Signs of Cupidity, page 6
“Hey. I asked you a question. Tie me up for what? I don’t want to be tied up,” I tell him. Then I consider it. “Well, unless it’s for, like, some hot bondage-type stuff. I might be okay with that. Except you’ll have to go easy on me for the first time. I’m new at all this. Plus I’m injured. We’ll need a safe word. How about pineapple?” Because it’s always pineapple.
I’m rambling, right? I think I’m rambling. Ouch, I hurt everywhere.
He just stares at me. And stares. And stares. Someone whistles under his breath.
“Bloody hell,” Third says with a salacious smirk. “Where you been all my life?”
“Shut up,” First snaps at him. “She’s an enemy. We’re tying her up and then I’ll interrogate her. We’ll get answers by any means necessary.”
Whoa. So definitely not the fun kind of tying up, then.
Well, in that case, he’s definitely not the first one I’d kiss anymore. He’s just dropped himself right into last place.
Asshole.
When he turns to look at the others, I notice that he has a quiver and bow strapped to his back.
I gasp in outrage. “You shot me with an arrow!”
He turns and glares down at me. “You were infiltrating our island.”
I narrow my eyes. “Infiltrating? What is this, a war zone? I was falling. I couldn’t help where I landed.”
“Sure,” he says, as if he doesn’t believe me at all.
Yep. He’s definitely in last place.
I try to roll over, but even that is too much, and I end up stuck on my side, breathing through the pain as my head spins. Damn.
Third kneels in front of me. His eyes run up and down over me, assessing. “What are you?”
I hear First scoff behind me. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s a demon.”
I whip my head around to glare at him. “Excuse me? I am not a demon!”
“You have red wings.”
“They’re feathered,” I counter defensively. “Demons don’t have feathers, and their wings are black. Besides, I have pink hair. Have you ever seen a demon with pink hair?”
First crosses his massive arms in front of him. “I’m seeing one now.”
I open my mouth to tell him off when Third cuts across me. “What are you?” he asks again.
“What does it matter?” I snap. “You’ve shot me with an arrow, and now you’re going to tie me up. I haven’t done anything to any of you. You can all go to hell.”
First snorts. “Spoken like a true demon.”
“Enough, Ronak,” Second says.
I give First—Ronak—a triumphant look. “Yeah, enough,” I say, glad to finally get someone who’s talking some sense. “You’re not first anymore.”
He scowls down at me. “What?”
“You were first, but that was before I knew you were such a giant ass. You’re definitely not first anymore. I strip you of the honor. I’ll call you Not-First from now on.”
Not-First—Ronak—stares at me like I’m insane and then lets out a long-suffering sigh. “What’s she spewing about?”
Third smirks. “I like her.”
“Nobody asked you,” Not-First snaps.
“Fuck off, Ronak.”
“Yeah, fuck off, Not-First,” I add.
All three of them frown at me. Whoops. I guess I’m not allowed to say that.
Second pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, like he’s really trying to keep the situation under control. “Could you two not start?” he says to them. He opens his eyes to look back at me. “What are you talking about with Ronak being first?”
I begin to explain their ranking. “First, Second, Third,” I say, pointing to each one of them in correct order. “Except he’s not in first place anymore,” I say, pointing back at Ronak. “His attitude is deplorable.”
“You put us in order?” Third asks, his lips twitching up to betray his amusement.
“Of course.”
Seriously, who wouldn’t?
“In order of what?”
I open my mouth to tell them about my kissing order, but stop myself just in time. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I taunt.
Second sighs. “Okay, okay. We aren’t getting anywhere, and she’s bleeding all over our island. Evert, help me pick her up. We’ll take her to the cabin and see to her wounds.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Ronak snaps. “She’s an enemy.”
“Oh, screw off,” Third says. “Do you ever pull the stick out of your ass?”
Not-First glares back at him like he wants to melt his face off.
Second gets between them before things can escalate. He’s obviously the peacekeeper of the group. “Look at her, Ronak,” he says quietly. “She’s weak and hurt. She’s not going anywhere. I don’t think she’s like the other ones.”
That has me perking up, despite the pain I’m in. “What other ones?” I ask.
I don’t get an answer. Does he mean other cupids? No, that doesn’t make sense. But then what does he mean?
“What’s your name?” Second asks.
Well, if they won’t answer my questions, I won’t answer theirs.
I raise my chin in a show of obstinacy. “I don’t have a name, but I wish I did just so that I could refuse to give it to you,” I snap.
Third laughs. “Yep. I was right. I do like her.”
“Shut the fuck up, Evert!” Ronak snarls.
“Get her back and tie her up. Now.” He turns and stalks away, the bow and quiver slapping against his massive back as he stomps away from us.
Third—Evert—rolls his eyes. “You really going along with this?”
Second sighs. “You know how this looks, Evert. Maybe Ronak’s right—”
“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there, because right and Ronak don’t go together.”
“You’re just arguing for the sake of arguing,” Second says quietly. “No matter what Ronak would have said, you would’ve taken the opposite side, like you always do.”
Third just shrugs at the accusation, like that’s exactly what he’d do, and he doesn’t give a damn who knows it.
