Amos sighed as he looked at the two pretty fairies. The one who used to be a gnome was an adorable brunette, looking so, as if he was just venturing into adulthood.
Alex… he was an adorable vision, but the word adorable put Amos off. He was not ready to be proclaimed out of the running. The Grim Reaper bowed to the two fairies, manifesting another black rose.
Why not? He had not given a mandate since the witch in the forest had died. The lovely elderly lady whom he had helped with her shopping had kicked him where the sun did not shine. A feisty spirit.
It had not hurt, but Amos had decided to preserve her pride. He was not, no matter what Karma told the world, a forceful creature.
Their wedding night had been the beginning, not the end. Something he had tried to tell his husband more than once.
Only to be saddled with that horrible saying: Until Death does us apart.
As if Love cared if someone was dead or not.
