MB Saucy Side: Reason for Divine Intervention (Kenna Version)

The assignment is simple: find target, shoot arrow, profit.

Having just gained your wings as a fledgling Cupid, you aren’t about to mess up your first solo mission. It’s imperative that you be at the top of your game; your new supervisor has been looking for an excuse to kick you off the Infatuation Task Force from the moment you were introduced. Something is up Cupid #197’s ass, but it’s certainly not one of your affection-inducing arrows.

You glance down at your mission brief, scanning it for the pertinent details. Subject, Kenna Zarneki. Location: Chicago, Illinois. Reason for Divine Intervention . . .

This last line is blank, making you frown. All Cupid targets are chosen for a reason, having some emotional hang up or mental block that prevents them from pursuing love independently. Your arrows aren’t so much an eternal love spell as it is a gentle nudge that opens their eyes to possibilities. So why isn’t the rationale filled out for this Kenna chick? Did admin forget?

You contemplate asking your supervisor directly before deciding that it’s better to just get going. Whatever Kenna Zarneki’s reason for not falling in love, it can’t be so important that it’s worth spending more time in Cupid #197’s presence.

* * * *

After your first day of silent surveillance, you’ve deduced one very important fact about your target:

Kenna Zarneki is adorable.

It boggles your mind, truly, that this mortal hasn’t found true love yet. Unless you count her dogs, of course, who love their owner with perhaps the truest love possible. But Kenna is sweet, considerate, and possesses a body that rivals any Olympian (Artemis, especially, all lithe, subtle curves). What is wrong with mortals that none have yet laid claim to her heart (and other bits)?

For this assignment, you’re supposed to choose which of five Potential Soul Mates Kenna will end up with. The first two are fine but unexceptional, and Kenna—you decide, watching her fall asleep on the couch with two dogs laying across her chest—deserves the best. You briefly contemplate going with either Soul Mate #3 or #4, but then you learn that they both are severely allergic to dogs. Obviously, it’s a no go.

One day of observation turns into three, and three days turns into a week. You request a new list of Potentials from Cupid #197, who rakes you over the coals for being too picky but ultimately hands over a new list.

None of these are up to par either.

Because Kenna—you realize, watching her gently place a blanket over her best friend crashed on the couch—deserves better than the best. She deserves better than a Potential Soul Mate.

Kenna Zarneki deserves to find The One.

* * * *

Your application that the Fates divine Kenna Zarneki’s One True Love is rejected without explanation.

“You have a list of ten romance options for the guy,” Cupid #197 grumbles. “Everyone in your graduating class has already completed their assignments.”

You glare back at him, wings ruffling with agitation. “But Kenna—”

“Target 280D,” Cupid #197 corrects. “Don’t get attached to your marks.”

Your stomach plummets at his words, which quote verbatim from your past textbooks. It’s the first rule that every aspiring Cupid learns before being handed a bow: Don’t get attached.

It’s a rule you’ve already broken.

* * * *

On your second week of observing Kenna Zarneki, she does something strange. You’re hovering in the upper corner of her living room, next to the ceiling fan, when she abruptly stands from her seat, walks to the front door, and opens it. Nobody’s there.

Kenna’s expression hardly changes at all, but by now you’re enough of an expert on the woman to catch the minute flicker of disappointment which narrows her grey eyes. She shuts the door and heads to the back exit, where she repeats the process. Instead of closing the door this time, however, she simply stands at the threshold as if awaiting someone.

Curious, you flutter down to see what it is that has Kenna so engrossed. Annie and Cass are both splashing in the pool, but for once she’s ignoring the dogs in favor of gazing blankly over the fence and into the patch of grass beyond.

What’s so interesting? You lean forward, peering over her shoulder for a better look . . .

When she abruptly turns around, takes a step forward, and collides directly with you. Your invisibility spell shatters, and you’re knocked back onto your rump. You stare up at her from the floor, and she stares back at you.

It’s hard to tell which of you is more shocked by this development.

* * * *

Kenna accepts your existence with unexpected ease.

“I knew I was being watched,” she explains, seated across from you at the kitchen table.

Your cheeks heat at the knowledge that you were the one she’d been searching for in the yard. You should’ve wiped Kenna’s memory the moment that you were discovered, but you’re strangely reluctant.

