If Lexi Mariner hadn't been so drunk she never would have set the cupid trap and never would have caught the cupid, but she had been drunk—slurry and piss-on-the-world drunk—and her friend Jenna the self-styled Witch hadn't wanted to talk to her on the phone at 11:30 PM about what Lexi should do with Ross Endicot, not when Lexi was in one of her moods, and not since she'd already told Lexi a hundred times that she was an idiot to go after Ross just for his money, and she especially didn't want to talk to Lexi because Jenna was already setting a cupid-trap of her own.
Lexi had been in the kitchen of her high-rise condo, leaning against the sink and drinking wine out of a hand-blown glass the size of a grapefruit.
"Cupid trap?" Lexi asked into the phone. "What kind of bullshit is that, Jenna? You're crazy as shit, you know that?"
"Then leave me alone and go to bed, Lexi."
"No." The rest of her condo was dark and empty and she didn't want to face it, so she was stubborn. "Tell me. What's a cupid trap?"
She walked unsteadily into the living room and looked out at the city below. She had a great view and talking to her friends from this height always made her feel superior and above them all, even when she was staggering drunk.
Jenna sighed. "It's an old superstition, just a tangle of red thread you set up in a room the night before Valentine's day with some little toys and candy. Then when cupid flies through your room his plans get caught in it and you dream about your true love."
"True love?" Lexi asked. The notion struck her as so pitifully quaint that she couldn't even laugh. "What? Do you put some posies in your pantaloons too? Is cupid like Santa Claus now? Flies through your windows or something? Jenna, you're so full of shit, you should have been a lawyer."
"No, thanks, Lexi. I'll leave that to you. Anyhow it's just a superstition, something you do, like hanging stockings on Christmas."
"I don't hang stockings on Christmas, baby, I wear them. And did I tell you what Carri told me that Ross said about my legs?"
"Lexi, I have to go."
"Go?" Lexi pouted, but Jenna had been trying to scrape her off the phone for the last half hour and she wasn't getting any satisfaction out of talking to her. "Sure, Jenna. Go set up your trap, and happy cupid-hunting, honey. Maybe you'll dream about that copy-machine guy you told me about. Hey, what is it with you and men with dirty hands anyhow?"
"Good night, Lexi."
"Does it turn you on or something? Because you know Ross has this stable full of vintage sports cars—"
Click.
Lexi stared at the phone. "Bitch."
She scrolled through her speed dial index looking for someone else to call, but she'd pretty much used up all her available friends. The wine was almost gone too, and her plan to force Ross into calling her by not calling him had turned into a total bust. She thought about calling him now and hanging up, just for the malicious joy of waking him, but he probably had caller ID and would figure out it had been her.
She glided through her condo in drunken boredom, then put the wine glass in the dishwasher and threw the empty bottle in the trash. The gourmet kitchen was immaculate. Lexi never cooked. She went into the living room and picked up the remote and clicked through the channels on the plasma screen, but there was nothing on, so she turned it off and went in the bathroom, brushed her teeth and combed out her red hair, then went into the bedroom and still pouting, slipped off her robe and climbed into bed.
In five minutes she was up, though, and digging through her knitting supplies.
What the hell?
she thought. The knitting had been a fad, and she hadn't been any better at it than she was at any other craft she'd tried. The yarn wasn't pure red, more of a burgundy, but she took it into the spare bedroom she used as a home office and started pulling the yarn from the skein, letting it pile up on the floor.
No, that wasn't right, something told her. That was just a mess of yarn. She picked it up and tied one end to a bookend, then began to string the yarn back and forth across the room, from the computer desk to the daybed, and from there to the old Herman Miller chair that no longer matched her living room décor—up to the bookshelf and down to the Ficus, then around the chair and back and forth, growing dizzy and giggly as she wove a web in the room, going back and forth till the yarn was all used up and Lexi was br4eathless and strangely excited. She realized that she was trapped in the web she'd created, and had to crawl and wiggle her way out in her tee-shirt and panties as the yarn tickled her bare arms and legs.
