Chapter 1

In my defense, they had nice asses. Round, thick, juicy asses, that led to muscular thighs, positioned just below slim waists with that deliciously tapered V that leads to broad shoulders and strong arms. If they hadn't had such nice asses, I wouldn't have been able to shoot my shot.

Look, I'm not saying they were asking for it. Except, well, they did ask for it. It here being love. They were shifters without fated mates, after all, so they spent a lot of their time longing for that special connection.

Who am I to say no to a perfect ten out of ten when he wants something only I can give? I'm only human, after all—well, I once was even if I'm not one anymore, but you get the idea, invisible person I'm talking to in my head.

I guess when it comes down to it, I'm such a klutz I couldn't help myself. A real ditz. Just call me absolutely, completely and totally, stupid with a C.

Cupid, that's me.

"I just want to find someone to love me. I don't think that's too much to ask since we're supposed to have mates," the shifter-who-hadn't-shifted in front of me was saying, his hand curled around a big mug full of frothy beer. It looked good, but I bet it tasted terrible, like all beer does.

"We'll find mates, I'm sure of it. They're out there somewhere, just waiting for us." The lion shifter was good for a pick-me-up with his buddies. "Don't lose hope."

"Or do. Having mates is overrated. Everyone I know who's found one barely ever goes out anymore or has any fun. It's always 'my mate won't let me' or 'I think my mate is feeling bad tonight.' Miserable bastards." The bear shifter was always grumbly as fuck, like someone stuck a whole stick or even a branch up his ass and he didn't like the feel of it despite having a prostate.

Me, I wasn't sure I disagreed with stick-up-his-ass at the end of the day. Love was overrated. I should've been floating up above their heads with massive wings and a shining halo. Instead I was crouched by the skylight to Mr. Lion's mansion, staring at them through the glass, my tiny golden wings and flimsy little halo glowing in my reflection. 

In fact, they were all my reflection, there was no body or face or anything, because one of the rules of cupidity is that you're not allowed to see yourself. Something something earthly bonds, something something ascending beyond the physical. It made it weird when I stood in front of a mirror and held my hands out in front of me, but at least no one else could see me since I'm invisible to humans.

I'm pretty invisible to shifters and other supernaturals too, though I'd caught the occasional witch looking in my direction with a frown on her face. One time a wolf shifter seemed to smell me. But that was it, the only interaction I ever got with anyone who wasn't a fellow cupid, and most of them were boring as fuck and stuck to the rules.

Tonight, I finished up my run-of-the-mill cupid work. Dip an arrow in someone's essence, shoot it at someone else, make sure they fall madly in love, move on, repeat. Usually it was couples who were meant to stay together so they could change the world—cancer researchers and their supportive spouses, or artists and other inspirational people. It never seemed like they liked each other much though, more like HQ sent me to make sure they stayed together, and even then as a last ditch effort. Only the shifters ever really seemed to love love which is why I liked to spy on them when I was done with my shift.

HQ—that's what I call Headquarters, the big cheeses around here to run things, or more accurately the middle managers—they didn't like dilly dallying. When I first started my cupid shifts I stuck straight to the schedule, no pauses or breaks. I thought if I worked overtime I'd make my way out of the big office cubical in the sky and get into the real heaven. But that was so many years ago that they've invented whole new genres of pop music, and I've since given up on a promotion, deciding instead to just enjoy my afterlife whenever I can.

That's why I was watching The Trio, my favorite group of hot-as-sin male shifters, when they started talking about their mateless status. I felt bad for them because they had no idea they had no fated mates. For some reason unknown to me, HQ left them off that roster, maybe because there wasn't anyone suitable or just because they didn't care.

I liked The Trio, though. Besides being hot, they got along really well and watched each other's backs. The lion shifter was rich, and he made sure his friends never struggled, even when the bear shifter got laid off from his job at a security firm. Even the as-yet-shiftless shifter got his support in the form of plastic surgery when he showed up one day with a big scar on his face that he never explained, despite the fact that shifters always heal fast from wounds and almost never scar. Now you could barely even see the shining white scar unless you looked hard for it, and it made him rugged instead of spooky.

So yeah, I've spied on them for years. I'm basically immortal and there's nothing else to do here. Sue me, or don't, I own no assets.

Usually they were pretty upbeat despite their mateless status. The lion shifter liked to go out on dates and enjoyed himself even if they weren't the fated mate, and the bear shifter was grumpy, but never down in the dumps. The shiftless shifter had various girlfriends over the years and usually wished them the best whenever they found their fated mates since he wanted that for them.

Tonight, though, he was uncharacteristically grim. "I don't know if it's the scar or what, but I'm never going to find someone. Don't say it'll happen—we both know by now that isn't true. I don't think I have a fated mate at all, or even just a mate, because every woman I date finds her true love the instant she meets me."

Lion shifter cleared his throat to ask, "Danica? I'm guessing...?"

"Two rhino shifter brothers," he answered with a grim tone, drinking the last of his beer in a long swig that should've drowned or choked him but just went down quickly. "I don't blame her for finding her fated mate, I don't even mind that it was two men, hell, she deserved it all and more. I just hate that every time it means I lose the woman I'm with because she found someone better. No matter how long we're together or how good I am to her she's gone just like that."

There was a big, heavy silence in the air. I leaned forward, wanting to see his face, and squealed as I tumbled through the skylight and into the mansion's floor on my ass.

See, the thing about being a cupid is, you're not exactly solid. So things like glass and flimsy materials like canvas or scaffolding don't always hold me up. It's annoying as hell but at least I don't really hurt myself, at least not for long or permanently.

The guys didn't react to my clumsy, cupid ass falling into their mansion, though bear shifter did look around with his brows drawn together like he sensed something was off. That one I had to watch out for—he was the most likely to figure me out and HQ did not like that sort of thing.

Well, they also don't like this sort of thing. I can't really say why I did what I did next. It's only that as shiftless kept going on about his hopelessness, the mood started to shift, and suddenly the others joined in.

"I tried the dating services," bear shifter cut in. "Every single one of them. Mate Match, Find a Mate, Shifters Select, hell I even tried the classified. There's no one for me, no one at all."

Lion shifter tried to hold for a moment more. "We don't know where our mates are, maybe they're in the space station or—"

"It's enough, Leo," I rarely heard them call each other by their names, so I didn't think of them, but shiftless was in rare form tonight. "We need to accept reality. The three of us are friends for one reason and one reason only: we're mateless, and obviously we always will be."

There was silence after that. The lion shifter, ironically or purposefully named Leo, poured himself a bourbon on the rocks. Bear shifter switched to straight vodka, and the shiftless shifter grabbed a canned cocktail, clearly none of them cared about the mood anymore.

I hated watching it. For the first time in decades, my cupid heart actually hurt at the sight of their sorrow. Here I was, quiver full of arrows, and I was supposed to just watch them drown their heartache in liquor? Screw that!

So I stalked across the mansion's big living room—really it was ridiculous, full of fancy sculptures and leather furniture and thick plush rugs—grabbed three arrows from my quiver, aimed my bow, and shot them right at The Trio.

It wasn't hard at all, and it seemed like a perfectly good idea.

Until they started roaring and freaking out, running around the mansion tearing through its priceless paintings, shifting back and forth—except shiftless, who only ever let his claws and fangs out—and just in general being insane.

That was when my earpiece beeped, letting me know HQ wanted a word for me.

So I squeaked in alarm, headed to the restroom, stared at my nothing in the mirror, and talked myself down.

Err, well, I talked to you.

Maybe you have some advice?