“Dig him up,” I said, getting frantic. “I really hope he didn’t bite it.”

I thought Poseidon would never freakin’ leave. The thought of Archer the assmonkey buried in the sand and suffocating terrified me. It was one thing to kill in self-defense—like I was going to have to do to the chunky, toothless, egomaniac Cupid. It was entirely another to accidentally off the idiot I’d been boinking even if he was a nardhole.

“Call me crazy,” Thornycraft started.

“Dude, Thornycraft is a perfectly good name. It’s way better than Crazy,” I told him as I pawed through the mounds of sand on top of Archer.

“Ye didn’t let me finish me thought, little hooker,” Thornycraft said with a chuckle. “Methinks Poseidon knows that Johnson-man-tool is under the sandcastle.”

“Poseidon doesn’t even know Johnson-man-tool. Why would he think someone he doesn’t know is in a shallow freakin’ grave?”

“Me just has a feelin’. Me timbers were shivering,” he replied as he too began to dig.

“Whatever,” I said. “He can’t know that Johnson-man-tool stole Cupid’s magic. If he did, I’m quite sure there would be a manhunt—or a Godhunt for him. I just need to convince the jackhole to return it.”

“How are ye going to do that?”

“The old fashioned way,” I muttered as an involuntary zing of excitement consumed me and my lady bits grew perky.

“Yar gonna seduce Johnson-man-tool?” Thornycraft asked with disapproval in his tone.

“Well… umm… I was. You have a better idea?” I asked feeling like an idiot with no morals.

“Swimmin’ hooker,” he said, gently putting his semi-fingered hand over mine and halting my panicked digging. “Ye told me yerself that ye have only slept with Johnson-man-tool since ye met him fifty years ago. Aye?”

“Yes,” I whispered, hoping at the very least Archer had a shit load of sand in his ears. I didn’t want him to know any of this.

“Call me crazy… or Thornycraft if ye prefer, but as much as ye deny it, methinks ye like him. The rapscallion is a blundering bilge rat and don’t deserve ye. He told ye he wouldn’t return the enchantment to the bulbous hairy baby. I say, wake the pontoon splinter up, zap his unworthy arse, and let him go.”

His words gave me pause. Thornycraft was correct. What in the Seven Seas had I been I thinking? Actually, it was my inner swimming hooker that was doing the thinking. I didn’t have time to deal with Archer even though having him here on Mystical Isle was every secret dream I had come true.

Still… I needed to learn how to use the bow and arrows so I could at least give Cupid a run for his money when he showed up. And show up, he would. The squat shit sounded like an egomaniacal, wildly unattractive freak show. There was no way he would let someone else have his job—fired or not. For better or worse, I was now Cupid. For someone who thought romantic love was a joke, I was definitely going to do a better job than the porcine doofus I was replacing.

“You’re right. I have terrible taste in men,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Archer is a complication I can’t afford at the moment.”

Thornycraft froze and stared at me with a strange expression on his face.

“What?” I asked, starting to get uncomfortable. Was he still disappointed in me for planning to boink a traitor? I just told him I wasn’t going that route even though I still secretly wanted to.

“I thought ye said the barrel bellied son of a sea cook’s name was Johnson-man-tool.”

“Well, umm… it kind of is,” I stuttered as I felt the heat crawl up my neck. The unfortunate blush combined with my green hair and stupid red and silver dusting of sparkles guaranteed that I looked like a ridiculous Christmas shrub. “It’s the name of part of him,” I finished weakly.

“The peg legged bow bungler’s name is Archer?” Thornycraft demanded with his eyes narrowed to slits.

“Yes,” I said, getting a sinking feeling in my gut. “He said it was one of his names.”

Thornycraft began to dig like a wild man on a mission. Sand flew everywhere and I stepped back to avoid being the second person to be buried alive today.

“Me timbers are shivering again. Stand back, little hooker and get ready to fight fer yer life.”

“Wait. What?” I shouted as Thornycraft began to growl and glow like a firework. “What are you doing?”

“Johnson-man-tool has some explaining to do as soon as I kick his arse,” he snarled.

And then it all became a blur. As Thornycraft dug Archer out from above, Archer dug himself out from below. The sandstorm was real and I could barely make out what the heck was happening. However, the landing of punches, swearing and loud grunts were unmistakable. The noise alone was going to bring out a crowd shortly, not to mention the sand was turning into a mini spitting tornado. I wasn’t sure if Thornycraft was causing it or if it was Archer.

It didn’t matter. The shitshow was going to stop. Now.

Raising my hands above my head, I sliced them through the air. Sparkling green crystals burst from my fingertips, surrounded the sandstorm and doused it like it was a fire. The sand fell to the ground and the idiots now floated about six feet above the beach, dangling like puppets. I’d had the forethought to separate them and it was a smart move. Both Archer and Thornycraft were bloody and bruised. What the hell and seashells was going on here?

