Page 15 of Trick Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve)

“Witching hour closes in,” she adds. “Don’t wait too long.” She starts to leave, then pauses for a moment, casting one last look over her shoulder. “Not all monsters show in the mirror, but the reflection always tells the truth, if you’re brave enough to look.”

And just like that, she vanishes into the crowds.

Ash and I are left with the scroll between us, silence settling like fog.

I glance at him. “You still ready to do this?”

His hand finds mine again.

“Now more than ever.”

Ash breaks the seal immediately, unrolling the parchment. We both lean in to read it.

The page is completely blank.

“Is this a fucking joke?” Ash growls, and this time the sound is purely human frustration.

I take the parchment from him, holding it up to the light. Nothing. Turn it over, still nothing. Hold it at an angle, squint at it, even sniff it, and absolutely zilch.

“There’s nothing here,” I admit, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice and mostly failing.

“Reflection,” Ash mutters. “She mentioned some cryptic message about reflection? ”

“Mirrors,” I say. “They could show our message on the parchment.”

We search the ballroom first, and the mirrors here are all decorative and gilt-framed, so we both move quickly to the one closest to us at the rear of the ballroom.

I lift the page to the mirror, and we both stare into its reflection.

“Fuck!” Ash is frowning.

The parchment stays stubbornly blank.

“She did say ‘witching hour.’ That’s three a.m.,” I explain, slumping against a wall. “Maybe we just have to wait.”

Ash checks his watch. “It’s only one thirty. We have time to kill.”

“Well, I can’t kill it dressed like this.” I gesture at myself—his jacket, which barely covers the essentials, and shoes that have definitely seen better days. “I need clothes. Real clothes.”

“I don’t know.” He almost purrs the words. “I’m rather fond of this look.”

“Of course you are. It’s your jacket.”

“It looks better on you.”

“Everything would look better on me right now. A potato sack would be an improvement.”

Ash glances at me for a long pause. “Stay here,” he orders. “I might have a solution. Something that’ll cover you up better. ”

And then he disappears into the ballroom crowd, leaving me to lean against a wall and try not to feel too exposed. The wolf is restless, pacing inside me, wanting to find him. It’s disturbing how quickly I’ve gotten attached to Ash’s presence, how wrong it feels when he’s not near.

He returns carrying a dress, deep green silk that actually looks like it might fit. “Found this in the coat check. Someone left it with a note saying ‘For whoever needs it more.’?”

“That’s either very kind or very cursed.”

“Only one way to find out.”

I slip into a nearby powder room to change, and miracle of miracles, the dress fits perfectly.

It’s simple but elegant—long sleeves, hem that hits just above my knees with a sexy slit up the side of my leg, low back that shows the scratches I definitely don’t remember getting.

When I emerge, Ash’s expression makes the whole cursed night worth it.

“You look…” he starts, then stops, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Like a person wearing actual clothes?”

“Beautiful. Stunning. Hypnotic,” he says simply, and the sincerity in his voice has me blushing.

“You need a new shirt,” I deflect, but my voice comes out breathier than intended.

He takes the jacket from my hands and slides it on, tucking the parchment paper into its pocket. “This will do. Now, let’s pretend we’re just two people at a party. No curse, no power swap, no zombies in the woods.”

“That’s a lot of pretending.”

“I’m very good at faking it.” He offers me his arm. “Dance with me?”

“I should warn you—I’m terrible at it. Two left feet, no sense of rhythm, and a tendency to step on toes.”

“Perfect. I have a tendency to lead whether my partner wants me to or not.”

We step onto the dance floor, where the party is somehow more intense. The music is darker now, thrumming with bass that I feel in my bones. Bodies press together, and more than a few couples are definitely doing more than dancing in the shadows.

Ash pulls me into the crowd, and I discover that he wasn’t lying about the leading thing.

He moves with the kind of confidence that makes up for my complete lack of coordination, his hand resting low on my back, just shy of indecent, as he guides me through the steps.

Every touch sends heat pooling low in my belly.

When I stumble, he catches me easily, palm sliding along my waist, fingers brushing the side of my breast like it’s nothing. Like he doesn’t notice. But the way his eyes darken says otherwise. My pulse skitters. I let out a breathless laugh, and his grin flashes in return, wolfish, knowing.

He leans in, lips grazing the shell of my ear. “I want you to know that I meant everything I said back there. With the witch.”

