Page 1 of Incurably Cupid (Moonhaven Cove #5)

Chapter 1

Indie

“Love tries, and then tries again.”

Cupid Inc. New Recruit Training Manual

I was morosely sitting in the dreamers' break room at Cupid Inc., enjoying a bowl of ramen while everyone else indulged in cupcakes. Anyone who knew me—which, let's be honest, is no one, since I have no friends—would say that my presence in the dreamers' break room instead of the logicians' was nothing short of a cataclysmic event.

The truth is, I’ve reached a point in my current assignment where I’m willing to try anything. Unfortunately, my assignment is stubborn and completely thickheaded. I honestly don’t think he has a single romantic bone in his body. So, I found myself here with the dreamers, in a break room that, while aesthetically pleasing, felt overly extravagant.

I glanced around at the dome-shaped, crystal-clear ceiling and the walls that flooded the space with ambient light. The lighting at Cupid Inc. and, on a larger scale, on the floating isle of Steadfast in the city of Devotion, was always infused with romantic colors—purples, pinks, soft oranges, deeper blues—the hues of sunrise, which, according to cupids everywhere, were supposed to symbolize change and new beginnings.

I kid you not. That was a direct quote from the new recruit training manual. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

At least the dreamers were quieter than the logicians. The logicians' break room was my usual haunt, where I could hear people chatting quietly at the group tables, the pitter-patter of keyboard keys, Cupid Inc. tablets beeping and talking softly, the food replicator swishing as it produced another meal, and the rustle of fabric as people moved the massive floof chairs to gather with friends.

I usually sat alone, of course. Other cupids avoided me. It probably had something to do with my abrasive, sarcastic, and jaded personality, and my utter lack of belief that love can endure. Not because of any personal experience—I’d never been in love before—but because of the many things I’d seen on the job. You witness enough couples crash and burn, despite their sweet beginnings, and you start to believe that love is just a fairytale people tell each other to get through their miserable existences.

“Can I sit with you, Indie?”

I glanced up to find my cupid facilitator, Lyrica, standing in the fading light from the windows. The heart-shaped lanterns adorning the walls had automatically flickered on with the setting sun, and I hadn’t even noticed, lost as I had been in my own thoughts. “It’s not like I can stop you,” I said, shrugging.

Lyrica sat demurely, her ethereal opal and gold-trimmed robes rustling as she settled into the seat opposite me. She folded her hands on the table and contemplated me in silence for a few moments.

I wasn’t immune to the potent cupid bonding power Lyrica wielded—it sparkled around her in rainbow shimmers of pink, red, and gold. I’d only seen top-level cupids shimmer like that. Theirs was a power that you could feel emanating from them.

I had to resist the urge to smooth down my short, cotton candy pink hair, then scowled at my instant desire to prettify myself in her presence. Defiantly, I slurped more of my noodles, broth splashing onto the table and spattering the puffy clouds that skimmed across the clear glass surface. I didn’t care, though. I continued to avoid Lyrica’s gaze and took another sip of my hot chocolate.

It was chilly here in Devotion. Time in the ether moved differently than it did on Earth. While Moonhaven was just entering spring, Devotion was approaching the start of winter. We were a full season behind the earthly territory we covered. The temporal mechanics fae managed the time changes in the ether. I didn’t understand why the changes were necessary, but they did, and it wasn’t my department, so I didn’t have to understand it. I was very grateful for that because advanced math was not my strong suit.

“We’re not trying to punish you, Indie,” Lyrica finally said in her musical voice. Her golden eyes looked troubled as she took in the circles under my eyes and my disheveled appearance. I fought down a wince. Why, when I spoke to anyone in the nobility, did I always feel like a small, grimy child?

Cupids were ruled by a queen. Our queen's government consisted of regents appointed to oversee each country, and those regents then called emissaries to manage each territory within their jurisdiction. For example, Lyrica was the emissary for the Pacific Northwest territory. The isle of Steadfast fell under her authority, as did the Pacific Northwest states of the US. Unfortunately, that also included Moonhaven and the gargoyle that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t match with anyone.

