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Prequel: Broken Valentine

Monday, January 31st, 2011
Broken Valentine From Cynthia Sax

Broken Valentine From Cynthia Sax


“Who the hell are we waiting for?” Valentine tapped her boot-covered toe. She had things to do, and none of those things included standing around making small talk to cupids and fellow love fairies.

“Ummm…” Brown, a big, brawny mercenary, gulped, his adam apple bouncing like a ping pong ball on a hard wooden table. “The new guy, Garvin. You remember I mentioned him?”

Of course, she remembered. Brown had mentioned the star archer a zillion times, and so had everyone else, but it took more than a sterling war record to impress Valentine. “If he can’t get his ass here on time, I say we start without–”

“Oh, here he is.” Brown’s face lit up. “Garvin!” His entire body vibrated with excitement.

Damn disgusting way for a grown ass cupid to act. Valentine rolled her pink eyes, turned around to glare at the newcomer…

And her entire body started to vibrate.

Garvin was tall, with broad shoulders, and was dressed in menacing black, a long leather coat flapping around his legs. His face was hard and scarred, his hair was a closely cropped ebony, but it was his eyes that captured Valentine’s attention.

They were dark and intense and focused… on her. Awareness arced between them. He wanted her, and she wanted him.

It pissed her off.

“The weekly meetings start at eight o’clock, and that is eight o’clock sharp, cupid,” she snapped at him. “If you think I’m going to stand around in this damn hallway every fucking week waiting for your lazy ass to show up, you can –”

Garvin swung her into his arms, and kissed her hard, in front of the entire office. Valentine gasped and then forgot completely about their stunned audience, because his tongue had surged into her mouth, twining, tumbling with hers, and her stomach and heart and everything else plummeted in a dizzying freefall that had her clinging to his arms.

His black feathered wings spread, creating an intimate space inhabited by only the two of them. Valentine opened her mouth wider, in an attempt to take more of him inside her. He tasted of black coffee and bacon and some other flavor she couldn’t place. It was a kiss to end all kisses, and she never wanted it to end.

Some asshole coughed.

And Valentine remembered she was supposed to hate him, as she pretended to hate everyone, putting a much-needed barrier between herself and the hurtful world. She pushed away from his big chest.

Garvin didn’t release her waist, holding her close to his muscular form. “That’s what those lips should be used for.” His grin said smug male.

“And this is what my hand should be used for.” Valentine slapped his scarred face with all the power in her tiny body. Garvin’s head reeled back, and his skin reddened, but his grin widened, and Valentine knew she was in deep, deep trouble.