Soul in Darkness Read online

  Ultimately, Venus still wanted the youngest princess to marry a monster, but she was entertained in the meantime with tales of Psyche’s “misery” from the mouth of her son. At first, he did not believe his actions were causing her true misery, only mild confusion and irritating dramatics. After a year of his meddling antics, however, he began to see the toll they were taking on the princess.

  Cupid ached, knowing it was his actions that had caused her smile to disappear. He had kept Psyche, and every possible suitor, from falling in love with one another. He had lured the men to other women with his whispers and arrows. He had even allowed himself to be spotted by her in his Leodes form during her sister’s wedding, wondering how the sight of him might affect her.

  To perceive her excitement when she spotted him had been even more satisfying than he had envisioned, though the self-indulging moment had filled him with unfamiliar guilt afterward. The moment, when he followed her back to her room and witnessed her breakdown, had been the closest he had come to revealing himself to her, an act that would have crushed every ounce of trust between him and his mother.

  The balancing act of keeping both women he loved happy was becoming precarious. Impossible.

  “Did she cry herself to sleep again?” Venus asked, sipping her goblet of nectar as she lounged on the soft grass by her fountain.

  “Just as the night before and the one before that,” Cupid told her, not exaggerating when it came to Psyche’s brokenness. He would have to put a stop to this soon. With each day, her despair deepened. It became more and more difficult not to show himself or comfort her in some way.

  “And do the people still leave gifts for her?”

  Cupid swallowed. His mother could detect lies as easily as any other god. Cupid was clever with half-truths, simply omitting the parts that would make her unhappy.

  “Yes, Mother. The people are still unfaithful.”

  Her pretty mouth pursed. “And my nearby altars are still barren. Just as I should have left their queen’s womb. So be it.” She narrowed her eyes at Cupid, and he held his breath. It always shocked him to see her beauty transform from warm to shrewd so quickly. “I bore of toying with her. It is time to end this.”

  Cupid’s jaw tightened, but he gave a nod of understanding. He had to be cunning where Venus was concerned. He would have to find a way to appease his mother, and still claim Psyche as his own. “I will seek the perfect husband.” The words would have burned his mouth if he were not certain he would never allow her to be hurt. And if anyone were to be her husband, it was him.

  His mother’s head tilted, her perceptive eyes taking him in. “In all this time you have not yet found a man miserable enough to punish the woman who makes a fool of us?”

  He gave an indifferent shrug. “I have been focused on other factors.”

  “Really.” It was a soft declaration, not a question, and the gentleness of her tone put him on edge.

  “I will start today.” He began to pack his things when her voice rang out to him again, sending a chill up his spine.

  “If I find that you linger too long, I will take care of this myself.”

  Cupid roughly shoved an arrow into his quiver. “Your lack of trust is disheartening, Mother.”

  She sat up. “You are right, my dear son, because trust is everything. And I lost a piece of yours when you came out of that trance. Do you think I am not aware of your lack of enthusiasm for punishing this human who hurts me every day? Do you have any idea how my heart breaks to feel I have lost not only the people’s love but yours?”

  Her eyes welled with emotion, the sight punching Cupid in the chest.

  “My love has always been yours,” he told her with every ounce of devotion he had for her. “But we do not share a mind. I swore to avenge you, and I will. In my own way and my own time.”

  She stood gracefully, moving closer, her eyes fierce. “What is your way? Hm? Tell me your plan. Why do you stall?”

  Cupid gritted his teeth, swinging the bow over his shoulder. “Your questions are insulting—”

  “You still want her!” Venus all but growled like a lioness on the warpath. “Admit it! And do not dare to lie!”

  The god’s chest rose and fell too quickly. He had been hoping with all his might to avoid another confrontation with his mother, but she was unflinching where Psyche was concerned.

  Venus’s eyes fluttered shut. “I will never forgive her for the rift she has caused between us.”

  Cupid surged forward, her undue hatred for the innocent girl making him lose his wits. “She has done nothing. Not to you, not to me, not to anyone!”

  “You believe you have encountered a perfect human?” Venus laughed.

  “I never said she was perfect.” Though, she was as close to that notion as he had ever found in a human or god, for that matter. Oh, how he had wished she would do something horrible—it would make the situation far simpler—but each day her words and actions only softened his heart further, drawing him in.

  “Then tell me, precious son, what are her shortcomings?” Venus crossed her arms, head tilted in a challenge.

  Cupid opened his mouth, but his mind slowed. Stars and sky. What were her faults? “She…cannot carry a tune.” That was true, but he found himself holding back a smile at the thought of her discordant humming as she walked the castle lands or singing to herself in her room, making the cat dart under her bed. How could he find such a mundane flaw to be so adorable?

  “That is all you can manage to fault her?” Disappointment tumbled over Venus’s features as her arms fell to her side. “She will grow old when you blink, son. Her beauty is not long for this world.”

  “I care not for her beauty,” Cupid breathed, remaining steady. It was her soul that drew him each and every day. Her soul that nourished him as the sun sustained a lonesome tree in a field. “I beg you to see reason. We can find another way to punish her parents and the fools in town who worship her.”

