Cupid's Wager Read online

  "Sounds Greek to me," she said, giggling at a private joke. She was a witless maid. It was as sound a Roman name as he could come up with, given a moment's notice. "So, why are you hanging around my diner all day?"

  "My purpose is not for common revelation," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. When she wasn't flinging insults, there was a sweetness about her face he felt deep in his groin.

  "Is that a fancy way of telling me to mind my own business? You speak English well - not hardly even an accent, but I sure don't understand your meaning, if you get my drift."

  "'Tis water that flows in both directions."

  "Huh? Oh, you mean you don't understand me, either! I got that. Okay, big guy. Here's the scoop. If you sit in my diner, you eat. When you're done eating, you pay and go. Simple, huh? We don't rent booths by the day."

  "I am still fair famished," he admitted. "The Benedictines were a tasty morsel, but insufficient to sate a hunger such as mine. Bring me meat. And much of it. And perhaps you would consent to join me while I partake? I am a stranger in these lands, and have need of company."

  "Well," she said, with an eloquent roll of her eyes. They were blue eyes. Large, expressive eyes, now that she had lowered the hardened shield she'd worn throughout the morning as if she were prepared for battle. "Since you asked me nicely, I can take a fifteen minute break when your steak is done."

  She sauntered off behind those metal doors again with a quick twitch of those girlish hips.

  Cupid shook his head disgustedly. Kayleigh Breighton and Thomas Renfield were perfect for each other. He'd brought them together a year ago, and it had been love at first sight. Then Mars had stepped in and managed to convince Kayleigh that Thomas was thoughtless and inconsiderate. He then planted the suggestion in Thomas's mind that Kayleigh would suffocate him with her insecurities. They'd had a terrible spat, and it had taken Cupid months to bring them back together. With smug satisfaction, he'd watched Thomas slip into an upscale jewelry store to buy a ring, knowing he was planning to give it to her on next Valentine's Day, yet now the two of them were once again not speaking to one another.

  He'd love to strangle his father, and demand to know what manner of curse he'd put on the hapless couple, but Mars was nowhere to be found. So Kayleigh sat at her desk, sobbing into a box of tissues, Thomas drove in a dazed stupor that might result in his untimely demise, and Mars was too busy to even enjoy fruit of his labor. Cupid slung his quiver across his back and snatched his bow. They were small weapons against the greater power his father wielded, but it was all he had.

  "Going somewhere?" The chilling voice stopped him in his tracks.

  "Grandmother," he said slowly, dropping to one knee in obeisance. He lowered his head and drew in a deep breath, hoping to still the flutters in his breast.

  Juno was Goddess of the Gods, wife of Jupiter. She was beautiful, perhaps even more so than his own mother. Venus's beauty was coupled with desire. All men who looked upon her - except her son - were driven nearly insane with a need to fill her. She was lovely, yes, but lust clouded mortal vision. They could not see that she was also vain, quick-tempered, and possessed a malicious streak that had no doubt been what first attracted his father.

  Juno's beauty was not perceived through lustful eyes. Her smooth complexion, silken hair and olive eyes were set against a backdrop of maturity and wisdom. She could be hard, but never cruel. Her punishments were severe, but never unjust, and Cupid adored her. He feared her - she made his heart pound, the ringing of bells echoed in his ears, and at times he felt near faint, as though he could scarce draw breath into his lungs.

  "In what manner of sport are you and that witless son of mine now engaged!"

  He gulped, fearful that if he were not on the receiving end of her anger, his father would be, and it would no doubt trickle back to him anyway. "Tis but a wager, grandmother," he mumbled, trying to make light it. 'Twas the wrong answer.

  "A wager! A moment for your amusement, but the outcome could be disastrous to all mortal life! Have you no shame, child!"

  Child! He was not a child, why could she not see it! Perhaps because he had acted like one. He bowed his head, dropped the other knee as well, and touched his forehead to the ground. It was the formal posture, one only the youngest of the gods were expected to assume, or any god who through raising Juno's ire had cause to fear for their continued existence.

