Page 1 of Hit By the Cupid Stick

Chapter 1

Elodie idly sipped at thefluffy pink drink some man at the bar had sent to her in anunoriginal bid for her attention. Some Valentine’s Day special withcandy hearts floating in the frothy top. The holiday was only daysaway. She really was more of a whiskey girl, but if the poor shmuckwanted to pay for her drink, she wasn’t going to argue.

The uber confident man,dressed to the nines in a three-piece power suit, hair perfectlystyled, teeth perfectly white, flashed her a smile and lifted hisown glass in her direction. She caught the blip of hesitation thatmatched his aura, so she threw him a bone and tipped her drink inthanks.

She didnot smile. Smiling wouldbe an invitation, and three-piece-suit guy wasn’t hertarget.

The man next to him, however…

Dressed casually inthreadbare jeans and a t-shirt that looked as if he’d slept in it,her prey ran his fingers through shaggy, dirty-blond hair thatneeded a cut. Not a single woman in here was giving him a secondlook. There was only one reason Elodie was.

That aura.

The colored haze floatingaround him was as clear to Elodie as the crystals in her favoritebracelet. Not black, like many of the men she hunted, his was amuddy mix of brown, grey, orange, and red. Studying auras was likea siren’s road map of the human soul, telling her the mostimportant information of who and what a person was in thatmoment.

She’d never—not in her twohundred years, seen a mix of colors quite like this.Self-involvement. Hopelessness. Self-control. Aggression. Andanger. Lots and lots of anger.

As a siren, her job was to lure unsuspectingmen to their deaths.

It had taken her only asingle kill, when she’d matured and the hunger of her inner monsterhad first come upon her, to realize that she couldn’t do what shedid to good men.But to men who deserved it? Violent men. Abusive men. Those whoposed serious threats to women, children, or innocent animals...Yeah. She had no problem ridding the world of theirkind.

Three-piece-suit tipped hisglass again, like she hadn’t seen him a second ago.

What Elodie wanted to dowas roll her eyes. What she did was lift her left hand and point tothe diamond ring winking on her fourth finger. The ring she’d justslipped on under the bar. The one she’d bought herself just to dealwith crap like this.

Three-piece-suit shruggedlike that wasn’t a problem and she briefly toyed with the idea ofteaching him a lesson, just a peek at her monster, before she dealtwith muddy-aura-guy beside him. But the suit was harmless. His aurawas almost entirely yellow. He wanted to be alpha, but he was morelike a puppy dog panting for attention.

Give him a scrap and he’dnever leave her alone. Deliberately she swiveled the stool, turningaway.

“I hope you haven’t setyour heart on the one I’m after,” a deep, annoyingly familiar voiceteased from behind her. “Because I have dibs.”

Chance Eroson.

A royal pain in Elodie’s perfectly formedass.

Elodie closed her eyes andreached for patience. Sirens were supposed to be known for thatparticular character trait, but she never had been like hersisters.

“Chance,” she acknowledged,pasting an insincere smile to her lips as she faced him.

Even knowing what toexpect, impressions still hit in rapid succession. Broad shoulders,trim hips, a face somewhere between rugged and boy-next-door withfloppy sandy-colored hair that somehow still appeared styled, andlaughing blue eyes. Always laughing, at least at her. Unlike thatpanting puppy at the bar, Chance wore his three-piece suit—the suitdidn’t wear him. The red tie was a nice, if obvious, touch givenwhat he was and the upcoming holiday.

If sin had a face, it wouldlook like Chance Eroson. The man was as handsome as they came. Thenagain, a cupid would be. A child of gods, and a god himself, if aminor one, the man was genetically blessed. Same as Elodie. Whichshould make her immune.

It didn’t. Which was the most frustratingpart.

Wanting him was a characterflaw she hadn’t ever given into. As long as she didn’t countgetting herself off to thoughts of him. Which Elodiedidn’t.

Worse, his aurawas…nothing. No color surrounded him. She’d found the same to betrue of any creatures gifted with extra-long life and supernaturalpowers. Dragon shifters, berserkers, demigods, witches, it didn’tmatter.

Did it bother her that she couldn’t get aread on him?

Absolutely. But she’d never admit it to himthe same way she’d never admit to wanting him.

He’d better not be afterthe guy she was hunting.

Since arriving in New Yorksome hundred years ago, she and Chance had clashed every so often.Usually when he wanted to hook some couple up, shoot them full ofarrows that would make them fuck like rabbits and fall in love, andshe had to intervene. The last time, he’d almost convinced her thatthe man in question would let go of his evil thoughts, thoughts theguy had never acted, for the right woman. That she would give theman a better outlook on life. A better outlet for his kind ofenergy too.

Almost. That man’s aura hadtold her a different story though.

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