“I wish I could help you out, Love. But unfortunately, I can’t leave this spot, nor could I touch you.” He clicks his tongue. “Which truly is a shame.”
I groan dramatically. He would have been perfect and I totally would have let this ghostly hottie at least feel me up. “You really are a hot ghost, you know?”
He laughs and sighs. “This is truly unfortunate.”
“Any other ideas?” I ask him.
“How do you feel about death, cupid?” he asks, somehow arching his ghostly brow as he throws his cigarette and it fades into nothing.
I swallow thickly and shrug my shoulders as Rich gives me directions to my last and only hope.
I need to track down a reaper and pray that they won’t smite me or laugh right in my face when I ask them to be my date for Valentine’s Day.
Hanging out around a hospital seems like an incredibly fucked-up place to find a date. But Rich told me this would be my best bet, souls are collected here multiple times a day to be ferried to their final resting place.
Follow the departing souls, nab a reaper. How hard can it be?
A reaper can touch me, isn’t a prude, and absolutely would make Eros shit his pants. Honestly, the cupid community as a whole might lose their ever-loving minds.
It’s perfect.
Walking into the Valentine’s Day Ball with a reaper on my arm is the perfect play. I don’t know why they were on the bottom of my list. Maybe I felt a little put off by the whole death and doom thing, but truly, they would make the biggest statement—that I’m not to be fucked with.
One of them zooms by, down the halls, their black cloak trailing them. They’re the embodiment of death and about as antisocial as they come. At least that’s what I’ve heard from other cupids.
I follow the reaper to the room, and I’m shocked by what I see.
It isn’t a ghoulish reaping of a soul, no; he takes the hand of the old man’s soul and pats it with both hands. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but the old man is smiling, like he’s relieved. Like he’s welcoming death with open arms. It’s actually quite sweet, and I nearly feel like I’m intruding on a special moment.
The machines beep wildly as his soul disappears peacefully; the man crossing over to the afterlife. Then the reaper turns his hooded face toward me, completely unreadable. His body floats closer to stand in front of me. I have to look up, and yet, I can still only see the bottom half of his face.
“What are you doing here, cupid?” he asks, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.
There’s a flurry of humans around us, hoping to resuscitate the older man. Yet, we both know he’s gone. There’s no coming back after a reaper has collected your soul.
“It’s actually quite interesting, if I could have a moment of your time?” I say with a smile. “I promise it’s not about your car’s extended warranty or a religious cult.” I swear his lip twitches, but I can’t tell from the overhang of his hood.
“I don’t have time for this shit. I’m busy.”
“I totally get that you’re busy, but it will just take a few moments,” I say.
He zooms down the hall, and I snap out my wings to follow him. It’s taken me a lot of practice to get used to these wings, popping them in and out is a total bitch, but they come in handy sometimes.
“I know you have an important job… uh… Mr. Reaper man, but I’d like to talk to you about a proposition.”
He halts in the hallway and I’m thankful for it as my feet touch the floor and tuck in my wings.
“Are you sure this isn’t about a cult? I’ve never heard of a cupid wanting something from a reaper,” he says, pulling his cloak back.
Holy fucking shit, this reaper is hot.
His hair is a dark brown, and it’s messy, framing his angular face and complementing his bronzed skin. His eyebrows are just as dark as his hair and highlight his deep-set, brown eyes. He stands nearly a foot and a half taller than me.
I absolutely have to make this work with the reaper. He’d be perfect. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also the polar opposite of Eros.
I swallow as I open my mouth, and he glares down at me.
“Don’t waste my time, cupid,” he says.
