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The sound of sandals slapping the black marble floor of his foyer alerted Cupid that he had a visitor. He already knew who. She had been haunting his dreams, driving him mad with lust for over a century. In all that time she had never once paid him a visit. He wondered which screwed up couple she’d come to complain about. He’d messed with enough of them lately in order to get her attention.
“Cupid, you twisted son of a bitch,” the sound of her cursing made him smile. Carefully schooling his features into a bland expression he turned around slowly.
The sight of her took his breath away. Agatha at peace was a beautiful woman but Agatha angry was incredible. Her eyes sparked with fury, her untamed hair surrounded her head in an ebony cloud as she marched toward him, her unbound breasts heaving with each outraged breath she took. He fought the instant hard on that erupted as he watched her swaying hips, enjoying the view so much, he forgot she was here because he’d finally managed to piss her off enough to find him.
“How could you be so cruel?” she demanded, her lips quivering with emotion as she stopped in front of him and placed her hands on her hips.