My smile fades into something softer, needier. I can’t meet his eyes without feeling scorched. “Me too,” I finally admit. “And I’m letting you take the lead,” I murmur, not referring to just the dancing anymore.

His fingers flex at my waist, tugging me a fraction closer, until the press of our bodies turns the dance into something else entirely. My chest brushes his with every breath. Heat bursts low in my stomach, and I stop pretending this is just about movement.

“Where did you learn to dance?” I gasp, breath fluttering across his ear as the music swells around us.

“Pack gatherings,” he murmurs, his voice rough and warm against my neck. “My mother insisted all young wolves learn. Said it was about knowing how to move with a partner. Reading their body. Trusting the rhythm. Giving in, taking control, sometimes both at once.”

“Sounds like she knew her stuff.”

“She did.” His hand skims lower, dragging me closer. “She’s gone. But she’s in everything I do.” He grins, eyes glinting.

Before I can answer, he twirls me out, spinning me with ease, then draws me back in so fast I stumble, landing flush against his chest. His face is inches from mine. His breath is mine. His gaze drops to my lips.

And then he kisses me .

It’s not a gentle brush. It’s deep and slow and claiming. My knees weaken, hands gripping his shoulders, needing him to hold me up and never let go.

A loud whistle cracks through the haze.

“Get it, girl! That’s my girl, Erynn!” Sera suddenly yells from across the dance floor. “You two look like you’re about to scandalize the entire ballroom.”

I pull back, laughing into Ash’s shoulder. He grins and wraps his arms around me, tucking me into him like he has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he asks, mouth against my hair. “Something real. Just yours.”

I hesitate, then tilt my head to look up at him. “I used to live in a little red house tucked deep in the Finnish forest. Quiet. Secluded. You could hear the wolves howling at night.”

His brow lifts slightly. “Which forest?”

“North of Lake Saimaa.”

He goes still, fingers tightening slightly at my waist. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“I grew up in those same woods.” He leans in, brushing his nose along my cheek. “My pack’s land is on the other side of the ridge.”

I blink up at him, stunned. “You’re from Finland?”

“Born and raised. Middle of nowhere. Closest neighbor was probably your ghosts.”

My breath hitches, and I can’t help the smile that slips free. “So all this time… I was listening to your pack from across the ridge?”

He grins, full and bright, eyes flashing gold for just a second. “Fate, huh? Maybe not as cruel as we thought.”

He twirls me gently beneath his arm, catching me close, and this time his hand settles low on my back again. Our bodies press together, and I feel the heat of him through every point of contact.

“Tell me something else,” he murmurs, lips brushing the curve of my jaw like a secret. “Something that has nothing to do with ghosts or tonight.”

I try to think through the pounding of my heart. “I moved to Helsinki for a job with the Nordic Institute of Posthumous Communications.”

His hand tightens just slightly, his thumb sweeping a slow stroke over my spine. “You left the forest for the city?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “The silence got too loud with too many ghosts.” I pause, then glance up at him. “You know those woods are controlled by the Dukes, right?”

His brow lifts. “The mercenary brothers.”

I nod. “Khaos, Eryx, and Tallis. Half brothers. Dangerous, rich, and ruthless. Everyone in the north has heard of them. They run the biggest mercenary operation around… and their grandfather, part god, still pulls strings behind the scenes.”

Ash lets out a low hum, something like amusement. “ Yeah, I know them. Did some work for them years back—tracking, intel, protection gigs. They’ve settled now, believe it or not. Found their mate, Billie. Had twins.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Wildest part? They’re good fathers.”

Ash pulls me closer again, and now there’s no space left between us. His thigh presses between mine as we move, our rhythm slower, deeper. I feel his breath on my cheek, his mouth so close to mine.

“Your family still out there?” he asks.

“Not really. My parents never quite accepted me for what I am. The ghosts scared them. I scared them. It was only my grandmother who had the same ability as me.”

He hums, his lips brushing the edge of my cheekbone. “Their loss. If they’d known what they were letting go of…”

I tilt my face toward him, drawn in by heat and gravity. His gaze drops to my lips. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me again?—

“Remind me to thank the witch for cursing us,” he murmurs instead.

I glance up at him through my lashes, heart racing. “Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.”

He dips his head again, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. “You are so beautiful.”

A tremor slips down my spine. It’s not the curse. It’s not even the residual energy of the dead pressing at the edges of the ballroom. It’s him.