I continued to sip my hot chocolate, still avoiding her golden gaze.

“You know our queen was a monarch for over a hundred years before she found her mate.”

I nearly spat out my sip of hot chocolate. Was she saying I was going to be trying to match Mesmer for a hundred years? I would quit tomorrow if that were the case. "With all due respect, I believe this gargoyle is unmatchable. I've tried for over a year to match him with someone."

Her gaze softened. “No one is truly unmatchable. You know that. Some are just special cases that take more time than the average person. Like our queen.”

Finally, I looked at her. “Are you saying that Mesmer is a special case?” For the love, please let it not be so. Special cases were typically people or paranormals who were pivotal to history, like lynchpins that changed the world. Their mates were usually incredibly difficult to find and took the longest to locate. Not unlike the many cupids who had scoured the world for the queen’s mate—a task that had taken over a hundred years.

I suddenly wanted to drown myself in my soup.

“But Draven’s mate was found...” I trailed off, remembering that Draven, the King of the Vampires, had met his mate only in the last year or so, despite being over a thousand years old.

Oh, hearts and stars, I wanted to go back to bed.

Mesmer’s significance probably had to do with King Draven. Because Mesmer didn't move on the world's stage, but he protected a man who did. And if King Draven were killed? It might spark a vampire war of succession. I’d been surprised when King Draven had taken the throne with little opposition from the rest of the vampires. But I guess he had a lot of power, and very few vampires could truly challenge him and win.

Why? Why had they given me this assignment? They knew I sucked at my job! They knew I didn’t believe in the drivel that passed for romantic love nowadays! And yet, I was a cupid, and it was my job, whether or not I believed I made any kind of positive difference to those I helped. There was a reason I stayed, though I still didn’t understand why. Maybe... maybe I just wanted to believe that it wasn’t all a lie. That true love was possible despite all the evidence to the contrary.

I growled and pressed the palms of my hands into my eye sockets, rubbing my tired, gritty eyes. Everything hurt. I’d been burning the candle at both ends lately between my two jobs, spending more time than I really had trying to find someone for Mesmer.

“Why?” It wasn’t the only question I had—I had a million of them—but it was the most pertinent at the moment. Why had they assigned a special case to someone so terrible at her job that she hadn’t made a match in years and who other cupids avoided as if I were a plague that would infect them if they came too close to me?

Lyrica sighed. “I have some theories, but they’re just that: theories. All I can tell you is that our queen personally requested you to oversee this match.”

My hand trembled as I moved my bangs out of my eyes. “Did King Micah suggest it to our queen?”

Lyrica nodded.

King Micah was an oracle. Oracles were paranormals gifted with a strong ability to see, though they didn’t always understand what they saw, as they usually received information in fragments. Our king’s gift was unusually powerful and respected, even reluctantly, by me. It also wasn’t something I could argue against, though I wanted to try. How do you argue with a seer? Better yet, why in the world would I be assigned to someone so important that the orders were handed down by a seer? By my king? It made zero sense.

Hearts and stars, this was a mess. I’d thought Mesmer was just a random assignment. I believed that if I failed, it would be fine—someone else would take over and match him up, and I’d move on to the next unfortunate person assigned to me. But that wouldn’t happen because special cases were assigned to specific cupids—usually those higher up in the cupid hierarchy than I was.

As twilight deepened in the room, the space around Lyrica glowed pink, red, and gold, little flecks of color sparkling around her like glowing fairy dust.

My soup had gone cold. Restlessly, I stood up and dumped it in the food recycler, abruptly deciding I needed a hotter hot chocolate. I approached the food replicator, scrolling through the flavor options: caramel, eggnog, Irish, pumpkin spice, mocha, candy cane, and my usual go-to, vanilla. Feeling desperate, I punched in the pumpkin spice option.

“Is this the correct choice?” a sexy male voice asked from the speaker above my head, displaying my selections on a screen.

“Give me my chocolate or I will take an icepick to your innards,” I said through clenched teeth. Obviously, it was the correct choice! I'd just chosen it!

