Grayson kissed my chin, his top lip barely grazing my bottom one, before pulling back to thumb my lips. “These are mine.”

He leaned in like he was going to kiss me, but I turned my head at the last second.

Pale plum.

It paired so well with her skin, and the matte made her lips look plumper.

“Kiss me,” Grayson growled.

“You said no kissing,” I breathed.

He gripped my shoulders, dragging me closer, fingers bruising. He was hard and throbbing against my hips, and every time I breathed, I breathed in Grayson. I could all but feel his heart pounding.

“Fuck what I said, give me your mouth.” His teeth scraped against my chin, dragging along my neck, before following the same path with his lips.

“The contract—”

“Is that really all this is to you?” He dropped me and slammed his hands beside me in one motion. “A contract?” His blue gaze flitted left and right, searching mine.

No, I need you.

No, I love you.

My eyes landed on his collar, where the purple truth lay smudged on his white shirt. Marked, because Lottie could mark him. She could kiss him. She had the right. Me?

This dark closet was suddenly too fucking dark.

This was my right.

Darkness.

He’ll marry her, leave me behind. If I’m lucky, I get holidays.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Coldness swept his face and sucked away my breath like a winter wind. He stepped away, eyeing me with that Grayson Crowne apathy and disgust.

“Don’t leave this room, Snitch.”

He opened the door, slammed it, and left me in the dark.

I was alone for maybe ten minutes before I heard them. I had only fifteen seconds’ warning. Her soft giggles. His dark, cocky laughter. There was nowhere to run, so I had to hide, but a linen closet didn’t afford many places. I looked left and right, and dove behind a stack of unopened boxes as the door opened, two bodies falling through it.

“Grayson, stop, people could walk in,” Charlotte laughed. Light flooded the room, then snuffed out, slammed shut.

“Can’t wait to feel your pussy,” Grayson said, pushing her past the boxes, to me. Her back hit the wall beside me, and I crawled to hide, to not be seen. I shrank between two piles of linen, drawing one over my body, hoping to disappear.

Lottie laughed. “You’re dirty.”

I could see them through my flimsy sheet. They were fuzzy through cotton, but I saw him kiss her and saw her kiss him back. I couldn’t help but think of the one year I went trick-or-treating and my mom had just grabbed a sheet and cut holes in it.

I’d wanted to be some princess or something.

She’d made me a ghost. It was easier.

“This dress is too fucking big,” Grayson said.

Lottie turned around, bending over and hiking up her dress to give him easier access.