Page 25 of Incurably Cupid

A strangled noise of frustration echoed from ahead."Argh!"

Chapter 9

Mesmer

“Love requires honesty.”

Cupid Inc. New Recruit Training Manual

As we took our seats, Lance guided me to the end of the table where there wasn’t a chair, and I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. This place wasenormous.Above us, a vast glass dome stretched overhead, allowing the soft pinks and purples of Devotion to filter through, while floor-to-ceiling glass walls surrounded the restaurant, making the space feel open and airy. Some of the glass doubled as smart screens, where students and faculty discreetly watched their favorite shows through earpieces, but most of it served no purpose beyond sheer beauty. The dome and walls reflected Devotion’s ethereal pink and purple skies, with puffy clouds drifting across, casting a soft glow. Though it was midday outside—and inside—the brightness had been expertly dimmed to create a romantic ambiance.

I’d noticed this kind of thoughtful design all over Devotion. The cupids had an innate understanding of romance—not justin theory, but in practice. They knew what love looked like, how it felt, and how to weave it seamlessly into everyday life. It wasn’t just in the way people treated each other, but in the very structure of their cities, the layout of their communities, and the atmosphere they created. It made perfect sense to me why so many paranormals chose this place for their honeymoons. Beyond the beauty and ambiance, you’d probably receive a relationship evaluation and a wealth of expert advice while you were here. And honestly? That advice was probably worth listening to. After all, no one knew love better than the cupids.

“It’s something, huh?” Indie said, dragging a potato wedge through some fry sauce before popping it into her mouth.

I shook my head in wonder. “What’s the success rate of your marriages?”

Mordecai, slurping on a chocolate shake, visibly winced at my question.

“Sorry,” I said. "I can't help but wonder."

“It’s fine,” he replied, though his voice was tight. “We’re at an eighty-nine percent success rate as of late last year.”

“Eighty-nine point five,” Indie corrected as the waiter arrived with our main entrees.

“That’s encouraging. I think paranormals sit around seventy-eight percent, and that includes those with soulmates.”

Indie placed a napkin on her lap and dug into her sub, potato salad, and chips while I did the same with my roast beef sandwich. Mordecai’s order was taking longer—he’d gone for chicken and vegetable curry. He eyed our plates morosely, and Indie, likely feeling sorry for him, pushed her appetizer toward him.

“Speaking of soulmates,” Indie said after swallowing a massive bite, “yours is someone you can only sense when you swap spit?”

Mordecai made a disgusted expression and dropped the potato wedge he’d just grabbed. He touched his stomach as though suddenly queasy. “Indie, really? While we’re eating?”

She frowned. “Why are you so touchy about this?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Is this proper mealtime conversation?”

Indie paused, considering as she chewed. “Yes.”

I chuckled. These two were all elbows and playful jabs, their rapport so natural that it was hard to believe they’d only been friends for a few weeks. They acted like they’d known each other forever.

“The correct answer is no,” Mordecai said firmly.

She tilted her head. “You do realize that when you have sex with someone, you’re swapping more than spit, right?”

“Indie,” Mordecai groaned, glaring at her.

“Yes?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

“Stop talking.”

“I decline.”

Mordecai thumped his forehead against the table with a dramatic groan. “Why did I think befriending you was a good idea?”

“I did warn you,” Indie said, then took another massive bite of her sandwich.

He sighed. “You did. I just didn’t imagine how uncouth you’d be.”

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