She stops pacing directly in front of me and then glances up at me with her brown eyes.

  “There is nothing to be afraid of,” I tell her, trying to urge her to hurry up. Rushing a soul is something I avoid at all costs, but the longer she stays in this world, the more chaos will ensue. She must die, and she must die now. “I have reaped thousands upon thousands of souls. You are in good hands, Morgan, of that I can assure you. If there is anything I can do to ease you during this transition, I promise that I will do—”

  Her eyes widen.

  “Deal.”

  “What?”

  “I said deal!” She reaches out and quickly shakes my hand, but I cannot dislodge the feeling of dread that has just washed over me. Why do I feel as though I have just made a deal with a demon?

  3

  Morgan

  “I am not making a bargain with you, human.”

  He tries to pull his cold hand away, but I hang on tightly. I can’t stop looking at his inhuman, skeletal face. Pale flesh is stretched over sharp bones, sunken around the eyes and cheeks, with deep lines around his mouth that I’m sure are going to crack open any second now. His blue eyes are a stark contrast as they gleam with life.

  And now that I have seen his true appearance, a mere glimpse of what he really looks like—even though he is concealing that right now—something about his appearance hits me differently this time. Probably because I’m more aware of what his inhuman features mean.

  He’s otherworldly and absolutely serious about what he’s here to do to me.

  Adrenaline races through my veins, energizing me with the near panic of fight or flight. Fight! I have to fight. If I run, he’ll get me and I’ll lose any chance I might have of bartering for my survival.

  Oh, yes you are making a deal with me, I think as I look up at him.

  Reaping? Time of death? I’m not getting reaped today, tomorrow, or any time soon. He may not have wanted it, but we have a deal now and I’m going to use it to prolong my life until he gets sick of me and goes to find someone else to suck the life out of.

  “Too late. You can’t go back on a handshake. It’s a rule.” That’s what my dad always said. It sounds ridiculously lame, but I go with it.

  “I did not—”

  “Yes, you did. You shook on it. See?”

  I slowly pump his hand up and down to prove my point. He looks at our joined hands, then back to my face. His eyes glimmer with preternatural light, as if he’s going to change appearances again. My heart jumps and I shake his hand harder, but he pulls away with a grunt and wipes his hand on his cloak.

  My eyes track the movement of his hands, white and slender, moving over the midnight robes. The way he moves has a seductive quality. Frowning at my sudden and disturbing train of thought, I try to look away but can’t. What would it feel like to have those inhuman hands running over my heated flesh?

  “I do not understand the meaning of this thing with the hands.” His statement yanks me out of my filthy thoughts.

  Pressing against the exterior wall of the bakery, I palm the cool, rough bricks to further distract me from how unnaturally sexy he is. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, I know. He’s the embodiment of death and he wants to reap me, but there’s something about his eyes and hands that draw me in even though his gaze is deadly and he’s got this skeletal look to him.

  My voice shakes as I force it out of my dry throat. “Once you shake on something, it means you give your word. If you go back on your word, then you have no honor.”

  His eyelids flutter as if attempting a disjointed blink. “Honor?”

  “Yes. It means that you’re a good person and you do what you say you’re going to do.”

  He doesn’t look swayed in the least. Come on, Morgan, think! I’m sure he doesn’t give a shit about honor!

  How the hell do you bargain with a Grim Reaper?

  I have to word things exactly right because if I get it wrong, I’m dead. No more sweet vanilla lattes. No more candy canes or Christmas carols. No more holding out for hope that next season will be better than the last, or that maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the one I’ve been longing for.

  My eyes go wide as a thought hits me.

  “You have to date me for one week!” I blurt, scrambling for the next words. “If I… if I—” Shit! I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had to barter for my life before. Luckily, something comes to mind in a rush and spills out of my mouth. “I-if I make you fall in love with me, you can’t reap me until I’m seventy-nine!”

  Seventy-nine is good. That’s a solid chunk of time to carve out a well-lived life. And if I’m not married by then, there’s probably no hope for me anyway.

  His expression skews, his sharp gaze narrowing on me. I’m doubtful that he understands me, but this is all I have to work with.

  Grimm, as I’ve decided to call him, clasps his hands in front of him and regards me with clear impatience. “No.”

  “Why no?” I bark.

  “Things do not work that way, human.”

  I’m not sure I get what he means. If he wasn’t supposed to make a deal, he shouldn’t have offered one in the first place. That was his mistake, not mine.

  “You shook my hand promising to do anything to make the transition easier. Well, this makes it easier.” I cross my arms and don’t back down.

  My lips curve into the tiniest smile when he grumbles something under his breath. It seems I may have struck a nerve or something, so I press him further.

  “You said that you’re incapable of lying, right?”

  “That is… mostly correct. We can distort the truth if the situation allows.”

  “So then you have to follow through on our deal, and if you do fall in love with me you’d be compelled to tell me the truth about it.” I can’t see any reason as to why he would need to distort the truth about this, so for the time being, my logic is as sound as it’s going to be.

  He gives me a long, moody look and then nods. “The possibility of falling in love with a mortal is zero percent.”

