“Your mortal eyes are failing you.”
“Rude.”
He laughed softly, and I leaned into him, letting my head rest against his shoulder. The night was cool but not cold, and his body was solid and familiar beside me. This was what I needed. Not demon hunting or prophecies or trying to figure out why eight demons had attacked my birthday party. Just this. Just us.
“Do you ever think about what it’ll be like?” I asked quietly. “Years from now, I mean. When I’m older, and you’re...not.”
His arm came around me, pulling me closer. “Sometimes.”
“Does it scare you?”
“Yes.” The word was simple. Honest. “But not enough to make me walk away.”
“Even though I’ll get old? Gray hair, wrinkles, the whole thing?”
“Even then.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You’ll always be beautiful to me, Allie. At seventeen or sixty or a hundred and six.”
“I probably won’t make it to ninety-six, much less a hundred and six. Most humans don’t. And demon hunting isn’t exactly a longevity-friendly profession.”
“Then I’ll enjoy every moment I have with you.” His voice was steady, but I could hear the edge beneath it—the fear he usually kept buried. Because let’s face it, my job was definitely a hardhat kind of gig. Only I was never issued a hardhat.
I tilted my head up to look at him, this immortal being who looked as fragile as the rest of us.
Human. He looked it because that’s what he used to be, and it was sometimes easy to forget that he’d shed his human cloak a long, long time ago.
“I love you,” I said. “You know that, right? That it’s true, and not just pretty words?”
“I know.” He kissed me then, soft and slow, and I let myself sink into it. Let myself forget, just for a moment, about everything waiting for us back at the school.
When we finally pulled apart, the stars had fully emerged, scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet. I curled against his side, his arm still around me, and we sat there in the quiet cemetery, watching the universe turn overhead.
“So about that movie,” I said eventually. “The one with...atmosphere.”
I felt him smile against my hair. “Still interested?”
“Maybe.” I traced a pattern on his chest, feeling his stillness beneath my fingers. No heartbeat. No breath. Just Jared, steady and eternal. “We should probably head back before they send a search party.”
“Probably.” He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
The movie could wait. Everything could wait. Right now, I just wanted to stay there, suspended between the earth and the stars, pretending that the world wasn’t about to fall apart around us.
It wouldn’t last. Nothing ever did.
But for now—for this one quiet moment—it was enough.
He squeezed my hand, and we started walking back toward the mansion.
We’d made it maybe halfway up the path when I spotted him—a figure sitting on one of the old stone benches near the cemetery gate, head tilted back, looking up at the sky.
Zane.
“Hey,” I called out as we approached. “Eliza said you were down here.”
He turned, and for just a second—so fast I almost missed it—something like irritation flickered across his face. Then the easy smile slid into place, and he waved us over.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Figured I’d get some air.”