  Venus took her son’s face in her hands, peering up at him. “Everything I say and do when it comes to you is said and done in love. Someday, I trust you will see my actions for what they are.”

  This time Cupid was prepared for his mother’s wrath. He’d been drunk on love potion last time, but now his mind was clear. When Venus struck out, Cupid flung his arms to the side, breaking the shackles before they could buckle around him. Venus stepped back, her glare as sharp as daggers. Part of his heart was murdered by that look from her.

  “I am not your enemy,” he told her. “Nor will I be your prisoner.”

  She flung out her hands, manacles appearing from nowhere. But Cupid did the same, his power causing the shackles to fly from his ankles before they could connect. Venus frowned at his control, her eyes welling again.

  “She does not deserve your touch,” his mother whispered. “Do you not see that I am trying to keep you from heartache? One look at your face and she will be mesmerized by your perfection—aroused by your essence. No mortal can love you. Not in the way you seek.”

  Her words struck him precisely as she had intended, for it was his deepest fear to never be truly loved.

  “Then I will not allow her to see my face.”

  Venus’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You jest.”

  “No.” He eyed his mother with full seriousness. “Tell me you will allow me to try, without interference, and I will prove myself, and her in the process.”

  She glared. “You are proposing a compromise? A bargain?”

  This was highly dangerous territory, but he could see no other way. His nod of agreement was rigid. A roll of parchment appeared in one of Venus’s hands, an inked quill in the other. A slow smile crept onto her face as she brushed the feather across her delicate chin. “There will be rules, of course.”

  “I have no doubt there will be.” He had seen his mother strike bargains with others and it was never in their favor.

  “You will have a time limit of two human weeks to make her love you.”

>   He schooled his face. “Make it two human months.”

  “One,” she compromised.

  He gave a stiff nod, and she wrote the rule on the parchment.

  “She must declare her love verbally within one month. Agreed?”

  With gritted teeth, he nodded, and she wrote.

  “She will not lay eyes on you or place her hands on you.”

  That gave him pause. “But I can touch her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Agreed. Let us sign.” He reached for the quill.

  Venus laughed and turned away, tucking the scroll to her chest. “Oh, my boy, I am only getting started.” She paced, enjoying herself far too much. “You cannot tell Psyche your identity or mine. She, her family, and all those pathetic townspeople must believe you are a monster. Even your voice shall be altered.”

  She giggled when she spotted the terse frown on his face. “Do you doubt your abilities to woo a woman with a few small restrictions?”

  “She will be terrified.”

  His mother lifted an eyebrow, grinning wickedly.

  “Is that all?” he ground out.

  “I think not.” She went on to outline the many things he could and could not say or do. No comforting her with words like, “I will not hurt you,” or, “You are safe.” So many details. This would not be the simple mission he had had in mind, but he was the god of love. His true intentions would shine through and speak to her soul; he had to believe that.

  “If you fail after one month’s time or any of these rules are broken, she becomes mine to punish as I please.”

  Cupid stood ramrod straight. “I will never allow you to kill her, even if I fail.”

  “I never said I would kill her,” she admonished. “You know that is not my style. My punishment of the mortal will only happen if, and when, one of you breaks the heart of the other because that is what is in store for this cursed match. At that point, you might not care quite as much.”

  “I will care!” he all but snarled. “Amend your words.”

  Venus spun a hand in the air, thinking. “Then I will give her a journey. A series of tasks to complete. Something to push her to her mortal limits.” When Cupid attempted to argue, Venus held up a finger. “This is perfectly reasonable.”

  The god pressed his lips together, discerning, tunneling his way through his mother’s proposition to find all the possible ways he could fail and put Psyche at risk. Venus would never make a deal unless she believed she could win. He could not pretend it did not hurt that she thought Psyche would never love him, and that heartache was inevitable, even though logic told him it was the mortal girl who his mother doubted, not him. It still stung. Venus had always been his greatest ally. Now, in his first venture of love, she was to be his greatest foe.

  “Do you agree to these terms?” she asked.

  “You are not to come to my lands during the month or send anyone.”

  “I agree,” she said.

  Cupid stood before her at full height, unsmiling, more apprehensive than he had ever felt. “I agree, as well.”

  They both signed, then clasped one another at the forearm. An invisible band of godly magic warmed their joined limbs, sealing the deal. Both would have to honor their end of the bargain, and he hoped to the skies beyond that his mother would not find a loophole to cause trouble. Venus wore a mixture of expressions that her son couldn’t quite read. Worry for him, perhaps? But it warred with her utter contempt for Psyche. Cupid would prove her wrong, and when he did, she would come around to accepting the woman he loved. She had to.

  He gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Cupid?” He peered over his shoulder at her motherly smile. “When she proves to be a mere mortal, incapable of what you desire, I will accept your apology.”

