Page 113 of Grim

From inside his coat, he produces a delicate black mask. Unlike the metaphorical one he wears at almost all times, this mask I can touch and hold.

It is made of lace, leather, and whisper-fine mesh. The edges are etched in silver detailing that catches the ambient light like frost catching moonlight. It’s shaped to hug the face closely, arching up at the temples in curling designs that remind me of thorns and wings. There are thin feathered accents, not soft or dainty, but sharp—sleek black plumes that fan up like a crown of raven quills. It evokes an immediate sense of danger and beauty, like the mask itself could harm someone and it would be impossible to look away as it happened.

I reach for it instinctively, but Kane stops me with a slight tilt of his head.

“Let me.”

He steps in closer, and both my breath and spine tighten. The space between us feels like nothing at all, like we fill the empty air in the gap between our physical connection. His scent lingers with hints of cold night air, laced with charred wood.

His fingers brush my cheekbones and then the mask is against my skin. It feels momentarily cold against my flesh.

“Close your eyes,ma chère,” he murmurs, and I do.

His knuckles graze the curve of my jaw as he cinches the mask into place. Instantly, it feels as though it were molded perfectly to the contours of my face, like it was only ever meant to belong to me.

Cinderella had her glass slipper. I have my black leather-and-lace mask.

The ribbons slide behind my head like satin serpents as he knots them patiently. He moves slowly enough to make me hyperaware of every breath in my lungs and beat of my heart.

When he’s finished, he doesn’t step back. Not yet. His fingers linger near the hollow of my throat, hovering just above my collarbone.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” I whisper, breath catching.

“Of course I am.” His voice slides against my skin like warm smoke. “You should see yourself.” He steps back and stares at me like I’m the only flower in bloom.

I shift under the weight of it, suddenly more aware of the dress, the mask, and the way my chest rises and falls beneath the corset.

Kane clears his throat and breaks the moment like he’s snapped a whip.

“Something’s missing,” he says, scanning me appraisingly.

“Missing?” I lift a brow. “You’re not about to suggest glitter, are you? Because if you bedazzle me, Grim, I swear I’ll—”

He cuts me off with the barest twitch of his mouth. “Hold out your hand, Mayday.”

I hesitate momentarily, then comply.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a long thin black box that looks an awful lot like a jewelry box.

“Is that?” I ask, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Just open it,” he grumbles with an expression on his face that I have not seen before. There is a crack in that confident veneer as he hands over the box.

I open the lid of the felt box to reveal a gorgeous gold necklace inside. A delicate gold chain holds a pair of sapphires, set off by a stunning diamond in the center. This is not just any necklace. It’sthenecklace—the one I saw during our trip to the mall.

I blink away the moisture in my eyes as I wrap my head around the gesture.

“You …” I trail off, looking up at him. “How did you get this?”

Kane shrugs nonchalantly. “I thought it suited you.”

“You thought it suited me?” I repeat in disbelief.

“I thought you’d like it,” he mutters with that slightcrack appearing again. He hardens in the next beat when he says, “Don’t make a scene.”

I blink again, trying not to let it show on my face how much this gesture means to me. The piece of jewelry is beautiful, but more than that, the gesture says that he saw me. He remembered something that mattered to me and found a way to make it mine. I lift the necklace, fingers brushing the cool metal, and Kane steps in again, taking it from my hands with a sigh.