She shifted closer, her knee brushing his thigh. Her hand raised, brushing her curtain of white hair away from her face—he remembered vividly the way the strands had shrouded her breasts from him. Auren’s throat tightened.
"You can kiss me anytime you want. You don’t have to ask, Auren."
He removed his right glove and laid it on his lap, letting his bare fingers brush over the shape of her face. When his lips brushed her cheek, she made a tiny sound, so he did it again, loving the way her skin was so warm beneath his lips, how the scent of her was so overwhelming this close.
Auren pulled away. "I will take you, Vesperin. You have learned that some things are better not done alone. I am proud you have asked me this. Remember my vow to you, my scythe answers your call, as do I."
Vesperin dressed warmly after Auren told her to.
When she stood before him, hands clad in the incubus’s gifted mittens, the hem of a too-large sweater poking from beneath a borrowed jacket, she tipped her chin up. "I’m ready. Let’s go."
Auren found what he was looking for on the foot of the bed, as if she slept with it like a stuffed animal—the wintry hat. He offered it to her, but she didn’t take it; instead, she stepped closer, a silent offer.
Slowly, he placed the hat on her head—much more gently than Cyrus had when he gifted it to her.
Auren swept her hair away from her shoulders, grabbed her hand, and cut his scythe through the air, thinking of the graveyard’s location.
His gloved fingers tightened around hers. "It will be disorienting. Do not let go of me."
"Never," she vowed, and Auren pulled her through the portal.
Rin would’ve fallento the snow-packed ground if not for Auren’s steady hands, pulling her against his warm chest.
She leaned into him for only a heartbeat before staggering away, one hand pressed to her suddenly throbbing temples. She felt disconnected from her body, spinning. Slowly, the disorientation relented. Auren remained silent, hovering to catch her if she fell.
When she was able to stand upright without feeling like she would throw up from the dizziness, she tipped her head to watch snow falling in thick drifts. Her mittened hands reached out to catch the flakes. They melted against the fabric on her palms.
"It’s beautiful," Rin murmured.
"It is," said Auren in a melancholic tone.
She turned to look at Auren, finding him already staring at her. Snow swirled around his soft blonde hair. His hood was pushed back, scythe clutched in a gloved hand. He was gorgeous like a sculpture, something created to be looked upon but never touched.
Rin cleared her throat and set off toward Kit’s grave, Auren following. It was dark, and everything was covered in snow, and her last memories of this place were soaked in grief.
"I think it was over here," Rin whispered, walking past a row of mausoleums.
Auren hummed in response.
The graveyard was cloaked in frost and moonlight. It was far from the city, but she imagined the faint pop and crackle of celebratory fireworks to ring in the coming New Year.
The ground was packed with white snow, her small footprints trailed by Auren’s larger ones. She bent to wipe her mitten on a stone, revealing an unmarked grave.
She was aware of Auren behind her. She felt like she couldn’t think with him here. She needed space to breathe, to let the memories come.
Crouched before a grave, snow coating her mittens, she uttered, "I need to be alone. I’m not asking you to leave me here…" No, she had learned her lesson on running away and trying to do things alone. "I just need to be alone,feelalone, for a minute."
Her hair shifted as Auren’s gloved fingers stroked over the ends. "Very well, Hunter. I will be watching you. Call if need be, and I will help you. I only say so because I know you are not armed, not because I do not think you are incapable." He gave a low, pretty laugh. "We both know you areverycapable."
She heard the rustle of fabric behind her as he left.
"Thank you," she whispered, and heard nothing in reply but the unmistakable hush of falling snow.
As Rin stood, there was a tingle at her nape. He was close.
She felt his eyes on her as she walked deeper through the maze of headstones, each dusted with snow. Their symmetry was disorienting.
Finally, she found Kit’s grave. She stilled, her forearm hovering over the just-wiped surface.
