Blair stepped into his space and tilted her head. “Trick.”
Ashar caught her waist and pulled her flush to him. “Treat,” he growled, mouth already finding hers.
They didn’t make it to the bedroom.
Or the couch.
They barely made it inside the door.
They turned off the porch light, and her witch hat hit the floor first. Her tights tore mid-gasp. His belt clattered, then the jacket, and then everything else.
Their clothes made a trail from hallway to wall, breadcrumbs of lust and want.
Ashar pinned her against the cool plaster, mouth hot and searching, hands everywhere. Her laughter melted into moans, fingers tangled in his hair like rope she didn’t plan to let go of.
Because she didn’t, because this, this felt different.
Not desperate, not borrowed, just them, real, raw, magical.
And somewhere, between heated kisses and whispered names, the words slipped out.
“I think I want to keep you.”
Not planned, not polished, just the truth.
Ashar’s lips brushed her collarbone. His voice, when it came, was steady.
“Then don’t let go.”
And she didn’t.
12
Epilogue: The Devil You Knew
Blair opened her front door the day after Halloween morning and froze.
The chill of dawn brushed her bare arms, but that wasn’t what stopped her. It was the pumpkin.
There, on her porch, sat a single, perfect pumpkin, the day after Halloween. No note, no ribbon, no context.
Merely a carving.
At first glance, it looked decorative, ornate, perhaps overambitious. But something about it tugged at her eyes like it didn’t want to be looked at directly. Not all at once. Swirls curved into sharp lines. Nested circles layered into patterns that felt sentient. The design shimmered when the sun kissed it, as if the air itself were holding its breath.
Her heart began to race.
She stepped closer. The static built on her skin, as it does when you stand beneath a sky seconds before a lightning strike.
And then, like a page turning in a book she hadn’t known she was reading, the runes shifted.
It changed into four little words.
Will you marry me?
Her breath caught. The world narrowed to a pinpoint and expanded in the same instant. She blinked, once, twice, as if testing whether she was dreaming. But the porch stayed solid beneath her feet. The air smelled like cinnamon and cold.
Then,
