I take a large gulp from my second beer of the evening while Andris is still nursing his first. The bar is bustling on this Friday night, and the eyes of most of the women—and some men—are continuously drawn towards us. In human form, I'm not as irresistible as Andris, but we're both quite popular. All thanks to that special Cupid aura that humans simply can't escape noticing, even if they can't tell why they're drawn to us.

It's Penelope's working weekend again, so it's an excellent opportunity to meet up with my friend. Penelope has come over to my place nearly every evening the past week to help me bond the bunnies, and I actually think we're making progress. Leonard is slowly coming around to Brian, lowering her head and allowing him to lick her face. It's depressingly the best matchmaking I've done in the last decade.

Between bunny bonding and shared dinners, we've been making out. A lot. I can't keep my hands off her, and since I'm a Cupid, she can't keep her hands off me. So far I've kept us going slowly, and she's been fine with this, but we're obviously heading toward disaster. I still worry about what will happen when we take that last step. I know it's a rather crucial part of Andris's plan to send her into Trevor's waiting arms, but I still hesitate to go there. Not because I don't want to. I can't remember a time I wanted to quite this badly. But the sheer force of my desire for her is terrifying.

"Don't drink too quickly." Andris is watching me with an amused smirk on his lips. "Remember, you're in a mortal body. You can't handle alcohol the same way."

"Maybe I want to get drunk?" I counter as I take another gulp.

"Liquid courage to hook up with one of the women here?" He shrugs. "Whatever you need. How are things progressing with your mark?"

I don't like thinking of Penelope as my mark; it makes it all seem so tawdry. "I think she's into me. That's the key component of our plan, right?"

"Right. And I've been checking the files. She's had several positive lunch dates with the other mark, and they're becoming friends. He's currently more interested in her, but she's warming up to him." He raises his glass and clinks it against mine. "We're getting there."

I should be elated, so why am I feeling morose? Penelope and Trevor becoming friends work perfectly within our plan, but thinking of her with him doesn't fill me with the excitement it ought to. Rather, a completely different feeling I don't wish to examine any closer. Because there is no way I would ever be jealous of a human.

"Next step: let's get you over this reluctance to bed a human. It's really not bad." He winks at a couple of women by the bar who have been eyeing us, waving them over to our booth. I want to tell him it's not the thought of it being bad that's deterring me, but I don't want to admit to this ridiculous weakness.

"Hi." One woman, a buxom redhead, sits down next to me while her blonde friend slides in next to Andris.

I don't really want to do this, but I don't see how I could get out of it without alerting Andris to something being wrong. He's already stood by me when I went from the Cupid with the best record to the worst. I don't want him to find out I'm also some aberration who can't resist humans.

It doesn't take much effort to charm the redhead, she's already halfway there. A few traded sentences, a beer, and she's pretty much putty in my hands. Hoping it won't be too bad, I cup her face in my hand, her mouth falling open as she stares up at me. I bend my head and place my lips on hers. And... I pull back slightly to stare down at the woman. Her eyes are closed as she waits for me to return to kiss her. I capture her mouth again. It's nice but... Not even close to what it's like kissing Penelope. No urgent need possesses me. I'm relieved, but at the same time, this is even worse. Why is Penelope special?

"Something wrong?" I realize I've stopped kissing the redhead when she nudges me.

"Sorry," I say with an apologetic smile. "I can't—"

I'm saved from having to make some awkward excuse to get away from her by everyone in the bar turning around as a woman enters from the outside, bringing a gust of cold air in before the door closes behind her. Throwing a look over at Andris, who has stopped shoving his tongue down the blonde's throat, I raise a questioning eyebrow as he stares back at me.

"Did you call her?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I mentioned your concerns again," he says. "But I didn't think she'd come."

We both turn our heads to the newcomer as she walks over to our table, her long golden-brown hair like a veil behind her. There's not a person in the bar whose eyes are not plastered to the ethereal beauty. As she reaches us, she makes a move with her head to suggest that the women should leave. Which they do. Immediately. It's true what they say. No one can resist Fate.