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thirty-one

W aking up in the arms of someone I loved was a privilege I realized I'd never had before. What James and I shared—it wasn’t love. It was attraction, desire, and a mutual hunger to fill the hollow spaces inside us.

Grim’s fingers traced lazy circles along the curve of my back, a grounding, steady rhythm that calmed parts of me I hadn’t even realized were still trembling. At some point during the night, Reaper had weaseled his way into the room, his small, sleeping form curled at the foot of the bed.

I smiled at the sight.

Grim's voice rumbled low against my temple. "Are we going to talk about the dog?"

I tipped my chin up, catching his storm-colored eyes with my own, and answered sweetly, "No."

He chuckled, a sound I felt more than heard. "Then what would you like to talk about, Star?"

There was so much we could talk about—the curse, the spirits, the consequences of last night.

But none of it felt pressing.

Not when his scent clung to my skin, not when the heat of him still wrapped around me like a second blanket.

I traced a slow circle over the sharp plane of his chest with my fingertip.

"Maybe," he said softly, "we can start with the way you sent those souls on.

" Grim shifted, sitting up further against the headboard, dragging the sheet with him.

The soft morning light caught the jagged lines of old scars across his torso, badges of battles I knew he would never speak of unless asked.

"It makes sense, considering you are able to bring back the dead.

.. It would make sense that you could help them cross over, too. "

He looked at me then, not as if I was fragile, but vital. A terrifying and yet awe inspiring creature.

“I healed you,” I said, a thread of wonder woven through my voice. I still wasn’t sure how I had managed it, and doubted I could do it again.

“Yes—” he started.

“Were those restless spirits?” I interrupted, the question bursting from me. “The ones who attacked you before?”

Grim continued a slow, soothing pattern along my spine. He shifted, adjusting me against him until my cheek rested over the steady drum in his chest. Warmth blossomed beneath my skin, and I clung to it.

“Some find it difficult to move on,” he said quietly. “Past this life.”

“And you help them?” I regret the words as they left my mouth. They were too sharp, too accusing, though I hadn’t meant them that way.

Grim leaned back, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down his nose at me. “You think me incapable of compassion?”

“No," I murmured quickly. "Not incapable. I just… I’ve never thought of Death as compassionate. At least, not purposefully .”

His gaze searched mine, and after a moment, he asked, “What do you think flashes through a mind when they meet their end?”

I hesitated.

“If you were to die today, Astoria…” His voice was barely a breath against my skin. “What would you think of, before I stole your breath away?”

That answer came without hesitation.

My children. The golden shards of childhood, when my mother was still soft, and my grandmother was still vibrant. Ishani, Piper, Sanjay, Day… even Grim.

Mostly you , I wanted to say. Always you . “I’d think of my children. And you... and that first trip to London, when you accompanied me.”

Grim nodded, pressing soft kisses against my head.

“I’d think of the way this feels. The brush of our skin. I’d think of Arthur’s blue eyes, Leo’s quick wit. I’d want to hear Bea’s laughter one more time, to wrap Ishani in another hug.”

“Those moments have one thing in common, Star...” he whispered. “Love.”

I hadn’t understood it then—when he haunted me from the shadows, hunting me to the ends of the earth, determined to make his point about cosmic forces beyond my control. The rules I had broken. The price I would pay.

“Some spirits are not so lucky,” Grim said, battling a lump in his throat. “The process is not always easy. There was an accident—” He paused, breathing carefully. “I was overrun. They met their fate in a horrific way. I couldn’t... it just wasn’t enough.”

The faded scars lacing his arms were proof enough of his sacrifice.

“Does it hurt?” I traced a path along his arm.

“Yes, but not always. It’s the price I pay.”

I couldn’t understand it. Why should he endure torment for the fate of others? But then again…

Hadn’t I learned the same? My curse had not come from anything I had done. And yet I bore it.

“Now what?” I asked, though he already knew my thoughts. The curse still loomed over me. My choice remained unchanged. But my soul? That, he could keep.

