. Abby’s abdomen muscles clenched. Blessed Aphrodite, she was so lucky! And she was about to drag this Cupid up to their room and devour her the second she was finished with the cocktail.

“The shot itself wasn’t easy, but I hope it’s a match.” Sabine licked the tiny droplet of alcohol off her lip and almost sent Abby into a tailspin.

“Yes, that is quite a question there. Demeter and Erato? Why?”

Sabine played with her fingers, splayed on the bar top, and sighed before answering.

“I can’t say. In fact, I’m not certain of this one at all, Abby.”

“Then why?—”

“Because there was something there, something that is not logical, nor immediately obvious, not even reasonable. The Goddess of Harvest, the notorious recluse, temperamental, and finicky as hell, forgive me Hades, and the Muse of Erotica? The Muse who made it her career to bed as many mortals and immortals as possible? Demeter has been so discerning she might as well have been off limits for any and all cupids. And Erato? She has more arrow holes in her than a target sheet.”

Abby reached over and stole a sip from Sabine’s tumbler. No, she still couldn’t understand why her wife so often ordered it. And she couldn’t understand why her wife made the earlier choice she did either.

“So my question stands. Why?”

Sabine’s face was thoughtful as she spoke, a tiny furrow marring her impeccable brow.

“Because the best things make little sense, Abigail Angellini-Goddard. Because on paper, you and I made no sense at all. And yet you believed in us, even when I didn’t.

You had faith in me. That I would reach for the courage and for the clarity to see what was right in front of me, darling.

Because that is a precious gift, the trust to find oneself and not to lose that which made the connection special. ”

Abby looked at Sabine’s beautiful face, the chiseled cheekbones and the full lips, the dark lashes framing perceptive, intelligent eyes. Yes, lucky indeed, so very very lucky… But the soul of this Cupid? Unmatched.

“See?” Sabine placed a kiss on the palm of Abby’s hand, making her shiver. “Even now, when this decision makes no sense to you, I can feel you trusting me.”

“I know you, Sabine. You are, above all, mine. That is fated. That is a given. And you, for some reason, believe that those two who looked like they had never been in the same room before, are fated as well. So it doesn’t matter what I see.”

Sabine polished off her drink and stood up, extending a hand to Abby.

“I don’t know, but they have a curious spark.

I can’t explain it. More than sex, though they are probably burning the sheets right now and their chemistry is definitely off the charts.

That was obvious, darling. But there was something else there.

Something I can’t quite figure out. It’s in the way Erato, a total horn dog, held Demeter’s hand with no expectation of a quickie in the elevator.

And the way Demeter, who has likely been untouched by her own design for centuries if not longer, leaned into that touch, not just accepting it but reveling in it. ”

They walked hand in hand, nodding to an occasional Cupid mingling about.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Sabine. I just can’t?—”

“See it.” Sabine finished her thought as they came back to the now fateful elevator doors.

“I can’t say I saw much, either. Still, sometimes being a Queen means I can take chances.

And in love? Everything is a chance.” Sabine sighed.

“There was something so bright, so earnest there. I had to push it along, so to speak. And if I was wrong, well, Maddison St. James will be crowned Queen of the Perfect Match tomorrow and I’ll have my first ever season when all the arrows I shot missed their mark. ”

Abby shook her head. She’d have to believe that one when she saw it, even if she spotted nothing at all in Erato and Demeter.

But Sabine never missed. Sabine noticed what was under a millennia of hurt, oblivion and pretenses and if anyone could identify a Perfect Match between two of the most unlikely beings, it would be her.

The next morning, as Abby cheered for Sabine, crowned yet again the Queen of the Perfect Match, she felt the weight of a look on herself.

She turned slowly. In the very back of the immense convention room—among angry, outwitted Gods, ecstatic cupids, still drunk on Aphrodite’s speech—stood Demeter, her face devoid of any discernible expression.

The Goddess’ golden eyes drifted away from Abby to where Erato was clapping steadily for Aphrodite and then to the massive score board where Sabine’s perfect match shone brightly.

As Abby watched, Demeter narrowed her gaze at the blinking light before quietly leaving the room.