I was taught at a young age to never be too eager. If I asked a question, it could never belie my ignorance. But Grim knew everything about me. He knew my deepest, darkest secrets, and I know nothing about his world beyond rumor. This was the most I’d learned about Grim’s world in the years I’d known him. So I did the unthinkable—I let myself be curious.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “Claimed?”
Prince HSOG’s blue eyes glimmered, as if he could see the war between propriety and curiosity raging in my head.
“A claim is the only thing respected more than a debt. That’s why they mark the claimed with a tattoo. So everyone knows.”
Unmarked. Unclaimed.
The words he’d spoken when we first met suddenly took on a new meaning.
“Until she has a tattoo, she’s up for grabs. Once she’s marked, even the wrong look can be considered a declaration of war, but—”He leaned in like he was about to let me in on some big conspiracy. “—it goes both ways. The Reaper's girl—or anyone who is publicly claimed—has a target on her head. They’ll want to hurt her, just to hurt him.”
“What people?”
He shrugged. “Rival factions. Petty criminals trying to climb the ladder. You name it, anyone trying to grasp a semblance of power.”
My eyes narrowed. “Whoareyou?”
He smiled in response, teeth white and sharp. “So, you never did answer me. What are you doing talking to a guy like me?”
With that, he closed the line of questioning. Things like the Underworld didn’t exist anymore, our world wastea. It was like the sound turned back on. Soft, plastic laughter, the clinking of tea glasses, a sharp gasp as someone listened to juicy gossip.
What am I doing talking to him? Well, I’d wanted to know about his connection to Grim. But outside of that…
“I guess I’m here for you.” He arched a brow, and I explained. “My mother told me to seduce you in order to stop bringing shame to our family.”
He laughed.
“So then if I did this, your mother would approve?” He snaked his hand around my hip, grasping so tight I nearly gasped.
“Very much so.”
He stepped closer until I could taste spicy cigar smoke on his breath. “And if I kissed you?”
“She would be ecstatic.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He leaned forward and I sucked in a breath. This was sonotproper. Maybe he would kiss me. Maybe I would let him. Get my mom off my back and piss off Grim.
Two birds and all that.
Then, all at once, he stepped back. I followed his stare and found his guards at the door, gesturing for him.
“Until next time, Gemma.”
I watched him leave. That tiny bit of excitement—ofrelief—from this world drained out of me. I felt wooden. Stuck.
My mother was still by the window, showing a new batch of victims her famous garden. I took the opportunity to slink out unnoticed.
Reaper’s girl.
If I became the Reaper’s girl, I’d have more targets on my head than I could count. If I became the Reaper’s girl…my life wouldn’t belong to me. My life would be entangled with his.
I don’t know why the idea sent hot, tingling shivers down my spine.
I could never be claimed. I couldn’t be Gemma Crowneandthe Reaper’s girl.
When I got to my wing, my friends were already there. Blaire lay on my ivory couch, scrolling on her phone with one heel still on her foot, the other dropped unceremoniously to the floor.
