Page 44 of Captured By the Cupid

“And in rapture, remember Sorrow and Sadness.”

I wail through the gag and last layer of mud when she drags her knife across my upper chest, beneath the collarbone where my flesh is more sensitive. I gulp down the last muddy lump.

Sadness burrows four thick fingers inside me and pumps.

I prepare my vocal cords.

Sorrow moves her blade up and not down as I expect.

Swallow twice.

“I know where best to make her bleed.” She poises the blade at my curls, laughing sadistically.

“Oh, yes! Cut her petals, leave only a weed.” He jams his fingers deep in me again. I clench hard, but I can’t possibly push him out. And he’s hitting the edge of my G-spot, but I lose control. And I-I—

“Fuck!” curses Sadness, yanking his hands as warm urine spills out of me. “The little tramp has pissed.” He bares his teeth.

“I’ll cut her curls”—Sadness presses the blade against the crest of my head, a breath from shearing me— “and you fuck her with your fist!”

I spit out the gag. And scream at the top of my lungs. “EROS!”

A shift upon the wind. The sound of wings. A savage growl.

I knew he’d come.

Eros grips the twins by their necks and bashes their heads together. It’s not enough to kill them because they are demigods, immortals.

But it’s enough to bloody them, giving him the extra time he needs. While I curl into the fetal position, covering myself however I can, Eros grabs thick tree branches, knots them to form a powerful flail. There’s no escape. Eros is an unchained beast, the son of Chaos, and once, the most powerful of all gods.

I whimper and cover my eyes, only peeking through slits in my fingers at the feral gargoyle bringing down his wrath until he’s whipped them so much, their clothes are in shreds, their backs are bloodied with strips of flesh dangling off them. They’ve both pissed themselves.

Blood splatters Eros’s chest, neck, and face. He’s never looked darker and more monstrous.

While they cry and shiver, Eros binds rope around their necks and fixes their nooses to a strong branch, hanging them high and dripping blood with those strips of skin like fleshy ribbons.

“The Soulshade harpies will be along soon to pick at your bodies,” he snarls, turning his back.

“So, this is the little mortal wretch you’ve found to replace Psyche?” Aphrodite laughs, appearing, and I hate the sound, want to banish it because something so beautiful and symphonic should not exist here. She has no right to invade my trauma.

“Get out, Mother,” he commands with a sinister growl. “I’ll return your pathetic little servants to you once their bellies are split and their intestines spill while maggots feed on their bloated flesh.”

He turns to me and sweeps my weak body into his arms. I shiver…not from him but from my miserable state. He holds me as he always has…like a treasure to be possessed, a flaming star that must burn only for him. I press my cheek to his chest, wishing I could fold in on myself and become smaller.

And disappear inside him…forever.

20

What wild and wondrous thoughts does she hold?

EROS

If I could take every thread of her darkness and pain, I would.

But I can’t. So, I work to write over the pain.

I bring her to the bedroom’s adjoining pool with the thin waterfall, where I bathe her, ridding her of the bitter taste of the mud. With tender fingers, I sink them into her center to remove the refuse.

She says nothing. So, I say nothing and merely give her my presence, my strength. Strength she accepts and welcomes, given how many times she leans against me or buries her face in my stony chest. Her whimpers and cries when I touch a sensitive bruise or cut are a dark torture. They make me long for more revenge, a cut to their tongues for every bite and bruise they dealt until they are left in tattered, useless organs.

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