“Tell me.” I’m not above tickling her until she spills the secret, and she must see that in my eyes as she relents.
“Eros… he… well, he’s been telling people that the only reason you’re up for the seductress award is because you were dating him. Everyone knows it’s a lie. You use lust arrows like it’s your job… I mean, it is your job, but you love lusting the hell out of people.”
“That slimy, shrimp-dicked motherfucker.” I seethe and Amore’s eyes go wide.
“That small?” she gasps.
“That small, and with it being pink and all, I figured it was a good comparison.”
“What are you going to do?” Amore asks.
I click my teeth. “I’m going to hit him where it hurts the most.”
“In his shrimp-dick?” Amore asks with a laugh.
“No, I’m going to steal his bow.”
A grin spreads over Amore’s face that matches mine. I consider how exactly I plan on taking his most prized possession.
Cupids don’t just leave their bows sitting around willy-nilly. They are coveted and treasured pieces of ourselves. Well, if Eros thinks he can break up with me and make me look like a fool, he has another think coming.
I’m not sure why I said yes to the sweet, desperate cupid.
That’s a lie.
I hate Eros so much. Any chance I get to mess with that self-righteous prick, I’ll take it. Truth be told, I probably would have said yes, anyway.
I’m desperately bored, and Love, well Love is terribly beautiful in a way that isn’t suited for a reaper. Yet… she wants to use me for revenge and something about that makes me more endeared to the petty cupid.
She also lied to me about the Valentine’s Day Ball, probably so that she wouldn’t spook me. But I’ve been around for a long time, I know exactly what happens at their precious Love New Year, and like I said, I’ve been without affection for quite some time. A man can only be celibate for so long before he starts to crack, and something tells me the cupid might be down with my particular tastes.
I’m sipping a coffee and reading this week’s obituaries when Demise comes to sit next to me.
“How are things?” he asks.
“I’m going to the Cupids’ Valentine’s Day Ball,” I tell him and he hunches over the table, gripping the ends laughing. He’slaughing so hard that the black veins around his forehead are pulsating against his bright blond hair.
I roll my eyes at his boisterous laughter and I want to hit him over the head with a coffee mug, but I somehow control myself.
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. Clearly you’re crashing it? I can just picture you floating over to their cute pink little party and ruining it with your presence.”
I take a sip of my coffee as Mors joins the table; she glares at the way Demise is laughing hysterically, I understand the sentiment completely.
“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” she asks, pouring herself a cup and coming to sit at the table.
“Good old Death here is going to the Cupids’ Love New Year,” Demise says, tears filling his eyes as he continues laughing over the prospect.
Mors, however, tilts her head and looks at me with intrigue.
“A sweet little cupid invited me,” I tell them, strangely, in a proud tone. Like it’s such a victory to have one of the other immortal beings ask something of me, especially a cupid. Especially Love. She’s different from some of the other cupids I’ve had the misfortune of running into. She wasn’t scared of me. If anything, she looked like she wanted to take a peek at what’s under my robes.
Mors clicks her tongue and sips her coffee, glaring at me over the rim. It’s a black mug with a skeletal hand giving the finger. It’s very on brand for the moody reaper.
“Does she know anyone else that needs a date?”
Her question takes me off guard, and I just blink at her for a moment.
“You want to go to their precious little party, Mors?” Demise jokes with her.