“Don’t be like this. Ronak could be right about her. When has someone come to our island that didn’t mean us harm? Never,” he says, answering his own question. “In all the years we’ve been here, there’s never been one person or creature that was sent here unless it was to hurt us. Be smart about this.”
“Smart? Is that what you are for kissing his ass?”
“I don’t kiss his ass. I just don’t hold a grudge like you.”
This would all be terribly fascinating if, you know, I wasn’t bleeding out and curled up in agony. “Can you guys argue later? Whatever you’re going to do, just do it. Everything hurts,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
That brings their attention back to me. “Help me bring her back to the cabin,” Second says, coming forward.
Third—Evert—sighs. “If it was up to me, I’d take you back to my bed and tie you up under very different circumstances, but it seems I’m overruled,” he says, making my heart do this weird flip-flop thing. “So just try and be a good little enemy bird, won’t you?”
I have no idea what to say to that.
CHAPTER 9
Second and Third kneel on either side of me. Evert slips an arm on one side of my back, while Second slips his arm around my other side. Together, they heft me in the air, each of them taking a side, supporting me under my armpits and thighs.
I cry out when Second jostles my hurt wing, and he grimaces before catching himself. See? He’s the nice one, even if he’s trying to hide it.
Despite me being dubbed Enemy Number One, they carry me carefully, their matching strides long and even and surprisingly smooth for their bulky size.
I realize that the reason the two of them are carrying me instead of just one is because they don’t want to move my wings. That’s … oddly thoughtful of them, considering the vastly different vibes I keep getting.
Still, even with them being careful, the gravity pulling at my heavy wings is painful in more ways than one. I can’t tuck my wings in either, because of the arrow. Damn Not-First for shooting me. If I had my bow and arrow, I’d shoot him right in the ass.
Despite the pain I’m in, I can’t help but be desperately aware of their touch. Where their callused fingers hold under my arms and legs, my skin tingles and jumps, like my nerves are overexcited puppies. I’m pretty sure my thighs would try to melt in their hands if they could. Even my armpits are excited about being touched. Who knew being hoisted up by the pits could feel so good?
When Second moves his hand to get a better grip on my thigh, I nearly shudder. If I weren’t in pain and bleeding, I’d grab that hand and rub myself on it like a cat. Speaking of cats, I look over his shoulder and stare at his wheat-colored tail with the blond tuft at the end. It’s trailing behind him, flipping back and forth every so often like it’s bored.
Third’s tail is sleek and black, with a tuft of thicker black fur on the end. I really want to grab one and see what they feel like, maybe rub my cheek against it. Hmm, would that be a social faux pas? I stop myself from doing anything crazy— like reaching back and yanking on one—and decide to study their faces instead.
Third—Evert—has black hair and stormy blue eyes. Like the others, his jaw is covered in a thick beard that makes him look rugged and sexy. But on his cheeks, pretending to hide under his beard, are the sexiest dimples I have ever seen.
Oh, gods, those dimples. I want to reach up and poke my tongue in the indent.
Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking making him Third. He’s definitely first place material. Plus, you know, he’s the only one who seems to not think I’m some crazed enemy sent here to lead them to their demise.
When he notices me looking at him, he shoots me a smirk, putting one of those dimples on display, and I swear, my whole body flushes.
“You keep looking at me like that, and we might not make it back to the cabin after all.”
“Evert,” Second scolds.
Second has blond hair that glistens in the sun and those nice brown eyes of his. His skin has a dark, healthy tan, and he’s slightly smaller in build than the others. Everything about him gives off a calm, friendly vibe.
“What’s your name, Second?” I ask.
He arches a brow at me before answering, “Sylred.”
“Sylred,” I taste the word on my tongue. “I like it,” I say.
“You gonna tell us why you ranked us yet?” Third asks.
“No. But I have to tell you, things aren’t looking good, what with the decision to tie me up and all.”
“So basically what you’re saying is that I’m your new favorite.”
“Definitely,” I say with complete seriousness.
He flashes me that full-dimpled smile, and I’m ready to bow down before him and declare myself his sex nymph if he’ll just keep looking at me like that.
Also, sidenote, I’ve seen the real fae nymphs. They really are obsessed with sex. It’s all they do and talk about. Even I got sick of them after a couple of days. And they aren’t what you’d call attractive, either. They’re tiny, made up of mostly skin and bones, and have faces like bats. So yeah, pretty disappointing overall.
We’re still walking through the forest, and even though I know they’re being as gentle as possible, the jostling is starting to make all my aches and pains even worse.
Then I feel something. On my arm. My itch.
I shriek loudly, nearly making Evert and Sylred drop me. Their tails flick around and they crouch into a protective stance, trying to see where the threat lies. But I’m too busy staring at my arm to reassure them.
Without taking my eyes off my arm, I bring my hand to the spot that has plagued me for decades. I curl my fingers and drag my nails across my skin.
“Oh. My. Gods.”
I tilt my head back in complete ecstasy and flutter my eyelids shut. I finally, finally, finally can scratch this motherfucking itch. And it’s amazing.
“What the hell?” Evert says.