  "Forgive me, my queen," he said sincerely. "I spoke wrongly. Yea, I know 'tis no simple matter. My heart grieves, and if I could recant the wager, I would. I have no wish to assume the future of an entire world upon my youthful shoulders. I bow to your greater wisdom, grandmother. Speak, and I shall obey." The formal apology was not as hard to give as it once had been, for he had had many eons to practice. He had been a willful child, prankish in nature, and had oft been required to kiss the floor at her feet.

  "Arise, child," she sighed, lifting his chin with the tip of a finger.

  Chapter Two

  Cupid stood, but he kept his eyes averted. Mortals were forbidden to look directly into the face of their gods, but the restriction did not apply to gods unless they were themselves in disgrace. He would not gaze at her until he had been fully forgiven.

  "There may yet be a way out of this mess," she said thoughtfully.

  He heard the swish of her robes as she paced in a circle around him. A hint of lavender swirled around his nose, and he fought back a sneeze. Sometimes he missed being that cuddly little child. Before, when she'd caught him in a prank, she would swiftly - and painfully - chastise him, but then she would just hold him. He would snuggle in close, drying his tears in her silken hair, and play with the strand of beads she wore about her neck. She would kiss him then, and tell him how much she loved him. It had been many years since he'd heard any god speak of love. Not even his mother. Perhaps that was what drove him to bring mortals together.

  "Has Ares yet chosen his victims?"

  Cupid fought back a smile. Juno persisted in calling her son by the name the Greeks had given him, although she herself preferred her Roman name. He'd questioned her on it once, and had been sharply cuffed for it. He suspected that it was simply to annoy his father. The Greeks bore little love or respect for Ares, who represented the most brutal and violent aspects of war, but was believed to be not very clever. The ancient Greeks despised war, and saw it as a failure on their part to settle disputes by more civilized means. The Romans, however, adored Mars, and worshipped him above all other gods, for not only was he the father of Romulus and Remus - the twin founders of Rome, but warfare had made them into one of the strongest, most powerful empires of the world.

  "No, grandmother. He has not. Or if he has, he has not yet enlightened me."

  "Good."

  She started to withdraw then, although she had not yet released him. He had to stop her, or remain standing for days - even weeks - until she remembered him. Yet, to speak to her out of turn could add fuel to her fury. He gulped, wiping his palms on his thighs. Yea, he was a child, if fear could still turn him to such a witless lump.

  "Grandmother?" he whispered.

  She paused at the door. He couldn't see her expression, but the fine hairs on his forearms fairly sizzled under the intensity of her gaze.

  "Yes," she said coldly.

  "May I ask, what is your plan?"

  "You may ask," she snapped. Then she laughed, as though something suddenly struck her as funny. "Cupid, may I have but one of your arrows?"

  In his eagerness to fulfill the simple request, he nearly spilled the entire quiver upon the floor. "Verily, Grandmother! You know that I am yours to command."

  "Do not tell Ares about our little chat, or my possession of the arrow, and I shall forgive you, this once."

  He let out the breath he had been holding, feeling slightly dizzy. His relief was short-lived.

  "I shall have to think upon a suitable punishment for your careless treatment of the mortal realm, for you cannot escape your culpability in this matter. However,
you are forgiven. Now, grant me a kiss."

  Dread washed through him. If he won the wager, he would no doubt suffer his father's wrath. If he lost, all of earth would suffer. And win or lose, he would face Juno's divine punishment. Briefly, he wondered if he could just beg Jupiter to rotate the earth backwards a day or two, and he would not repeat the same mistakes. Unfortunately, that had had violent repercussions in the past, spawning all manner of earthquakes, volcanoes and terrible storms until the molten core settled right again. Grabbing his quiver that was light one arrow, he flew swiftly to earth to bring a little happiness to the weary world.

  How long did it take to burn a steak! Unless the foul wench had gone out back to butcher the fatted steer first! She ought to have warned him, or at least brought him another plate of Benedictines to tide him over until the feast was prepared. He glowered at the remaining customers, hastening them out, and sealed the door behind them until there was naught in the building save the cook, the wench, and himself. And after his meal was served, he might just send the cook on his way, as well.

