I splash some water on my face and look at my hair. It’s a little out of control from the sleigh ride, but it doesn’t look bad, so I leave it.
When I exit the bathroom, both of the men look at me affectionately. They don’t look at me like I’m covered from head to toe in silk. They look at me like I have the most expensive lingerie on.
This is it. This is my leap of faith into relationships.
What kind of cupid would I be if I gave up my chance for love, if I let fear get in the way of my happiness?
I glance at Krampus, who has stains on his suit, and I presume he used his sleeve to wipe his face.
Mortem looks put together as always. I grab his jacket and hand it back to him. He shakes his head.
“Leave it here. It’s my favorite one. I’d never want to be away from it long,” he says.
I can’t help but smile. That’s the type of reassurance I need. Sure, it’s a stupid jacket, but it’s a promise in its own way: he isn’t going to cut and run.
“Is there anything else you need before we go?” Krampus asks.
“Can one of you grab the gift? Then I think I’m ready.”
Mortem stands, his height always intimidating as he bends down and grabs the package. I have to hold back a giggle with how precious he looks holding the wrapped box.
Krampus comes between us, holding each of our hands as he portals us to his home in the North Pole.
We’re dropped in front of a gorgeous cottage surrounded by a thick blanket of snow. His home is wrapped in chunky colored lights, and I can see the Christmas tree lit up in his living room.
This was definitely not what I expected his home to look like. It seems sweet and cozy.
I glance up at Mortem, and his jaw ticks slightly. I don’t ask him what’s bothering him, as Krampus leads us inside.
It’s small, but precious. A fireplace is crackling next to the tree, where Mortem places the gift and he takes a seat on the large green velvet couch.
“I’m going to shower, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen.” Krampus says. I tilt my head as I look at him.
He glances at Mortem, and my heart flutters. He’s purposefully giving me a moment with the reaper. I smile at Krampus as he heads in the opposite direction toward his bathroom. I can hear the shower start, and I turn, sitting on my leg so I can face Mortem.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“I can’t give you this. My home in Purgatory is plain, simple, and devoid of personality,” he says.
I hate to admit it, but it’s refreshing knowing that I’m not the only insecure one.
Going off instinct, I scoot closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh.
“Why don’t you think you deserve anything good?” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine and I wonder how many people Mortem confides in, or how often he feels like he can let his guard down.
“My life is consumed with death, of managing those who collect souls. I have to be rigid because that’s what this life demands, or at least that’s what I thought. I’m the Head Reaper, Candy. Do you know what that means?”
“Yeah, you’re in charge of your realm,” I say quickly. I mean, that’s what Cupio does.
“It’s more than that. I was the first reaper; I chose how Purgatory would be run; I am the reason so many reapers have fled to Cupidale looking for peace and love. I’m not a good man, Candy, I don’t deserve you or happiness. I’ve created a fucking mess of everything.”
“Hey,” I say, unable to help myself as I crawl into his lap. He looks shocked by my movement, but he places his hands on my hips anyway.
His face is full of emotion. I’m not sure anyone else has seen him this vulnerable before.
“That’s a lot of guilt to place on yourself, Mortem. I haven’t been to Purgatory, but from what Gloom says he doesn’t dislike it. He doesn’t blame you, neither do any of the reapers I’ve met. Cupidale is different, cupids are different, it doesn’t mean we’re better. Our job is spreading love, yours is giving grace and reassurance to their path to the afterlife. That’s not an easy job, neither is carrying all this weight. If you’re not happy with how you handled things in Purgatory, then change them. Don’t ruin a good thing because you don’t feel like you deserve it.”