But I don’t answer him. I am in my own little itch-fantasy world.
I keep scratching, and high heavens, does it feel good. I scratch and scratch and scratch. I make that itch my bitch.
“Umm, do you have a rash or something?” Sylred asks.
I finally look up at them, still perched in their arms, and both pairs of eyes are watching me with confusion.
I laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to scratch this itch.”
Sylred clears his throat and nods at my arm. “Uh, okay,” he says, drawing out the word. “But you’re making your skin raw.”
I wave a hand at him dismissively. Raw shmaw. Who cares? I’m finally rid of the itch! I keep going.
“Alright, Scratch, I think you got it,” Evert says.
I realize right then that it is sort of hurting, so I reluctantly stop scratching. Very reluctantly. My skin is bright red with fingernail tracks, and I’ve peeled a layer of the skin away. But the itch is gone. Gone! That’s all that matters.
I shrug and put my hands back in my lap, poised and ready for the guys to continue carrying me. “As you were,” I say as politely as a princess. Evert snorts as they start walking me again.
“Don’t think I’m not watching you, itch. You come back and I’ll be all over you like rain in a puddle,” I say to my arm.
Evert grins. “She’s talking to her itch.”
Sylred’s lips twitch. “So I heard.”
“Maybe she’s daft?”
I laugh, but then I realize that’s probably what a crazy person would do, so I quickly stop. The guys shake their heads at me.
“Are we almost there? My wing hurts,” I tell them, and yes, my voice is a bit whiny, but it can’t be helped. I’ve had a very taxing day.
They don’t answer, but a few minutes later, we break into a clearing, and I see a large cabin before us. It’s made of the same wood as the forest trees, and it looks somewhat crude, with uneven cuts, branches and dried mud for a roof, and a door made of tree branches. The windows are covered with ropes of vines, and there’s a chimney jutting from the side made of stacked stones.
“Did you all … build this?”
“Yes.”
“Wow,” I say, impressed.
But then Mister Not-First-Anymore-Because-He’s-A-Big-(not fat)-Jerk-Who-Shot-Me steps out from behind a tree with a rope in his hands, and my stomach falls. I guess they weren’t kidding about the whole tying up thing.
Not-First points to a tree nearby, and I see Second and Third share a look before they set me down, putting my back to the tree. Ronak wastes no time coming over to start wrapping the rope around me.
“Hey!”
He ignores me, continuing to tie me up to the tree, and I’m forced to stop struggling because my wing and shoulder are killing me.
“I didn’t do anything!” I tell him. It falls on deaf ears. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice catching.
Second—Sylred—stands behind Not-First with his mouth turned down. “Is this really necessary? She’s a female and she’s injured.”
“Quiet,” Ronak snaps.
Apparently, it’s not up for discussion.
“Typical,” Evert mutters under his breath. “I’m out of this.”
With that, Third turns around and stalks away, disappearing from sight. Guess I just lost my ally.
Ronak pulls on the rope, ensuring it’s tight enough that I can’t escape. Then he sits back on his heels and stares hard. “What are you?”
He’s tied me so that my hands are caught in my lap, and my back is held against the rough bark of the tree without an inch of give.
“You shot me with an arrow, and now you’re tying me up like a prisoner. Why would I tell you anything?”
“Because if you don’t, that arrow in your wing will be the least of your problems.”
“You enjoy hurting a defenseless female?”
“I’ll bet your wings that you aren’t defenseless,” he replies, unconcerned. “But whatever plan you have against us won’t work.”
At this moment, he has no idea how wrong he is about me not being defenseless, although I’d never admit it. I’m completely at his mercy. If he was a bit closer, I might be able to breathe some Lust his way, but even if it could reach him, it wouldn’t work unless he felt at least a sliver of desire for me, and considering the hatred that burns in his black eyes, I highly doubt it.
Besides, I don’t even know if my cupid powers still work with me like this. I don’t want to test it out with an audience. I might need it later, and the element of surprise is good to have on my side.
“Who sent you?”
“Your mother.”
Not-First takes hold of my injured wing and yanks. Hard. I cry out and try to kick him, but he pins my legs under his and pulls me forward until our faces are only inches apart.
From this close, I can see now how black his eyes really are; it’s like looking down into a bottomless pit. I can’t help the tears that trickle out of my eyes from the pain in my wing. Hate burns through me, and I swear, if I had something to stab him with, I wouldn’t hesitate.
“Now you listen to me,” he says in a low voice. “You will tell me what you are, who sent you, and what you’re doing here.”
I grit my teeth in both pain and hate. “Let. Go.”
“Ronak …” Sylred says from behind him.
Not-First ignores him. “Tell me now,” he orders me, letting go of my wing with a painful lurch.
I know I’ve lost. I’m in terrible pain all over, my body is way too new to be effective in any sort of escape, and there’s no way I can get out of these bindings. But I hate him so much that even though I know he has all the power over me, I won’t give him what he wants. Why should I?
I turn my head away from him, refusing to answer. Ronak stands up and looms over me, but I don’t look at him. I try to make myself stop crying, but the throbbing pain in my wing along with the emotional stress won’t let the tears stop falling.