“No need to be hostile, beautiful.” The hot chocolate shimmered into existence in the clear, sanitized compartment. “Have a lovely day!”

“Go eat a virus,” I muttered as I grabbed a heat sleeve for my disposable cup. I carried it back to the table I shared with Lyrica while the food replicator emitted a throaty laugh behind me.

It was frustrating when what was essentially a glorified toaster achieved sentience. All of our cupid tech was sentient. Our tech specialists had explained that it had something to do with extensive exposure to thousands of cupids with bonding magic. My Cupid Inc. tablet, Leo—a name he'd chosen himself—and I rarely saw eye to eye. He annoyed me to no end. He was also my best friend, which was really sad and kind of pathetic. Why was it easier to get along with snarky sentient tech than with people?

I glared at my tablet on the table and took a sip of my cocoa. Hmm, there was obviously something to the fervor and clamor for pumpkin spice because this was delicious. I suddenly remembered that I had neglected to ask if Lyrica wanted anything from the food replicator, but instead of offering, I hunched my shoulders and took another sip.

“Has it never occurred to you why you’re always given top matches, Indie?” Lyrica asked. “After all these years?”

I peered at her through the steam rising from my cocoa. “Have I been given top matches?”

She snorted inelegantly, and I wanted to smile. Lyrica being undignified was new. I approved. “Yes, Indie, yes! Of course! How long have you been a cupid for Cupid Inc.?”

I hummed in thought. “Hmm, maybe two hundred years or so?” Give or take a decade. And I didn’t look a day over twenty-five. Huh, I’d been at this longer than I thought. Was I just getting burned out?

“And did it not occur to you that your lack of success in your matches is due to the difficulty level of the person being matched and not any shortcomings on your part?”

I hid my face behind my cup. No, sadly that had never occurred to me.

Lyrica sighed. “Oh, Indie. Surely you didn’t think it’s been you all this time?”

I hunched my shoulders, refusing to meet her golden gaze. My eyes burned. My tablet, Leo, gave a little commiserating chirp that I found strangely comforting instead of annoying.

Lyrica stood and moved her chair closer to mine. When she sat down, she was practically shoulder to shoulder with me, leaning into my space as though she were trying to offer support and comfort without me snapping at her.

I … appreciated it.

All this time, I’d thought it was me—that I was terrible at my job, that I’d been given the worst assignments, that I was hopeless, too angry and jaded. It turned out I was likely higher up in the Cupid Inc. hierarchy than I wanted to admit, and I’d been assigned special cases over the years—people statistically very difficult to match. It could take an excellent cupid years to find a special assignment’s match. Their soulmate. Not everyone had one. In fact, soulmates, even among paranormals, were rare. Only vampires, shifters, and a few others had soulmates. Most paranormals and humans did not.

I pushed my cocoa away and buried my face in my hands. I’d been going about this all wrong. This meant that Mesmer had a mate! Gargoyles were extremely rare, and even though I’d asked around, no one knew if they had a specific soulmate or not, so I’d just been trying to match him with anyone I thought would be a good fit.

I groaned, feeling nauseous. Leo beeped again, and I patted him absently in gratitude for trying to be supportive. For some reason, being around Lyrica made him silent. With anyone else, he’d be talking up a storm. In fact, I often couldn’t get him to be quiet.

“How do I find Mesmer’s soulmate?” I asked Lyrica.

She shook her head, reaching to pat mine but reconsidering at the last moment. “That’s the thing. You can’t. You bring him matches that resonate for you using your bonding power, and he’ll know when you’ve found the right one.”

“I might have to break a few rules.”

“I expect nothing less from you,” Lyrica said, chuckling as she stood. “Come by my office if you want to talk about it or if you need assistance.”

I nodded. “Thanks for your help. Just out of curiosity, how high up in the hierarchy am I?” I mean, a cupid had the right to know, right?

Lyrica chuckled. It began as a soft laugh, but as she reached the door leading from the dreamers' break room, it grew into a full-bodied guffaw that had her leaning against the hallway wall to avoid faceplanting into the pearlescent marble floors.

I stared after her in confusion, a puzzled frown pulling at my brow.