  Finally the wench appeared, bearing a plate of thick, juicy steak. In her other hand was a tray laden with baked potatoes, a bowl of greens, sauces, seasonings, and a tall glass of iced tea. Setting everything on the table before him, she slid onto the bench opposite.

  "You're not good for business, I'm afraid," she said, looking around the small diner. "Everybody took one look at you and disappeared."

  "Except you, fair wench. Has my countenance not given you pause?"

  "Eh, it's not bad. Really. But then, I like 'em tall, dark, and dangerous. Just ask Duke, my last boyfriend. He's only got six more years before he can make parole, but I'm not going to hang around and wait."

  Irritation spread through his loins at the mention of a boyfriend, although this parole did not sound favorable. Yea, if she had a boyfriend already, it would only make Cupid's task that much harder. She would have to unlove the one to marry the appointed target. He speared another chunk of steak, grinning as the red juices spilled across his plate.

  "You certainly do enjoy your food," she commented. "I ought to tell the cook. He likes a compliment from time to time."

  A man who did a woman's task was unworthy of compliments. "Tell me, maid. What has soured you on the frivolities of Cupid's day?"

  "Huh? Do you mean Valentine's Day? What a crock. As if lovers needed a day to remember to say, "I love you". What are they not saying the other three hundred sixty odd days of the year? It's just another example of capitalism at its worst. A way to worship the almighty dollar. Frankly, I'd rather have a tooth pulled."

  'T would be a shame to pull such pretty teeth. They were even and white and not overly large. Her full lips curved like Cupid's bow.

  "But men are not often given to such frivolities of spirit as to discuss their feelings for their bed mate. Without such a day, they might never utter the words. 'Tis my understanding that most women need frequent protestations of love to believe that it exists."

  "Well, I'm not like most women," the waitress admitted. Her luscious blue eyes took on an other-worldly cast, as though she were gazing at the steps of Mount Olympus. Perchance he would take her there, after the wager's favorable outcome. "Besides, if a guy were going to spout poetry to me, I'd rather he'd written it himself, instead of sticking a stamp on a greeting card. Somehow that just lacks any true emotion."

  Ah, so the wench preferred poets! 'Twas good to know. Mars would need to chose a man's man, one of few words and none of them tender, to win the wager.

  "Guys tend to fall into two categories. The wimps and the losers. At least, all the ones I've ever dated. The butt-kisser wimps will do or say whatever they think you want to hear, just so they can get into your pants. And the losers, well, they just want someone to cook and clean and bang, at least when they're sober enough to fool around. Guess I'll stay single, because the mold for Mr. Right broke a long time ago."

  " 'Tis fair strange speech, yet I get the gist of it. And I thank thee for passing the meal in my company. May I escort you somewhere?"

  She stood up quickly and smoothed her hands down the front of the tiny apron girding her trim hips. "Screw you. Here's your bill, and just leave the change on the table. When I come back, you'd better not still be hanging around, or I'm calling the cops."

  Mars chuckled as she stormed back through the metal doors. Aye, what a wench! What a saucy, unstable woman! She would require a firm hand on that rounded bottom, long and hard and often. His loins quickened, and Mars was half tempted to name himself the target for Cupid's arrow, except the boy's spells would not work on a god. He would have to find a mortal much like himself, though, and he would greatly enjoy watching their troubled courtship for however brief it lasted!

  Juno shook her head as she watched the scene being played out in the diner. Mars was making a spectacle of himself, so besotted with the girl he was. Yet if he felt himself unlucky in love, it was only that he loved unwisely. While inside he wanted a faithful wife, a loving mother for his children, a model of virtue and domesticity, he tended to chase after a pretty skirt without a brain in her head, or a shrewd self-centered manipulator. And there was none more self-serving than Cupid's mother! Jupiter had wanted to annul Venus's marriage with Vulcan and force her to marry Mars, giving their love-child the father and stability he deserved, but Juno had known their relationship was doomed from the start.

