Behind her, Ashar leaned against the wall like a walking Halloween fantasy. Black jeans. Combat boots. Fitted black tee. A red leather jacket, like the final boss ofa forbidden dating sim. His horns were back, small, subtle, just enough to pass as a costume.
But Blair knew better.
“Okay,” she said, juggling a candy bowl, broomstick, and what was left of her dignity. “No scaring the children.”
Ashar raised an eyebrow, clearly offended. “I don’t scare children. I delight children.”
“You literally grow horns when you get worked up.”
He flashed her a grin, one fang peeking out. “Then let’s hope no dads flirt with you tonight.”
She shoved a plastic pumpkin full of Snickers into his hands. “Try to behave.”
He leaned in, mouth brushing her neck, voice low and far too amused. “Define behave.”
Blair bit her lip and cursed softly.
* * *
The neighborhood bathed in gold and ember as the sun slid behind the trees. Fall clung stubbornly to the branches, leaves spinning down like whispers. Porch lights flickered to life. Skeletons rattled gently in the breeze. Somewhere down the block, “Thriller” played on a loop from a tiny Bluetooth speaker.
The first trick-or-treaters arrived like summoned spirits: a toddler dressed as a marshmallow, two glitter-fighting Elsas, and a very serious Spider-Man with a lispy “thank you.”
Ashar knelt, conjuring harmless sparks that danced and fizzled above his palm like fireflies with flair. The kids gasped. One Elsa squealed. The toddler just stared, pacifier bobbing.
“Are you a real devil?” Spider-Man asked, awe in his voice.
“Only on weekends,” Ashar said gravely.
Blair stifled a laugh. “Okay, Prince of Darkness, let’s not traumatize them.”
Ashar winked as the kids scampered away.
She tried not to swoon.
An hour passed in a haze of sugar and laughter. Tiny pirates and feral princesses. Ghosts in crooked bedsheets. Ashar charmed every single one.
Then the teens came.
No costumes, no manners. One shoved a hand into the candy bowl like he was looting it. Another leaned too close to Blair, eyes crawling down her legs.
“Nice costume,” he said, smirking.
Ashar’s smile went razor-sharp. “Happy Halloween,” he said smoothly. “May your acne worsen and your TikTok get shadow-banned.”
The boy blinked. “Uh, what?”
“Go. Now.”
They fled.
Blair turned to him, voice low. “Did you just hex them?”
“Lightly,” he said, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve.
She tried to look stern, but giggles betrayed her.
When the porch light clicked off and the last wrapper had been tossed, Ashar leaned in the doorway, watching her. His eyes were darker now. Smoldering.
