*CUPID'S MATCH BOOK 3* FIRST DRAFT
For the third time, follow Lila into a world of cupids, arrows, betrayal, and love, in the Watty award winning series with over 50 million reads online.
CUPID'S MATCH is published and in stores now!
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I look over my shoulder as Tis pulls me down the bright white corridor. I barely feel her strong grip around my arm – painted nails digging through my tattered leather jacket. My body is numb. Coldness fills my insides – turning my stomach and clenching around my heart.
Cupid and Cal don't remember who I am.
How can this be happening?
Tis pushes me through an open door at the end of the corridor and I stumble forwards – almost banging into a reclining chair in the center of the room. I grab onto it to steady myself – hands still bound – and a wave of nausea comes over me. It reminds me of a dentist's chair; only there are leather straps and buckles attached to its arms and legs clearly meant to tie someone down.
So, this is where I'm going to be tortured.
I suck in a deep breath of thick air and look up – catching my disheveled reflection in the opposite mirrored wall.
I can't even think about torture right now.
Not when Cupid and Cal are fighting in the cell as though the past few months never happened. Not when they've forgotten me.
I spin around to face the Fury.
"Is it permanent?" I say – breathing hard. "The effects of the steam?"
She smooths her blonde ponytail over her shoulder then arches an eyebrow.
"Why don't you take a seat?" she says.
"Is. It. Permanent?"
A smile curls onto her face.
"Yes." The force of the word slams into me and I stumble back into the chair. No. My insides turn to ice. How can this be happening? They can't have forgotten me. This can't be real. No. "Now please, take a seat."
I shake my head. "No."
She holds my gaze a moment longer, then walks across the linoleum floor to the wall in front where there's a long white desk. On it is a collection of small colored bottles, a computer, and a control panel of with buttons and levers.
She picks up one of the small bottles – a translucent one.
"Water from the River Lethe," she says. "A couple of drops can make a person forget their recent memories. But the whole bottle..." she turns it on its side – allowing the transparent liquid to slosh against the cork, "that will make a person forget who they are completely. It will turn them into a shell. Lost. Alone. Empty. Forever." She raises an eyebrow. "Is that what you want for your boys?"
I glare at her but say nothing. Her painted lips curl into a smile.
"I didn't think so. Although I don't know why. They're just men. And I've never been much of a fan of men myself." She nods at the chair. "Take a seat."
