Page 28 of Grave Expectations

“And last,” he said.

She stepped back from him, frowning. “Last?”

“Well, I don’t intend for there to be another—ghost or mortal—intimate with you.”

Roz opened her mouth to ask what he meant when Rowen appeared from the back of the shop, holding a bag before him. He was still on the phone, his head tilted to press it into his shoulder and keep his hands free. He nodded to her and mouthed “sorry” before disappearing into the back once more.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Perhaps he’d been too forward with Rosalin.

Alaric watched her from the corner of his eye as they walked down Main Street back to the cemetery. She was quiet, her teeth working her lip, her fingers tight on the handle of the bag of cinnamon rolls.

He opened his mouth once or twice to speak, shutting it quickly as he considered what he meant to say. He’d promised he’d be more intentional with her. Rosalin meant a great deal to him, he wasn’t about to ruin that with his impulsive thoughts.

Was it impulsive if he’d been thinking it for a long time?

The last five years of watching her had been one-sided. He felt he knew her so intimately, cared for her so deeply. But what was he to her? A ghost with a reputation far kinder than he deserved, dragged from a purgatory by accident. He’d disrupted her life, upset her family, and upended her peace.

She deserved a human man, one who was visible to more than just her family.

And yet he’d opened his mouth in the heat of the moment and claimed her like some vampire, like some werewolf. It was so primal, this need to make sure she understood exactly where she stood with him.

And now she was chewing a hole in her lip and holding the bag of cinnamon rolls like they might save her.

Rosalin locked the gates to the cemetery behind her. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and a cool breeze pulled at the edge of her dress. His gaze went to the hem, unbidden. The last time he’d been able to touch a woman, they were barely allowed to show an ankle. There was still something scandalous to him about the flash of skin. He adjusted himself discreetly.

“I have upset you,” he said suddenly.

“What? No.” Rosalin jumped, almost as if she’d forgotten he was there.

Alaric put a hand on Rosalin’s arm to stop her. She was so warm and alive, her skin so soft. It was a marvel he had the control to keep his hands off her.

“It was not common for a man to speak his heart in my time,” he started, struggling for the words. “We claimed, we did not ask. I fear that I have done just that with you. Your aunt is right, you have a long life ahead of you. It is selfish for me to want to be a part of it.”

Rosalin’s eyes were so wide, Alaric feared he’d crossed the line at last. Suggestive taunts were one thing, but affection? He’d watched enough movies in the theatre to see how this generation feared voicing it. From the outside, it seemed so silly! He’d often yelled at the screen, begging the characters to just communicate. Now here he was, fumbling with his words, worried that she’d reject him.

“Be a part of it?” Rosalin asked slowly.

“Well, yes. I enjoy your company. No, it is more than that—I enjoy your mind. I like when you laugh, and I want to be the one who makes you do it. I want to help you in the cemetery, I want to fall asleep with you. I want all the things mortals want, and I want them with you.

“But it is selfish. I would forever be your invisible companion, and I would keep you from your life. So forgive my words in the bakery, they were spoken without thinking of your wants or needs.”

Rosalin’s cheeks grew a darker shade of pink the more he spoke. He was embarrassing her, he should stop speaking. Thankfully, she spoke before he could ramble any more.

“The curse…I thought you wanted it broken, so you could move on?” she asked.

Ah, there it was. This was temporary, a fling. He’d seen that in the movies, too. Unrequited affection. Summer lo⁠—

He stopped himself before he even thought the word.

“I do want it broken,” he said. “I just thought…”

Rosalin waited for him to finish. Her wide eyes darted across his face, taking in every inch of it. She saw him so thoroughly, and not just because she’d tethered him. Her endless patience, her kindness, her keen gaze and wit. It bore right into him, understanding him in a way that no one had before.

In a way he’d never let anyone before.

“If we break the curse,” she said at last when he did not answer, “and we free you, do you want to stick around?”