  Ouch.

  Holding my head high, I stare at him, right into his ethereal blue eyes. “Well then, you have nothing to lose, do you?”

  I do, though. If there’s a silver lining in losing, it’s that I get a boyfriend for one full week before I die. In that case, I’m going to make every moment count. This Grim Reaper is going to regret ever setting foot in my store.

  Grimm says nothing, which I take as his acceptance.

  “Great! It’s settled then. One week of dates, and if I win I get to live a long, healthy life.” I nod my head firmly, hope settling into my heart. “What should we do first? Maybe a movie, or some holiday shopping. We could get some stockings and fill—”

  His nostrils flare, and a blasé expression crosses his handsome face. How can a Grim Reaper be so hot while looking like he wants to shred my soul to pieces?

  Maybe that’s how he gets people to succumb willingly to their fate. An image of his arms wide and welcoming crosses my mind. I step into them, devoid of fear, and palm his chest, marveling at the feel of hard, sculpted pecs and, as I run my hands downward, tight, ripped abs. His full lips smile lustfully as I explore his middle and go lower… lower.

  “Human, you did not listen to me.”

  The bite in his tone pulls me back. “What?”

  “You may have forced me into this… deal, but you are only putting off the inevitable. I suggest you spend this week getting your affairs in order—” He stops talking, and then stares at me intently. “What are you thinking that causes your cheeks to turn red?”

  Nothing… nothing at all.

  Pushing away from the wall, I ignore his suggestion and snag his wrist. “Nothing. Let’s get out of this alley.”

  He disappears.

  Poof, right into thin air.

  Stunned, I glance around, but there’s no sign of him. Really? Just like that? It was that easy? Relief floods my entire body.

  “Oh, thank goodness! He got tired of me and left,” I mumble, surprised that I’m off the hook so easily.

  Laughing a little at my luck, I hurry out of the alley and back to my soap shop. A brush with death and I made it out alive. Who would have thought?

  Unlocking the door, the jingle of the overhead bell is music to my ears as I push inside. I shut the door resolutely as if it can keep him from coming back. Blinking at my shop sign, I flip it back to open as if nothing happened. As if my morning was something I dreamed of from drinking too much hot cocoa and spice tea.

  I walk around my store, preparing for my day much later than I normally would, but instead of checking my current stock or wondering how I will ever get through the stack of orders sitting on my back desk, I find myself thinking of things that I shouldn’t. Like Grimm.

  Is it silly that I’m a little disappointed that he left? These feelings are probably nothing more than shock at what I’ve been through today. My nerves are jumbled and my brain can’t sort out what to think or how to feel, so I cling to the one thing I know for sure. Grimm is weirdly attractive, and I don’t know what it says about me that I find him so.

  The air is suddenly disturbed behind me, and a rush of solid, cool breeze pushes against my back.

  I spin with a gasp.

  He’s behind me, in all his robed glory, his hands crossed patiently in front of him.

  “You’re back? Already?”

  “Of course, I am back. Did you think another reaping would delay the inevitable?”

  “Oh.” My brow falls. He left to kill someone. Nice.

  Apparently, that guy didn’t strike a bargain with Death. But I did, and for the time being, it seems to be working. I’m much more than thirty-nine minutes beyond my reaping time by now, and yet he’s not rushing me. He could swing that glimmering scythe and be done with all this, yet he’s standing here expectantly, as if waiting for me to do something.

  The predatory way he’s looking at me makes me squirm. Maybe it’s not working after all. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I have much to do, and you are interfering with my plans, human. We must get on with this.”

  “Get on with what exactly?”

  “You know why I am here, human.”

  Grimm has a one-track mind. Palming the edge of the counter behind me, I swallow my growing panic. “No, you promised. One week of dates. Remember?”

  My heart thrums as he continues staring blankly at me. He can’t back out of our deal. Please, please don’t back out.

  The bell jingles above my door as another man steps in. He’s barely across the threshold when the door suddenly slams closed. The lock turns on its own, and the shade falls to cover the window at the top. The neon open sign fizzles with a pop and then goes dark.

  Taken aback, I spread my hands in surprise. “What the—”

  He crosses his arms with an unreadable expression, but then his eyes narrow as if he’s contemplating something unpleasant.

  “I will experience this movie that you suggested, but don’t get your hopes up. I will still be reaping you at the end of this.”

  Letting out a breath, I close my eyes briefly and pull myself together. Okay, good. Not going to die today.

  “Does this mean you’re going to comply with our deal? If I win, you’ll leave me alone?”

  His eyelids twitch as if trying to blink. Not a no, but not a yes. He wouldn’t be here if he weren’t though, right? He’d just unalive me and be done with it.

  Swallowing hard, I can’t deny the flutter of excitement that he came back. Maybe he put a compulsion over me or something to make me accept his presence more easily.

  Or, maybe not. Maybe there’s something more than that brewing between us.

  The thought gets pushed aside as I remember It’s a Wonderful Life is playing at the old cinema on Main Street. He should love it considering it’s about a man having a mental breakdown and contemplating suicide.

