“Are you doubting my matchmaking abilities, Mors?”
“I just… I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”
Love stands and wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes. The hug feels foreign, but I can’t deny that I enjoy the small platonic affection.
“You’re worthy of love, and I’m a really fucking good cupid,” she says, pinching the soft flesh of my forearm.
“Ouch.”
“Don’t doubt me again, reaper,” she says, pointing at me with a glare.
“The last… the last woman I was interested in didn’t hold the same affection. Color me jaded, Love.”
“Besides the fact that I’m a cupid and I know these things. I’ve pressed her for some information. I think you’re just what she needs.”
“And what’s that?”
Love smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I can’t decide if I want to throttle her or hug her again.
The two cupids who are already at the party seem a little leary about coming to Purgatory; I suppose I don’t blame them. From what Death has said, Cupidale is very pink, bright, and lively.
Purgatory is dark, rainy, and calm.
“Relax, they don’t bite,” Death says beside me.
I roll my eyes and put way too much cheese in my mouth.
“You’re being way too smug. Don’t forget you were the asshole who came into the break room crying because you thought the cupid in the corner hated you.”
“I was not crying,” Death snaps back, his dark brows furrowing as he looks down at me with irritation.
“You were basically near tears.”
Death blinks, rubs his chin, and looks around the room that Love rented for the event. It’s like Barbie meets Valentine’s Day in here.
“Fuck, I think I’ve been domesticated.”
“You’re just now realizing this? Have you not looked around your bedroom? There’s more pink than black at this point.”
“You’re jealous,” he whispers, no doubt trying to hide the fact he’s wrapped around the small cupid’s fingers.
Her pink wings are out as she flies around, getting everything together for the party. The venue is never going to be able to get out the pink glitter she just tossed around the room like it isn’t considered contraband in this realm.
She sent Demise, Doom, and Gloom to Earth to portal her friends directly to the party. Something about the fact she only likes Death portalling her, no one else. At least jealousy seems like a common trait among the immortal. I guess she wanted me stationed here to meet my unsuspecting date, which has left me nothing to do except fidget and panic.
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
Death puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “She’s good at her job, just be yourself and everything will be fine,” he says softly.
I nod my head and he squeezes one more time. Sometimes we can be kind to each other, even if it feels a little disgusting.
“Is there anything I can do for you, little cupid?” Death asks her, and she grins.
“Tape these paper hearts on the corner,” she directs him, and he does her bidding.
Doom and Gloom pop into the event space with a handful of cupids on their arms.
