Page 36 of Grimoire Omens

I bit my tongue lest I mention plastic surgery. Why should he have to change himself? He shouldn’t, and I should stop trying to convince him Earth would be a good place for him to retire. He likely had friends back home. He felt comfortable there. Had a job. A place of his own. What did Earth have?

Me.

But I wasn’t so vain as to think one kiss—or even the epic sex we’d surely have—would be enough to keep him. The man hunted demons and misbehaving princes for a living. The best he could expect here? A job in construction. Delivery if he learned to drive. The military and cops wouldn’t take him without a birth certificate and other identification. Although I did wonder how hard it was to become an assassin or merc for hire. He’d make an awesome John Wick type.

“We’re approaching the sixth level,” he announced in a low tone.

Looked like our chat was over. Back to business.

He hauled open the door, and I knew by the sudden shimmer that encased him that the hall must be occupied. He didn’t duck back into the stairwell but rather exited and the door almost slammed shut before I grabbed the edge and followed. Ulseere had once more adopted his businessman persona, but this time, I could see through it, as if the image he projected were a transparent gauze. Had his ability weakened, or had I developed a way of seeing past it?

Likely the latter given the way the two hussies in short and tight dresses tossed him coy smiles as they strutted past for the elevator.

Ulseere kept his pace slow as he headed for room 302, likely to ensure the women didn’t change their mind and exit the elevator. The moment it descended, he positioned himself in front of the target room and cocked his head as if listening.

“There’s no one inside.” Even as he spoke, he placed his hand on the door. This time I saw the faint glow before the lock clicked. He had it looking so easy. If he stayed, he could probably make a killing as a thief, if his honor would let him stoop so low, which I doubted.

We eased inside the room, and it immediately reminded me of my own. Clothing, shoes, makeup, and more had been tossed around everywhere as if someone set off a bomb inside a suitcase.

Judging by Ulseere’s expression, he disapproved of the mess. “We shouldn’t dawdle, seeing as how Cedric couldn’t ascertain how long the occupant would be gone. Grab what you need and quickly.”

I had no idea where to start, but Ulseere obviously did since his hand dipped into a mound of fabric on the dresser and emerged dangling a scrap of black lace. “I found you some underpants.”

“Ew, I’m not wearing someone’s used skivvies.” I made a face.

“You had no such objection with Florence’s garments.”

“Because Flo seems to think pussy cooties come out in the wash.” I remained on the fence about that.

“Does the tag on it not indicate newness?” he flicked the hanging little paper square with a price tag of fourteen ninety-five—for panties the size of an eyepatch.

Fancy.

I snatched them from his hand and hip-checked him aside.

“Let me see if there’s a matching bra in my size.” Oh hell yeah, there was. The bra might be a bit snug in the cup, but I’d wear it, if only because I knew now Ulseere might be removing it.

The rest of the clothes proved a little more difficult to choose from. I held up dress after dress, baby doll, negligee, body suit, and grimaced.

“Everything is so form-fitting.”

“What is the issue?”

“I’m on the run from demons, not looking to turn tricks.”

He frowned.

I sighed. “I don’t usually wear such revealing clothes.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not comfortable in them.”

He eyed the undergarments I held and arched a brow.

I shook them. “These I don’t mind because they go under clothes. Only me and whomever I choose gets to see them. But this…” I held up a dress that would barely cover my ass cheeks and might bust a stitch if I had to breathe. “I might as well be naked.”

For some reason, that made him grin. “I don’t have an issue with that.”