The entrance was set back behind a concave red brick wall, beside a narrow passage. A vaguely luminous, humanoid spirit stood before the wall, its features indistinct. The wall was covered in flamboyant graffiti, and Jasmine just managed to decipher the Common Tongue phrase: “Experience the icy chill of death!” Below it, in a scrawled, obviously later addition, were the words: “We sell desserts.”

The snow was falling heavily, so Jasmine thought they might as well take a look inside. As she considered this, the spirit moved. It bowed to them, then took a step into the passage, looking back as if inviting them to follow.

The passage was just wide enough for one person. Linsey went first, reaching back to hold Jasmine’s hand.

The enclosed space, dimly lit by wall sconces, with a spectral figure leading the way, suddenly felt a little unnerving. Jasmine blinked, a flicker of fear touching her.

Linsey turned, his voice a low murmur against her ear. “I smell alcohol, cheese, and fruit. The food here must be good.”

He was so close, his warm breath brushing against her sensitive black cat ears, almost a kiss. Jasmine looked up, meeting Linsey’s gaze. His golden eyes, with their feline pupils, held a dangerous allure. Following her impulse, she kissed him quickly, then pushed him away with a touch of awkwardness. "Alright, alright. You're too close. Move."

“Okay.” Linsey obediently turned, then, still holding her hand, scratched her palm with his fingers, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

The spirit led them to a booth and vanished. A menu lay on the table. Jasmine glanced at it. The desserts and drinks were listed with their main ingredients, all names she’d never heard before.

Linsey, sitting beside her, leaned languidly against her shoulder, his posture loose and relaxed. He glanced at the menu. “These are all ingredients from the Netherworld. This place uses authentic stuff.”

“Netherworld?” Jasmine had never known that the undead had their own realm.

“Yeah. If you’re interested, we could go there sometime. It’s quite different from the human world. The creatures there are fragile, but they taste pretty good.” Linsey’s gaze drifted from the menu to Jasmine’s smooth, white neck, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Up close, he noticed the delicate lace trim on her choker. It was a bit tight, the edges pressing into her skin, leaving a faint pink mark. It was like a collar, accentuating the pale vulnerability of her skin, the delicate blue tracery of veins visible beneath the surface. Linsey inhaled, savoring the sweet, fresh scent of her, his mouth watering involuntarily.

“But the undead seem so… creepy…” Jasmine said, looking around the shop, oblivious to his scrutiny.

The space wasn't large. In the dim, hazy light, members of various otherworldly races sat chatting quietly. Blue-glowing spirits drifted among the patrons. In the center was a stage, where three animated skeletons and their instruments stood poised, though not yet playing. Occasionally, a sharp laugh or the sound of something crunching echoed through the room.

Jasmine decided she preferred things that were alive and warm.

The skeletons on stage began to play—a saxophone, then the other two undead musicians joined in. It was strange to see mere skeletons playing instruments, the source of their breath a mystery. Jasmine, a mixture of fear and fascination keeping her still, resisted the urge for her fur to stand on end as she watched.

The food, when it arrived, was indeed delicious. One dish, a fruit smoothie, was served in a small metal pot. The ghostly waiter lit a blue flame beneath it, and white mist began to curl from the surface, frosting the fruit.

The red brick walls were punctuated by semicircular niches holding glowing, heat-emitting fire mushrooms, keeping the room warm. As mellow jazz filled the air, Jasmine drank her smoothie slowly, while Linsey devoured his quickly, then ordered more.

The music stopped as the undead band took a break. Linsey leaned against Jasmine, his weight gradually shifting onto her. She retreated until her back was against the wall. “Don’t lean on me…” she mumbled.

“I’m drunk. My head is spinning.” A dragon’s constitution wasn’t so easily affected by alcohol. Lindsay, having found his excuse, settled against her, refusing to move. He placed his tail in her hands. “Pet me.”

His tail, covered in smooth reptilian scales, radiated the intense heat unique to red dragons, its iridescent colors shifting as it curled. Jasmine held the very tip, her thumb rubbing the neatly arranged scales. The supple appendage twitched in her grasp, the scales tickling her palm.

Her touch, light as a feather, made Lindsay close his eyes in contentment. He rested his head against her neck, inhaling her scent, almost purring like a cat.

“Linsey.”

“Hmm?” He looked up.

Jasmine closed her eyes and kissed him, a sweet taste lingering on her lips.

“So sweet. I love it.”