“Funeral,” Grim said at the same time.
I shot him a glare.Really? A funeral?
“Oh,” the cabbie said, his voice dipping into solemnity. “I’m very sorry to hear that. My condolences to you both.”
Grim nodded graciously.
“Funeral?” I questioned, elbowing him hard in the side.
He bent low, warm breath ghosting over my temple. “You’ve made quite the mess of the cosmic balance, darling. It’s the least I could do to stage your demise properly.”
“Mydemise?”
“We’re almost there,” he clipped. Once again, infuriatingly vague.
“Almostwhere?” I asked, this time loud enough to earn a curious glance from the rearview mirror.
His mouth found mine before I could protest. It wasn’t sweet, nor slow. It was strategic, as if he knew the exact shape of my resistance and kissed around it, capturing my mouth in a blood-searing kiss that felt like it might scorch the last innocent piece of my already-tainted soul.
The kiss deepened—his hands, his mouth, his everything folding around me—until the cab driver chuckled and muttered something about “how nice it was to see old love.”
I shoved him, hard. Enough to build the wall between us once more.
Grim had the gall to smirk. “You have no idea,” he muttered back to the cab driver. Clenching his jaw he turned to stare outthe window, thinking the city might offer a distraction from his poor and untimely choice.
I touched my lips, now swollen and burning.Why hadn’t I pulled away sooner?
“You can’t just kiss me to shut me up,” I snapped. Anger rose fast, hot, and furious—not just at him, but at myself, too. For letting it happen. Forwantingit.
He turned, brows drawn in mock confusion, then grinned. That infuriating, knowing grin. He placed a warm hand on my thigh. “Thought I’d spare us from your incessant questions.”
“I hate you.”
“So you’ve said, a thousand times,” he muttered.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate—”
“We’re here!” the cab driver interrupted cheerfully, eyes flicking between us in the rearview mirror.
Grim, undeterred, leaned in close and brushed his lips against the shell of my ear before pressing another kiss to my temple.
I scowled at him as he stepped out and held the door open in his usual manner. He was disorienting and every angle I tried to study revealed another, each one sharper than the last.
Still thinking about that kiss and how recklessly easy it had been to fall into it, I climbed out of the cab, missed the curb, and stumbled. Grim caught me instantly, his hand firm beneath my elbow, steadying me as I gawked at the view before us.
Too distracted to notice we’d driven well beyond city limits, I found myself standing before a historic inn that was more reminiscent of a storybook bed and breakfast than any hotel chain. The colonial-style house stood proud, framed by an expansive garden and a white picket fence. Even blanketed in snow, it felt as though a dream…or perhaps a trap.
“The ocean’s just beyond the garden,” our cab driver said, unloading our bags from the trunk. “My wife and I come here for our anniversary sometimes.”
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, shivering as the cold bit my thin and wrinkled skin through my jacket.
In an instant, warmth enveloped me as Grim's coat appeared around my shoulders, fitting perfectly as though it had always belonged there. He frowned and wrapped it more snugly around me. “Let’s get you inside.”
After tipping the driver and sending him on his way, Grim snapped his fingers, dispelling the enchantment that had cloaked us during the ride. His appearance shimmered, shifting like a trick of the light. Gone was the mundane facade. In its place, he now wore a long black trench coat layered over a slate-gray sweater and dark slacks—classic Grim. He ran a hand through his dark hair, effortlessly tousling it into place.
A second snap and my own disguise melted away. Age slipped off me as though thawing snow. My skin regained its youthful glow, flushed pink from the cold. I caught a curl between my fingers, scowling at the vibrant red restored to its full brilliance, the frizz catching soft snowflakes. I glanced down at my Converse, soaked through and stained with slush creeping up the cuffs of my jeans.
“No magical wardrobe change for the blight?” I quipped, only half joking. He looked like a dark prince out of a cursed fairy tale, and I looked every bit of the tired college student as I pretended to be.
