MB Saucy Side: Reason for Divine Intervention (Kent 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, Kent 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 Kent guy? Did admin forget?

You contemplate asking your supervisor directly before deciding that it’s better to just get going. Whatever Kent 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:

Kent Zarneki is adorable.

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

For this assignment, you’re supposed to choose which of five Potential Soul Mates Kent will end up with. The first two are fine but unexceptional, and Kent—you decide, watching him fall asleep on the couch with two dogs laying across his 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 Kent—you realize, watching him gently place a blanket over his best friend crashed on the couch—deserves better than the best. He deserves better than a Potential Soul Mate.

Kent Zarneki deserves to find The One.

* * * *

Your application that the Fates divine Kent 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 Kent—”

“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 Kent Zarneki, he does something strange. You’re hovering in the upper corner of his living room, next to the ceiling fan, when he abruptly stands from his seat, walks to the front door, and opens it. Nobody’s there.

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

Curious, you flutter down to see what it is that has Kent so engrossed. Annie and Cass are both splashing in the pool, but for once he’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 his shoulder for a better look . . .

When he 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 him from the floor, and he stares back at you.

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

* * * *

Kent accepts your existence with unexpected ease.

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

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

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

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

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

* * * *

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

“Is your ideal partner messy or neat?”

Kent shrugs.

“Do they like to travel?”

Kent shrugs.

“What about their favorite book genre?”

Kent 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.

Kent stares at you for a long moment.

“Someone who likes animals,” he 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 he hasn’t yet caught on that you’re hanging out with your mark.

Kent shrugs, dishing last night’s spaghetti into two bowels. He 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!”

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

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

Kent shrugs yet again.

Frustration wells up in you. All this time, you’ve been working your ass off to achieve his Happily Ever After, and the blasted man acts like he doesn’t even care. You just want him to be happy and loved, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your eternal existence, and he’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, Kent?”

He reaches across the table and grasps your hand.

“You,” he says. “I want you.”

* * * *

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

Everything about him is perfect. The way his calloused fingertips caress your jaw. How his tongue teases and twines with yours. His 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 Kent? It’s impossible to remember anything before this moment, before the urgent press of his hands and the impatient heat of his lips.

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

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

His next kiss is desperation and reverence in equal measure. It’s all too overwhelming, and you can’t think. Kent won’t let you. He pushes you back until you’re trapped between the wall and his 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 his embrace, earthbound yet flying higher than your wings ever reached.

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

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you pull him 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: Kent Zarneki

Location: Chicago, Illinois

Reason for Divine Intervention: Designated Partner Not Yet Human.