Page 7 of Auctioned to the Reaper

Before the accident.

Before the boy I loved disappeared into a hospital in Boulder and never came home.

My hand flies to my mouth.

He looks older. Harder. There’s anger etched into his face that wasn’t there before, and something terribly tired behind his dark eyes.

But it’s him.

It’s really him.

His gaze moves over my face, and for one brief second, the intimidating stranger disappears.

I see the boy who used to sneak through my bedroom window.

The boy who taught me to ride on the back of his motorcycle.

The boy who kissed me goodbye one October night and promised he’d see me tomorrow.

His mouth curves into the smallest, saddest smile.

“Hello, Pumpkin.”

My knees nearly buckle.

“Grayson?”

Chapter 2

GRIM

“Grayson?”

Fuck.

Ten years. I’ve spent ten goddamn years imagining what it would feel like to hear my name on her lips again, and somehow it’s worse than I expected.

Autumn Hayes stands in front of me, looking like every filthy fantasy I’ve ever had wrapped in black velvet and fishnet stockings. Her witch’s hat sits crooked on her head, her cheeks are flushed, and those big brown eyes are staring at me like she’s seen a ghost.

Guess she has.

“Hey, Pumpkin.”

Her expression changes. Shock gives way to disbelief, then something considerably more dangerous.

Crack.

Her palm connects with my cheek hard enough to turn my head.

The ballroom goes quiet.

I rub my jaw. “Yeah. Figured I had that coming.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Also fair.”

“You absolute, unbelievable, arrogant asshole!”