Page 48

I wasn’t used to getting gifts.

Not in the way Grace Martin had just handed me a package with an expectant face, like she was waiting for me to either hate it or have a life-altering epiphany over a piece of cardboard.

“Go on,” she said, “open it.”

I eyed the package suspiciously, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Is it a pair of handcuffs?”

Grace rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched in amusement. “Just open it.”

Sighing, I tore off the brown paper, revealing a small box. When I flipped open the lid, I went still.

A toy model of a ‘67 Mustang sat neatly inside, a sleek black finish with silver details. My chest tightened slightly.

I had mentioned— once —that night we went to the Riftkeeper’s, how if I could, I would drive this very car in the future, as far as possible from this place. She remembered. No matter how stupid the idea was.

I lifted the tiny car out of the box, rolling the wheels between my fingers. It was ridiculous. Completely pointless. And yet...

“I know it’s not the real thing but think of it as a step closer to your future,” she started rambling like she always did when she was nervous. “I thought you’d like it, but if you don’t, I can throw it away, or I can—”

“Come here,” I murmured, and Grace blinked, her breath hitching slightly as I set the car aside and grabbed her waist, yanking her onto my lap.

She gasped, hands landing on my shoulders for balance. “That’s a strong reaction to a toy car.”

“Mm.” I smirked, tracing my fingers along her spine. “Guess you just know how to get me at your feet willingly.”

I crashed my mouth to hers, swallowing the small gasp she let out. Her fingers curled into my chest as I deepened the kiss, dragging her closer until there was no space left between us.

This girl was ruining me. And I was letting her.

She pulled back for air, eyes glazed over, lips swollen. Fucking perfect. “I didn’t know a tiny Mustang could turn you on so much.”

I chuckled, dragging my lips down the side of her throat just to feel her shudder. “I’m a man of many pleasures, Bambi.” I smirked against her skin before murmuring, “You... and apparently toy models of fast cars.”

She laughed breathlessly before kissing me again, more frantic this time. I leaned back, gripping her hips, prepared to forget everything else in the world—

Then the door swung open.

For fuck’s sake.

“Fucking shitballs!” Came Silas’s voice from the hallway. “Azrael is such a dickhead. I swear if I have to sit through another one of his speeches about discipline, I’m gonna shove that cane of his far up his ass—”

Grace and I froze.

My brain caught up at the same time as hers. We weren’t alone anymore.

I barely had time to react before Grace frantically rolled off my lap and straight onto the floor with an undignified thump. I choked on a laugh as she scrambled under the bed like a fucking ninja.

Silas walked into my room without knocking and was still ranting. “I mean, do I look like I care about inner discipline? The only thing I want to discipline is—”

He stopped.

His eyes narrowed on me, more specifically at the very obvious issue happening in my lap.

I stared back at him, already fucking done with this entire situation.

Silas blinked. “Bro... are you turned on by my misery or something?”

I dragged a hand down my face and gritted out through clenched teeth, “Get. Out.”

He didn’t move.

“Because, man, I get some people are into weird shit, but if you—”

I grabbed the nearest object—a pillow—and chucked it at his face.

Silas dodged easily, still smirking. “I’m just saying you should talk to someone about this; I wouldn’t want the Celestials finding out.”

“Out.” I stood and shoved him back into the hallway.

“But Cain, man, I need some advice here—”

I shut the door in his face, locking it—which is what I should have done from the beginning—and the second I heard Silas’s mumbled complaints dissipate; a muffled snort of laughter came from under my bed.

I looked down. Grace was still under there, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Shut up,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop the small grin pulling at my lips.

She crawled out, brushing herself off before sitting cross-legged on my bed. “So... we’ve learned that you have very specific triggers.”

I scowled at her, picking up the toy Mustang again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Grace’s eyes widened slightly.

I realized what I said.

Shit.

I cleared my throat, hoping to recover myself from the blunder. “You know, in a tolerable way.”

Grace tilted her head, smiling in a way that made my stomach flip. “So, what I’m hearing is that you no longer find me a nuisance?”

“I think we established that a while ago, Grace.”

She chuckled, dragging me onto the bed with her. I groaned as she nestled her head into the crook of my neck, and the scent of strawberries filled the space. She was becoming an addiction and that was dangerous. Too fucking dangerous. But I couldn’t stop it. I was too far in with her.

I took a deep breath through my nose, staring at the ceiling. Grace’s fingers ran circles along my chest before she tilted her head, and I felt her lips smiling against my neck.

“Hunter?”

I hummed, afraid if I looked down at her, I’d lose any restraint—not that I had any around her.

“I like you too... in a tolerable way, of course.”

Yeah... I was done for.