Page 40 of Auctioned to the Reaper

Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing one of Grayson’s enormous black sweatshirts and a pair of borrowed socks. The mansion is warm despite the outage. A massive fire burns in the drawing room, and candles flicker along the mantel.

My clothes are drying beside the fire.

He emerges from the kitchen carrying two plates of pasta.

I stare.

“You cook?”

“Occasionally.”

“Actual food?”

“Usually.”

“Without summoning a demon?”

“Only on special occasions.”

I take a bite.

It’s delicious.

“Well?”

I chew thoughtfully.

“Needs salt.”

He gives me a flat look.

I grin.

“Relax. It’s amazing.”

“Pain in my ass.”

“You missed me.”

He doesn’t answer.

But his eyes linger on my face.

And suddenly, I’m not smiling anymore.

We eat beside the fireplace while rain pounds against the windows.

After dinner, Grayson disappears into the kitchen and returns with two mugs of hot chocolate.

I stare at mine.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“With marshmallows?”

“Autumn.”