“Enough,” I hissed as the two men eyed each other with fury. “I’d like to know what’s happening or I’m gonna blast both of you over to the Sea Hag cave. And trust me, it smells like butt on a stick in a heat wave. Am I clear?”

“Johnson-man-tool has come to send ye to Davy Jones’ locker,” Thornycraft ground out, still ready to have a go at Archer.

“My name isn’t Johnson-man-tool,” Archer snapped, glaring at Thornycraft.

“Aye. I know that, ya thunderin’, worm riddled fish gizzard. Why don’t ye tell the swimming hooker yer real name?”

“She knows my name,” Archer growled.

“Nay. Misty only knows one of them, ye mutiny minded crow bait. Why don’t ye share some of yer other monikers? Should have figured it out when ye rode in on a dolphin,” Thornycraft snarled.

My stomach dropped and my chest felt tight. Something was very wrong here and I wasn’t quite sure what it was. Whatever it was, I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

“Stop. We can’t stay on the beach with you two nardholes hanging in the air shouting at each other. We’re going to my suite and I’m getting to the bottom of what’s going on. You will not speak, touch or even look at each other. If you do, you’ll have to grow a few new body parts. Got it?” I yelled, quickly scanning the beach to make sure it was still deserted.

“At the risk of losing me tallywhacker, I insist that the scallywag reveal his other names,” Thornycraft grunted with his hands firmly placed over his pecker.

“Fine,” I said with an eye roll. “Archer, what are your other names?”

“Thought you didn’t want to know my name,” he shot back, looking slightly uncomfortable.

The jackhole still looked sexy even dangling in the air. Why did he have to look like that? It was every kind of not fair. His jeans, t-shirt and combat boots were soaked with sea water and covered in sand, but somehow the dumbass still looked like he’d just walked off the pages of GQ.

“Yep, well, you screwed that up the last time we met.”

“Pun intended?” he inquired with a twinkle in his gorgeous icy blue eyes.

“You can shove the pun up your ass,” I said, trying not to laugh. Everything he did, even the rude stuff, was enchanting to me… Shit. “What’s your other name?”

His eyes narrowed, and he all of a sudden looked huge and a little bit scary. I was glad I’d strung him up in the air.

“Mandan,” he muttered giving Thornycraft a nasty look.

“Madman?” I asked. I mean, he was kind of nuts, but that was his name?

“No. Mandan,” he repeated more clearly.

“Umm… kind of weird, but I don’t have a problem with it. You have more?”

“The muck swillin’ fish gill does,” Thornycraft hissed.

Again, my gut clenched, but I pressed Archer aka Mandan for more. I was very aware something was coming that would piss me off far more than a fat bulbous toothless love baby gunning for me, but there was no going back now.

“Tell me.”

“Eros,” Archer said through clenched teeth.

What the fuck? Eros? His other name was Eros?

I was fairly sure I was going to be ill. This was not happening. It couldn’t be happening. Had I been set up?

And if I was framed, who exactly had set me up?

“And your other name?” I said, staring daggers at the bastard who had come to off my ass.

“Clearly you already know it,” he replied with a shrug.

“I want to hear you say it,” I shot back, wanting to slap him silly. “Say it.”

His pause seemed to take an eternity and I held his eyes defiantly. How could I have been so clueless for so long? Were there signs I’d missed over the last half century? How in Poseidon’s diaper wearing ass had I not know I was boinking a demigod? And why did I feel like sobbing?

“Cupid. My name is Cupid.”

The secret part of me wanted to cry and scream, but the part I shared with the world most certainly did not. The boinking bastard had come to kill me and I wasn’t in the mood to die. Not today.

“On three,” Thornycraft shouted. “One. Two. Three.”

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. With my loyal fingerless buddy, we zapped the shit out of my enemy Cupid. Glitter and sparking mist exploded into the air. The magic sizzled and danced on the ocean breeze. I was shocked that our power—even combined—could knock out a demigod, but then again, I still had no clue what Thornycraft was. Whatever my finger challenged friend was, he was freakin’ powerful and for that I was grateful.

“Swimmin’ hooker, let me down and we’ll take the bilge water swiller to yer suite. We need to question the scoundrel before we send him to Davy Jones’ locker,” Thornycraft advised.

Nodding, yet unable to speak I did as I was told. Together we dragged my beautiful, immortal enemy to my suite. My heart was heavy and I had never felt so betrayed or embarrassed. Thornycraft said nothing, but gave me a quick hug.

I was pretty sure something inside me broke. It wasn’t my heart. I’d only given that to my sisters.

But whatever it was it hurt—a lot.