“We enjoy this,” Death said, voice low and steady. “A moment longer.”

His words were neither comforting nor hopeful. Yet he pulled me closer, our bare forms tangled beneath silky sheets and heavy quilts, the weight of him anchoring me to the earth.

The sunrise crept between the velvet curtains, bathing the room in a soft, bruised purple. And for the first time in my long, cursed existence, I let myself stay.

Grim grumbled when Reaper wriggled out from under the table, flopping dramatically across his boots. “You spoil him,” he said without heat, flicking the dog a dry look.

“I spoil everyone, ” I replied primly, reaching down to ruffle Reaper’s ears. “You’re just jealous.”

“I do not require pampering.”

I snorted and leaned over the table, stealing his abandoned toast and taking a shameless bite. “Clearly,” I said around a mouthful. “You’re a paragon of stoicism.” I flicked my hand dramatically toward his chest. “Nothing but iron and shadows.”

“Give me that,” he growled, snatching the toast back and taking a retaliatory bite where I had bitten.

He reached out and wiped a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, a soft, automatic gesture that made my heart ache.

Reaper gave a grumble of his own, rolling onto his back and pawing the air as if demanding attention. Grim scowled at him. I watched, biting my lip, as he relented after a long, drawn-out sigh and leaned down to scratch behind Reaper’s ears.

“You love him,” I whispered dramatically.

“I tolerate him,” Grim corrected without conviction.

“You’re his favorite person ," I insisted. "He told me so.”

Grim lifted an eyebrow.

“He did,” I said solemnly. “In my dreams. Where all good dogs talk.”

He chuckled under his breath—the deep, rare sound that made my stomach flutter.

We lingered like that, warmth pooling between us, the world outside forgotten.

The camera I’d used earlier sat forgotten on the counter, a strip of polaroids curling slightly in the late afternoon light.

Reaper in Grim’s lap. Grim making a face at me behind a book.

Me attempting to finish my basket, while Grim pretended not to watch.

I wanted to bottle this.

I wanted to live in this.

But the thirteenth biscuit.

The thirteenth hiccup…

“Is something wrong?” Grim asked, peering over his book.

I groaned. I was hoping to wait until this evening when Day was supposed to come for dinner before I’d brought the curse up. “I want to meet with Gentry, again.”

Grim set his book down carefully, turning his attention on me, his handsome features stoic and blank.

My stomach rolled. “I mean, I just think… not that this isn’t nice, and it really has nothing to do with you… I just still, well I think I shou—”

“Astoria.” He frowned. “If you want to see Gentry then we will go.”

“Are you… really?” I said with a bit too much enthusiasm.

“Of course,” he answered, his features never wavering. “You bartered your soul, but I never agreed to a collection date.”

I heard his words—his agreement to uphold our bargain—but his expression told a different story.

Shaking it off, I stood to press a kiss to Grim’s strong jaw, meaning it to be quick, a thank-you, but he caught me before I could pull away. His hands gripped my hips, dragging me into his lap, as if he’d been waiting all day for an excuse.

His mouth found mine without hesitation, hungry and commanding. I gasped against him, my arms wrapping instinctively around his neck as he kissed me as though he meant to consume me, to brand me.

He nipped my bottom lip, soothing the bite with a slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue. When I shifted, squirming, he nudged my legs apart, one large hand moving down my thigh, guiding me until I was straddling him fully.

“Grim—” I managed, but he cut me off with another bruising kiss, all teeth and heat.

“I’m not patient enough to wait for later,” he said roughly against my skin, his voice a low rumble that shot straight through me.

Clothes became obstacles more than necessities. His hands slid under my shirt, greedy and sure, as mine tugged desperately at his.

Somewhere between kisses that left me dizzy and the scrape of his teeth along my throat, we managed to stumble our way toward the sofa. He sank down, dragging me with him, a chaotic tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. The world narrowed to the heat of his hands, the urgency of our bodies.

Nothing else mattered. Not fate. Not curses. Not tomorrow.

Only now. Only him.

The rest—blessedly, mercifully—disappeared.