Out in the hallway once again, though, she felt suddenly let down and foolish, and she realized she had no candy or toys to leave in the room. She reached into her panties and pulled out a few pubic hairs and sprinkled them on the floor, then closed the door and went to bed.
She had a big day tomorrow with a client tomorrow and the Ross was taking her out for dinner. If Cupid got stuck in there she didn't want him waking her up.
*****
She was in too much of a rush in the morning to even remember the trap, nor did the discrete hearts and cupids at the law office do much to remind her. Ross sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and it was only then that she remembered clambering around between the stretched strands of yarn in her home office and how silly it had been. She's have to take all that down and straighten up before she invited him up for drinks, but she'd do that after she changed out of her work clothes.
As she walked back to her bedroom she passed the closed door and felt a twinge of embarrassment, and then she heard a thump.
A loud thump.
Something was in there—something big. She knew it in the pit of her stomach and the bottom of her throat. The fine hairs stood up on the back of her arms.
Another bump, and a scraping sound, a muttered word that sounded like "Shit!" from behind the closed door.
Lexi didn't scare easily and now she was too astonished to be afraid. She grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, and there, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, covered in burgundy yarn, was Cupid.
Well, she assumed he was Cupid. He was probably the most beautiful man she'd ever seen in her life, with intensely blue eyes and sun-bronzed skin and a head of deliciously wild, jet black curls. He was wearing one of those Greek-style togas that hung from one shoulder and ended in a kind of short skirt, and had the body of an Adonis. A bow and quiver of arrows lay next to him and he was glaring at her with a mixture of anger and god-like intensity that all but stopped her heart.
"Happy, now?" he asked her.
She opened and closed her mouth several times, then asked, "Who the fuck are you?"
Rather than answer he unfolded a pair of enormous, white-feathered wings from his back—wings so wide they almost touched the far walls of the bedroom—and flapped them with a sensual, powerful stroke. Lexi felt the breeze on her face and detected a wonderfully erotic, subtly masculine odor, something richer and more primal than cologne. His wings lifted him gently off the ground a foot or two, and then spread wide, the feathers fanning to cushion himself as he fell gently back to the floor.
Lexi stared. "Oh my God!" she said. "I don't fucking believe it! You're Cupid!"
"I'm
Eros
," he corrected as the wings disappeared into his back. "The Greek original. Cupid's a Latin upstart. Or maybe I should say I'm
an
Eros, because there's a lot of us, you know. Love has many faces and takes many forms. I'm Eros Ektheto."
"But how'd you get in here? Don't tell me that stupid trap—"
"That stupid trap worked just fine," he said bitterly. "I don't know how you did it, but you wove it with real desire, so you caught me. Congratu-fucking-lations. Now there's going to be a shitload of mortals who don't get what they need because of you and your fucking trap."
"Nice mouth," she said. "Do all you cupids talk like that?"
"
Eros!
" he corrected. "And do all you women talk like you? We talk like we talk. You want harp music and schmaltz? Call Aphrodite. I'm Eros, honey—sexual desire. I know how you humans talk when I get a hold of you, so keep your hearts and flowers. I'm serious fucking business—excuse the pun—and you've screwed it up."
Lexi stared at him. Most of the yarn was still stretched in taut lines across the room, so she couldn't imagine how he got in there. "Stand up," she said. "Let me get a look at you."
Eros Ektheto got to his feet. He was absolutely, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. His skin was a kind of honey-bronze and he was muscular in a sculptural way—beautifully defined but not bulging. He was (and she hated to even say it to herself) built like a Greek God, yet even more impressive was the aura he gave off of pure, potent, masculine sexuality. As boyish as he looked, he seemed to exude some intoxicating male musk that smelled like sunshine and sea-water and darker, more mysterious and earthy things. It was a scent that made her nostrils flare and set her heart to racing. She felt as if the very air hummed around him with a delicious sexual threat that sent a strange thrill through her chest and made her warm between her legs.
She realized she was staring at him, and he was staring back in a way that showed he was amused by her fascination. To break the spell she asked, "What happened to your wings?" It was the only thing she could think to say.