ESTELLE

I pressed the cold glass to my lips and cursed under my breath.

Grim was a prick and I really didn't want to follow him around like some ass-kissing intern . . . I needed to salvage what little self-respect I had left if he was going to step all over me and drag me through the wringer. Damn, everyone was going to start talking about this. And my reaping fieldwork was going to become even more of a nightmare.

Yeah, I would have had better luck if he just sent me back to Hell.

I chugged the last of my white linen and slammed it on the bar. I propped my elbow and smashed my hand against my face, slouching over as I eyed Jeremy, the bartender, at hotel Kain. The shabby place I lived, but hey, working as a reaper wasn't great pay. Upper management saw it as if they were doing us tainted souls the favor.

Jeremy was effortlessly flirting with the customers across from me and flashed the two older women a sinfully delicious smile. Fuck. I wanted to take him home.

His short, dark brown wolf-cut hair and tattooed head-to-toe—sleeves rolled up just enough it exposed his toned forearms that flexed every time he made a drink made me drool.

Honestly, if he was flexing on purpose . . . I didn't care. I reveled in it.

I flagged him down. “One more please.”

His eyes sparkled back at mine as he sauntered to my side. “Rough day at work?” Jeremy gave me a flirty eyebrow wiggle.

He had a dish towel in one hand as he tilted his head and leaned over the bar top; his pecs bugling in my face, but like I said before, I didn't mind the view even if it was for show.

“That would be an understatement.” I peeled my hand from my cheek and straightened my spine.

Jeremy muddled the mint and I stole a few more glances in his direction.

What fucking sucked besides the fieldwork—I was a mirage to the living. I bet Jeremy saw me as some beautiful bombshell in a tight mini skirt, and red lipstick with perky breasts or some old creepy widow whose husband died and she was trying to fill the void with young, beautiful men. No in between.

Maybe he was into that?

People only saw what they wanted to see. A reason why reapers stuck close with each other and avoided the living. We occupied entirely different worlds and good luck forming a connection to someone still tethered. It was nearly impossible unless they were a part of the supernatural world. If he was a vampire, ghoul, or gargoyle? He'd see the real me. But they avoided us since we could reap their souls whenever and send them to purgatory. So I only ran into a handful.

And there’s nothing worse than getting intimate with someone and him saying how much he loved my long blonde hair when in fact, I was a brunette. That shit was a huge turn off.

I pinched my side and tried not to think about my early years as a reaper, and how orientation glossed over the fact people didn't see you as well . . . you.

Trying to gauge if someone was interested in me was incredibly difficult. I had needs but I also hated how much of a cesspool work was. Everyone was banging each other, and I didn't want the drama that came with that.

Yeah, I should go up to my room and actually do what I planned. Buy the curry and watch my k drama. I didn't need to prowl because of a shitty day at work but . . . getting lost in Jeremy’s dreamy biceps didn't sound all too bad.

“Here.” Jeremy winked and slid the glass in front of me. “On the house.”

He was definitely a little too into himself but, hey. I wasn't trying to wine and dine him and meet his parents. So, fuck it.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“So . . .” I traced my index finger on the rim of the glass. “Do you have plans after your shift?” I tried to sound low and seductive but that wasn't me. It came out squeaky with a slight tremble.

A deep chuckle tantalized my ears and I lifted my chin to meet his smug grin. “I get off in fifteen. Do you mind waiting?”

“No,” I shot back and mentally cringed at the noticeable excitement in my voice.