Page 13 of Death is My Ride or Die

“Deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay.”

“If you feed me one more clichéd motivational line, I’m going to rip out the nearest person’s teeth and fasten them around your neck like a choker.”

“Chill. It’s not like you can discipline any of your reapers in your current situation.”

“Chill?You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“I think this is hilarious. The Grim Reaper is having a panic attack in another person’s body. You should try diaphragmatic breathing.” I inhaled a much-needed breath from my own belly and sighed dramatically. Death’s cold stare flicked down to the thin strips of fabric over my breasts as I did so and lingered for several beats. When our eyes met again, his were an intoxicating blend of brooding, sinister, and carnal. His tongue tucked inside of his cheek, as if he were barely restraining himself.

I smiled sugar-sweet. “Chill.”

He lunged at me.

“Welcome to the D&S Tower,” proclaimed a voice behind us. Death slammed his ass back into his seat and composed himself as civilly as a rabid animal. The waiter’s eyes were a disturbing shade of red, and I dropped my attention quickly to his sharp nose. “Can I offer you two something to drink? Have you looked at our Halloween-themed drink menu?”

I didn’t drink alcohol, plus I was eighteen, but I wasn’t about to blow our cover. “Oh—um, hold on.” I reached for the fancy menu by my plate and read.

To Die For Drink Menu

The Black Cauldron

Poisoned Passion Fruit Kiss (Vegan-friendly)

Gin & Terror

RIP Lemonade (Vegan-friendly)

The Grave

Witch’s Brew (Eye garnish optional)

Bloody Mary

Zombie’s Goblet (Contains meat)

The waiter cleared his throat.

“Riiight,” I said, skeptical about ordering any of these. “The Grave sounds promising.”

“I bet it does,” Death muttered as he inspected his own drink menu. “You’ve already got one foot in it.”

The waiter switched his attention to Death. “And for you, sir?”

Right before my eyes, the waiter’s face shimmered away. His skin paled until it became nearly translucent. Two sharp canines poked out from his lips.Vampire. No flipping way. Chairs shifted around us, drawing my attention to the rest of our table as other guests were seated. The assembly of people—if I could even call them people—consisted of frighteningly ugly creatures in fancy clothes. They talked amongst themselves in various foreign tongues. I gaped at them, feeling like a lone rabbit trapped in a forest overpopulated by wolves.

Death was speaking in a rich foreign language to the waiter. He indicated certain items on the menu and made a cutting gesture with his hand.What the hell is he saying?

“Pardon me,” one of the guests at our table said with a croaky voice. The creature spun its head one hundred eighty degrees, like an owl, to face a different waiter walking past our table. My stomach churned at the visual. “When you get the chance, kindly fetch me another Witch’s Brew. Two eyeballs, this time. I do enjoy those cute garnishes.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the waiter replied. She disappeared and reappeared at another table with a tray of appetizers in an instant.

“First time at a D&S Tower ball, eh?” asked a hoarse, accented voice to my left. “Oh, how I love watching the brainwashed mortals mingle with us every Halloween. You look a little pale, dove. Are you not from the Netherworld?”

I gaped at thethingin the chair beside me. Its gray, hairless, dog-like face contorted as it sipped noisily from a massive goblet, although it wasn’t slurping with its mouth but instead through its straw-like fingers, which were dipped into the thick, crimson liquid of the drink. Blood. As it continued to devour its beverage, the beast offered me a thin smile, and I glimpsed its huge incisors.

“Well?” the stranger prompted. “Do you not understand the mortals’ English?”

“I don’t live in the Netherworld,” I squeaked. “I live . . . further north. I think.”

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