  Keeping the gods in line was at times more work than running an entire galaxy! Mars had been a thorn in her side for centuries. It was time to do something about it, once and for all. If he won this wager and endangered her favorite planet, then she would simply have to end his annoying existence. Cupid would not know that not only must he win in order to save the planet, but to save his father, as well.

  'Twas a misconception among the immortal that they were immune to their own magic. If they realized how easily she could manipulate them, they would be outraged! And their quarreling would only escalate. No, 'twas simpler if they continued to believe as they wished. She could be a master of discretion. Still, she swirled Cupid's arrow in a potent cauldron to magnify its effect before carefully concealing it in the swell of a voluminous sleeve. Then she sent a servant with her summons for Mars to appear before her immediately.

  Shortly she sensed his arrival in the central courtroom. Juno smiled, letting him pace impatiently for a time. It was necessary to remind him of his position. Mars was entirely too full of himself these days. Then she straightened, setting her chin at a haughty angle, and floated onto the dais.

  "It's about time," Mars muttered.

  Juno let her icy glare slide over him, and was pleased to see him wince. He went down on a knee as was custom, although he sprang back up without waiting for her invitation. 'T would be best if she made him kneel again. By the gods, it was easy enough to annoy him.

  "Hold your tongue, my son. I'll not tolerate your insolence."

  He had the grace to blush, yet still he stood, shoulders squared as though prepared for battle. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering again at the turn of events that had shaped him. Once long ago he had been happy. Young, handsome, stalwart. The god of farms and fertility. His broad shoulders and burly muscles were better suited to the plow than the sword. With his dark, piercing gaze and wide smile, he had turned the heads of many ladies and not a few goddesses.

  How he used to suffer when Pluto and Neptune worked together to bring up a storm that devastated his crops, or when the oft-warring mortal barbarians burned his fields. Only later, when the Romans who worshipped him prayed that he not only defend their farms but lead them in victory against their enemies had he taken up his sword. And finally, when Venus spurned his affections he buried whatever tender thoughts he might have retained beneath a thick facade of indifference.

  "Why must you continue to goad my grandson? Have you no care for the consequences?"

  "I care not for mortals," he said with a shrug.

  "But w
hat of Cupid? You know his foolishness cannot go unpunished."

  "The boy is too old for whippings."

  "Perhaps. But not too old to clip his wings."

  Mars paled visibly. He glanced at her, but quickly lowered his eyes. Gulping whatever snide remark he had been about to make, he went down on both knees. "Please, mother. Do not treat him so harshly. The fault is mine."

  Triumph brought a smile to her lips. Yea, his love for winning he had inherited from her. "He is no longer a child, Mars, but a young god. He must accept responsibility for his actions. He knows better than to let you manipulate him."

  "If you clip his wings, mother, I shall not win fairly."

  She laughed, but the sound was not pleasant. "Oh, I shall not punish him just yet. You will play out your game to its natural conclusion. But win or lose, I shall punish Cupid severely. So enjoy your little wager if you can."

  "Mother, please. I beg your forgiveness. "Twas meant as a harmless jest. But if your wrath must be appeased, I pray you take it out on me. Spare my son!" Finally, Mars placed his hands upon the marble floor and lowered his forehead in the ultimate gesture of submission. Juno took a moment to savor her victory. Then she drove Cupid's arrow through the back to pierce his heart. He gasped at the sharp sting, but then his eyes glazed over and his will was captured. He would remember little of their encounter, and the stab of the arrow not at all.

  "Larissa Mirit Langdon," Juno murmured, creating an image of the mortal for him to gaze upon. His eyes widened, his breath caught. His lips parted on a quick intake of breath, even as lust surged through his loins. "The mortal waitress you met earlier today. Your fondness for her will grow, filling that empty vessel you call a heart, until you think only of her needs and not your own. However, she is in danger now. Be swift! Hurry to her rescue, or you will never know happiness again!"

  Mars leaped to his feet. With barely a nod in her direction, he sprang to the window and soared through the clouds, his gaze trained on earth and the one woman who could give his eternal existence meaning. The arrow's magic had already overpowered him.