  Cupid huffed through his nose like a bull and charged away from the infuriating goddess. He opened his wings in a snap to spray water from the fountain in every direction as he headed to prepare his home. As he flew, he wondered how he would earn the love of a mortal woman, who thought him a monster, and then he remembered this was Psyche. The girl who took in mountain lion cubs. She wasn’t as easily frightened as most.

  At least he hoped she wasn’t, because love could not grow where fear and distrust had lodged. He could only hope her instincts were strong.

  ONE MONTH

  The task of wooing Psyche was the most difficult undertaking of his immortal life. For the first time in history, Cupid found himself surprised over and over again and ultimately humbled. Was this what it felt like to be human? Impossible time limitations looming every minute of every day? Lacking the charm of a mesmerizing voice and perfect physical prowess?

  On day one, the way her bright eyes had flickered around his being with sheer terror—that had gutted him and caused his first moment of self-doubt. Then, to add the stabbing fact that she fancied herself in love with the fake human version of himself, Leodes? The cruel paradox! Especially as time wore on and her body gave itself away, softening to him even as her mind begged her to keep him at arm’s length. He had nearly been driven mad by the succulent berry scent of her arousal, winding itself around him like a flowering vine that would strike with thorns if you dared a caress.

  It had been one mishap after the next, a learning curve to be sure. He had attempted to show her how nice his affections could be. Let me kiss you, hold you, bring you to the apex of pleasure, but no! His ministrations were felt as forced and unwanted, riddling him with guilt. Let me bring you the bugs and animals you miss so much, but no! Without specifying what creatures to secure, the dim-witted Zephyr had brought flesh burning ants and cats that could eat his wife whole.

  But he had no time to learn and try again. Each mistake cost him precious time. And Cupid was not accustomed to making mistakes. Indeed, he was not accustomed to consequences of any kind, causing his patience for the process of falling in love to be weak at best. However, at no stage did his feelings for her lessen. Often, to calm himself while she gave off fumes of anger and fear, he would rub the mountain cub bauble in his pocket, reminding himself what was at stake, and to be patient.

  His chest ached thinking about that first time she sought his mouth, wanting to kiss him. How his heart had become a radiant starburst within his chest at the small act.

  Cupid knew love. Love was his job. He knew Psyche loved him two days before she had realized it herself. They were down to mere days until the month would be over. Days! He was desperate to ease her mind, so she would voice those feelings. That was all she had to do. Say the words. If only he could tell her!

  But it did not work that way with humans. They had to be shown. One had to prove oneself beyond measure, and even then, they doubted.

  He was at this state of desperation when Psyche admitted how horribly homesick she was. To be honest, in all the time he had studied her, Cupid had never taken much notice of her sisters. He did not know their personalities. The fact that Psyche missed them made him believe they must be similar to her.

  It went against his every instinct to allow them passage. Venus had not given a rule against visitors, and Cupid knew why. Visitors would make his wife miss home and could possibly fill her mind with doubts and fears. Visitors would complicate their delicate arrangement. He had purposely limited the amount of his staff she could speak with for this very reason. But those limitations had backfired. He believed her extreme loneliness was the one thing standing between them, so he made a rash decision.

  One hour was all it took. Psyche did what no other being, mortal or immortal, had ever done.

  She broke Cupid’s heart.

  He would never forget how gorgeous she was, leaning toward him, long hair falling around her, awash in the dim candlelight, her eyes vivid with awe. Cupid had not realized at first what was happening until her expression changed to horror, and her bright soul took on a dulled haze of regret.

  The candle.

  Her eyes looking directly into his.

  The k
nife.

  The panic Cupid had felt as he jumped out of bed had been monumental. If he had extracted that pure emotion and shot it down from Olympus, an earthly city would have crumbled to ruin. So he had carefully hidden it within himself as he took his wife’s arms.

  “Quickly,” he had said. “Tell me how you feel, Psyche.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Not an apology! Your feelings!”

  “I feel horrible,” she’d shouted.

  “Your feelings about me!”

  “I love you!”

  Yes. His chest had filled with heat as his immortal heart expanded. Glorious Olympus and all that was eternal! Hearing those words had made him want to cry. Could he cry? He never had before, but his eyes burned in the strangest manner.

  Psyche had broken the rules, ending their deal, but she said the words out loud just minutes afterward. Would his mother have mercy? Doubtful. But perhaps he could strike another deal!

  “I will fix this,” he had promised Psyche, quickly leaving to catch his mother before she came to them. As long as he kept Venus away from Psyche, his wife would be safe. Nobody could pluck the goddess of love’s heartstrings quite like her son. He would fix this.

  He knew the moment he touched down at his mother’s elaborate fountain that it was too late. Her chariot of precious gems and the rainbow-necked doves that pulled it were gone. Cupid had no doubt she had immediately left to claim her rightful win when she felt the pull of the broken binding.

  The god of love cursed into the skies as he flew faster than his wings had ever moved, back to his palace. Why had he left Psyche there alone with no one to guard her? How could he have been so impulsive? Would his wife think quickly enough to hide herself? Not that the goddess would be outsmarted, but if she gave her the runabout until he could arrive…