Grim’s lips twitched. He knew the words were just a shield—I hid behind humor when everything in me wanted to scream.
“I appreciate it.” He leaned closer. “You’ve really tortured me, you know.”
His hand landed on my tights-clad thigh. A simple movement, but my breath caught. The pressure of his fingers was a brand, marking my skin. He didn’t have to say anything for me to feel the weight of the gesture.
Ever since I had adopted my jeans-and-Converse uniform, I’d been hard-pressed to wear much else. But today was my 134thbirthday, and I was in France. The occasion called for something different. Something just for me.
A dress. Black and fitted and flattering.
“I can’t see anything surrounding your curse,” he said, squeezing my leg.
My stomach rioted in nerves, and something else I couldn’t name.
“I can’t do anything about it. It’s infuriating, and it consumes me. I want to be rid of you.”
The words stung more than I cared to admit.
His gaze was sharp, searching my face as though trying to carve something out of me. He let out a frustrated sigh. “In the perfect lay of the world I have, you’re this incessantly annoying wrinkle I can’t seem to smooth out. For all the times I’ve tried to erase you from existence... you just won’t budge.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You’ve tried to kill me?”
“Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I’ve tried, too. And spoiler alert, it never works.”
Grim’s expression shifted and his usually cool demeanor cracked just slightly, the shadows surrounding him flaring around us. “You think that’s funny?” His voice dropped, quieter now, more dangerous.
“No,” I laughed. “But it’s just... kind of pathetic, don’t you think? You and I, stuck in this endless game.”
His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, I almost thought he was going to say something else, until the words died in his throat. Instead, he let the silence stretch on, and I realized the truth of his frustration was just as raw as my own.
Squeezing my thigh, the scalding touch disappeared with his hand as he moved to pull something from the pocket of his slacks. A glint of silver flashed between us before he reached for my hand once more, his fingers cool against my skin as he gently opened my palm.
“A memento mori.” He dropped the necklace into my hand, the weight of it unnervingly heavy.
It wasn’t just jewelry, it was his reminder. A sharp and biting one.
The cold metal settled against my skin as I examined it. A simple silver chain, but the charm... I could feel the taunting weight of it. An hourglass, etched with delicate florals, the sand almost run out.
I stared at it, my heart twisting. “You’re vile,” I said, the words slipping from my mouth with a venom I could taste.If only I could actually choke on it.I wanted him to understand how much I truly loathed him, how every inch of my being hated the very space he took up.
Death smiled, relishing in my discomfort as I recoiled from him.
“For your birthday, Tempest,” he purred, with a mocking look.
I squeezed the charm tightly in my palm, the floral filigree biting into my skin. “What is it you want from me, really?” I fixed my gaze on the necklace, as if it could explain the twisted dance between us.
Grim's eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous behind them. “It’s not what I want. It’s what you need.”
My death.
“More or less,” he muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair.
Did he think I chose this? Did he think, if given the choice, I would choose this curse? To watch as my family aged and died without me, to stand still while time passed me by, a cruel reminder that I was a forgotten soul?
But then again, I wouldn’t have been able to save so many lives. It was both a blessing and a curse.
“If you had the power to save someone, to give them another chance, wouldn’t you do it?”