  My mouth and throat are suddenly dry as I reach behind the counter for my coat and slip into it. He watches me with blatant curiosity, as if he’s fascinated by something as simple as getting dressed.

  My body heats from the intensity of his gaze. Fumbling with the buttons, I finally manage to get my hat on and coat fastened, cram earmuffs on my head, and move to meet him at the door. Why does he make me feel so flustered as if this is a real first date? The kind with an actual human?

  It doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes to get through this with my life.

  “Okay,” I chirp, plastering on a smile. “Here we come, date number one!”

  4

  Grimm

  “Where are you taking me again?” I ask, already forgetting the plan. Morgan pulls me through a series of interlocking alleys and roads. We pass many humans and even more children bundled up together as they hop around and scream with ear-piercing glee.

  I flinch at the noise. The human realm is much too loud. I prefer the silence of the afterworld, where even the tortured souls sent to burn for their misdeeds are muted.

  “To the theater, remember? We’re going to go see a movie.”

  Another child brushes past us and slams into my side. Patience… it is not required for a Reaper. But by all things otherworldly, I wished it were because at least then I would have enough of it to see this ridiculous ‘deal’ through to its end.

  Morgan thinks I have no honor. I have honor. I have plenty of honor. I see the souls of the dead to the afterworld. What more honor is there than that?

  I huff. “Right, the theater.”

  “We’re her—” She suddenly stops and turns around. Bright brown eyes pierce my soul, and I take a step back. She looks so… cute with those little puffs of fluff on her ears and that little ball dangling from the hat on her head.

  “I just realized something,” she says.

  So did I, apparently.

  “Go on.” I motion for her to continue.

  She bites her bottom lip, drawing my gaze to it. “Well… you see… I had originally planned to attend the evening show, so I didn’t think to check the other times.” She points up at a sign plastered on a clear window. “It says the show doesn’t start for another hour.”

  I try ever so hard to hide my delight. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, as the humans say.

  “Then we will do something else then.” A thought crosses my mind. I am scheduled to reap Mr. Bobton Miller soon. As soon as I am about to make the suggestion, my mouth clamps shut as if it has a mind of its own and is warning me against saying something foolish. Fine. I do not believe Morgan will allow reaping her townsfolk as our first date anyway.

  I cross my arms and wait for her to make another suggestion. If it is not another one of these films humans are obsessed over, then I will be glad because sitting in a dark, cramped room filled with humans is not how I prefer to spend my days.

  “You know what? You’re right,” she says.

  “I am?” I cock my head in confusion. I was unaware that humans were capable of hearing thoughts. It isn’t supposed to be possible, at least not in this realm. Then again, her body is way past its expiration. This serves as a reminder as to why humans must be reaped on time, but I just hope that it is the only reminder I am given, seeing as though I still have many days to deal with this pesky human.

  She flashes a warm smile that could easily melt snow, but there’s a devious glint in her eyes, and now I can’t help but wonder if she is suggesting that we reap Mr. Bobton Miller together as some sort of way to scheme more time in the mortal world, or if she is confirming that reaping townsfolk is off the table.

  My head begins to throb. I am not used to this human body or the aches that come with it, as I spend so little time in this flesh.

  “I may not agree with some of the things you have to say, Grimm, but I do agree with you about doing something else in the meantime. At least until the movie starts.” And then she lowers her voice to that of a whisper and leans toward me as if she’s about to tell me a secret. “How about we run to the store and get some candy to sneak into the theater?”

  My eyes widen. Not more of that sugary crap that rots teeth and sticks to everything. I dare not tell her how much I loathe the stuff for fear that she will somehow use it against me. There are still remnants of her sugary breakfast on my clothing. I do not need more.

  “So what do you think?” she asks.

  “About what?” Is it so much to ask the rulers of the afterworld to dull her memory just this once?

  “About getting some candy. I know a really great shop that has delicious treats.” She’s still whispering. Obviously sneaking treats inside is not allowed.

  I sigh. Of course, she does. I bet this human has mapped out every treat shop in existence.

  “Come on, it’s this way.” She reaches for my arm and pulls me in the opposite direction of the way we came.

  A short while later, we are standing in the middle of the aisle of some shop she claimed was imperative that we visit.

  “Can you hold these for a minute?”

  Begrudgingly, I hold out my hands to take two bags of candy from her. How one human could eat all this garbage is beyond me, but apparently such treats are necessary for films. I do not argue. Especially after she dragged me to not one, but two shops. I fear if I make a comment she will drag me to yet another.

  “Isn’t the movie about to start?” I ask, setting the bags on the floor because I do not wish to hold them any longer.

  “We still have fifteen minutes.”

  I sigh.

  All of a sudden, her face is mere inches from mine. She’s so close I can smell her sweet scent. Sweet. Tart. Delicious and—

  I narrow my gaze. Is that her breath that I am smelling? All those sweets that she consumed not that long ago?

  Before I can do anything, she reaches up and pulls my hood off. Tiny fingers thread through my hair, matting it down. And then something is placed upon my head.

  I try to remove it, but she stops me. “What is this?”

 

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