Page 1 of Perfectly Matching Again

PROLOGUE

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

Cupids Convention… Vegas… 2 months ago…

Abby 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’sface 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.

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