I’ve been trying to pair her with a Potential Soul Mate for two weeks without luck, you justify internally. Maybe this is a good thing—she can provide feedback on what she wants in a relationship.

You vocalize the question only to have Kenna shrug. “What anyone wants, I guess,” she says.

Not finding this information particularly helpful, you decide to stay for dinner.

* * * *

Two days later, and Kenna still hasn’t elaborated on her ideal relationship. You’ve stayed with her the entire time, disguised as a mortal of course (your shoulder blades itch from where your wings used to sprout). Whenever she’s not busy, you pepper her with questions:

“Is your ideal partner messy or neat?”

Kenna shrugs.

“Do they like to travel?”

Kenna shrugs.

“What about their favorite book genre?”

Kenna shrugs.

“Is there anything you can tell me about your perfect match?” you demand, exasperated. Annie, who was curled up in your lap, leaps up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Wonderful. Now even the dog is feeling pity for you—that’s how bad you are at your job.

Kenna stares at you for a long moment.

“Someone who likes animals,” she says.

* * * *

“How do you feel about redheads?” you ask, shifting through your new files of Potential Soul Mates. Cupid #197 gave you grief for taking so long, but at least she hasn’t yet caught on that you’re hanging out with your mark.

Kenna shrugs, dishing last night’s spaghetti into two bowels. she pushes one towards you. “That stuff you added to the sauce is amazing.”

“It’s ambrosia,” you say absently, switching to yet another file. “Oh! This one’s a pediatrician!”

Kenna takes a bite of pasta and doesn’t respond.

“Or there’s a librarian. That could be a good match, you like books . . .”

Kenna shrugs yet again.

Frustration wells up in you. All this time, you’ve been working your ass off to achieve her Happily Ever After, and the blasted woman acts like she doesn’t even care. You just want her to be happy and loved, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your eternal existence, and she’s more focused on your spaghetti sauce recipe than on finding The One.

You toss the files down on the table, scattering them across the surface. You’re angry—angrier than you should be. Angrier than you have any right to be.

“Fine,” you snap, gesturing to the facedown papers. “If it doesn’t matter, then just pick one randomly. Who do you want, Kenna?”

He reaches across the table and grasps your hand.

“You,” she says. “I want you.”

* * * *

Kenna’s kiss tastes like ambrosia, and not just because it was in the spaghetti.

Everything about her is perfect. The way her calloused fingertips caress your jaw. How her tongue teases and twines with yours. Her broken, pleading moan whenever you recall reality and begin to pull away.

No one would be able to resist that moan, not even a demigod like yourself. Eventually, you stop attempting to retreat and simply enjoy your fall. Your heart beats faster—did you even have a heartbeat before meeting Kenna? It’s impossible to remember anything before this moment, before the urgent press of her hands and the impatient heat of her lips.

“We can’t!” you gasp as her lips trail down your neck. “My job is to—”

“You said I could choose,” she says, your exposed skin prickling under her breath. “I chose you.”

Her next kiss is desperation and reverence in equal measure. It’s all too overwhelming, and you can’t think. Kenna won’t let you. She pushes you back until you’re trapped between the wall and her arms, one hand gliding up the curve of your back while the other takes your chin captive so that your lips can’t escape. You’re locked in her embrace, earthbound yet flying higher than your wings ever reached.

It’s not heavenly. It’s deliciously, deliriously mortal. Kenna’s nose sometimes smooshes against yours in her eagerness, and your front teeth click together during one too-hard kiss. It’s all a mess and a little sloppy, and she pulls back briefly to make sure that you’re okay. Her pale skin is flushed, and her hair disheveled. She’s never looked more perfect.

Grabbing a fistful of her shirt, you pull her back in.

“We chose each other,” you say.

Meanwhile, back in Olympus . . .

Cupid #197 took off his spectacles and pinched his nose. Two hours, just to fill out paperwork that shouldn’t have been necessary in the first place. Demigods and humans weren’t supposed to fall in love, and he didn’t understand why The Fates had decided to make an exception for his employee.

Ex-employee, that is, given that everything seemed to be proceeding on schedule. With a grumpy sigh (training new Cupids took work, and he wasn’t eager to find a replacement), Cupid #197 signed his title to the bottom of the document with a flourish.

Subject: Kenna Zarneki

Location: Chicago, Illinois

Reason for Divine Intervention: Designated Partner Not Yet Human.