Page 129 of Unwrapping Deviance

“I already died. The night Jameson and his brothers jumped us, and Wyatt died, so did I.”

Mira’s eyes widen. Her soft lips part in a horrifiedOshe covers with her fingers.

“By the time Daniel got us to the hospital in Mayfield,” I rub my thumb into the velvet curve of her cheek, “I had severe internal bleeding, several broken bones and a fractured skull. Idied on the table. Five minutes. My heart stopped. They called it and everything.” I give her what I hope is a cocky grin when she chokes on a shaky inhale and covers her mouth. “So, I already did the whole death thing. Didn’t stick.”

The wrenching pain in her beautiful expression twists into one of rage. “Why would you say that? You’ll jinx—”

“Nope. I’m supposed to live well into my nineties with a whole brood of grand and great grandchildren.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Had a witch in Morocco read my palm a few years back. Said I would travel, see the world, meet a tiny brat with blue eyes and live to the ripe old age of ninety.”

“Liar.” But her eyes are bright with amusement.

“Oh, she definitely said brat. I remember that very clearly.”

Mira chuckles. “I meant, witches aren’t real.”

I gasp in feigned outrage. “Sarah was very real. She did a whole ceremony to realign my fortune.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And how much did you pay her for all her hard work?”

“You believe that you’re cursed and have the power to kill people with your mind, but witches are where you draw the line?”

My brat rolls her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t believe in witches, exactly, but—”

“No buts. She told me I had a long life, and I believe her.” I kiss my brat until a shiver courses through her. I drag the sheets up and around us both, not ready to let her go. “You won’t kill me.”

Her smile slips and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What if—?”

I kiss her to silence her.

“Ninety. That’s how long you’re stuck with me, Mira.”

Cool fingers frame my face while she searches my eyes. “Promise?” she bites her lip again like she’s fighting with everything in her. “I’ll never forgive you if you leave me.”

I don’t know if she means die on her or ever, but I’m good with both.

“I promise, sweetheart. I’ll write it in blood. I’ll pinkie promise. Hell, I’ll even spit in your hand.”

Her snorting giggle makes me chuckle. “I think you’re supposed to spit in your own hand.”

I scrunch my face in disgust. “That’s gross. Why would I do that?”

Still chuckling, Mira shakes her head. “Why are you like this?”

“Fuck if I know, but I’m your problem now.”

Her eyes narrow. “Like a faulty car?”

“Exactly like a faulty car with a no return policy.”

Her fingers comb through my hair, untangling the knots she created fucking my face, but her expression is pensive.

“Ninety,” she whispers, searching my eyes. “Not a day less.”

Fuck, what are we doing? Am I seriously promising her forever? I haven’t had a serious relationship that lasted more than six months. No woman wants to put up with my job and I never met a woman I cared enough about to change that for, but Mira...

I peer down into her determined little face kissed by the pale gold of the sun rising outside the window. It terrifies me and doesn’t surprise me at all that I like watching the day start with her in my bed — technically, her bed at this moment — but with her in bed. Any bed. I don’t care whose.

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