Page 49 of Auctioned to the Reaper

“Cold.”

“It’s about eighty degrees in here.”

“Then I’m fucking hot. Pick one.”

I stand too quickly.

Pain shoots through my left hip, and the room tilts. I catch the bedpost before my knee gives out.

“Shit.”

Autumn doesn’t rush toward me. Doesn’t gasp or look at me like I’m about to break.

She just sits back on her heels.

“There’s water on the nightstand.”

“Don’t need it.”

“Okay.”

I wait for her to argue.

She doesn’t.

Somehow that’s worse.

I grab the water and take a long drink.

“Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

I set the glass down.

“Go to sleep, Pumpkin.”

“Not until we talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Really? Because you just tried to fight a bedpost and yelled your dead brother’s name.”

My jaw locks.

“Drop it.”

“No.”

I turn toward her.

She’s still sitting in the middle of my bed, small and stubborn, looking entirely too comfortable for a woman who just witnessed the most humiliating moment of my life.

“Autumn.”

“Grayson.”

“I’m not in the mood.”