Page 5 of The Devil’s Feather

“You need some sweetness in your life.” She gave me a meaningful look, perfect brows raised, and skipped off.

Impossible not to like her. I reached for my coffee pot.

Rafael swatted my hand away. “This was my idea. Let me serve you.” Despite their size, his hands were elegant and long-fingered. A musician’s hands. With a musician’s sensitive fingers. Whew, down girl. He poured from the copper pot into my tiny porcelain cup with nimble precision.

“Do you do this for all the ladies? It’s very charming.” The coffee was everything I wanted it to be—smooth, bold, and full-bodied, with just enough sweetness to soften the bitter edge on my tongue.

“Hardly.” Rafael cast another glare at the kitchen. “Zainab is extra obnoxious today because I never bring anyone here. I hope now she will stop trying to introduce me to her insufferable friends and relatives. At this rate, she will have wedding invitations made up by the time we leave.” He cleared his throat and looked away, sweeping a hand backward over his hair.

I tried to spare him. “Well, I’ve always wanted to see the inside of this building, so I’m extra grateful for the coffee, and I don’t mind being a shield against insufferable friends and relatives. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I do not doubt that.” Rafael sipped his coffee. The small cup was like a doll’s toy in his huge hand. “I would invite you up to my apartment for a tour, but that implies expectations I do not harbor.” He winced. “I am making it worse.”

I laughed and speared a chunk of the cake. “You totally are. It’s kind of adorable though.”

“This is why I speak to no one.”

I smiled over my tiny coffee cup. “I’m glad you spoke to me. You have a beautiful voice, and it made my whole year! I promise I won’t fangirl too hard.”

Rafael expelled a breath through his long nose at ‘fangirl’. I picked it up the confection on my saucer, eyeing it.

“Lokum,” he said. “You probably know it as Turkish Delight.”

I put it down with exaggerated care. “Well, now I’m scared to eat it. What if you’re secretly the White Witch and I’m about to sell out my family?”

“I would rather be Aslan.” Rafael covered his cup with the saucer, swirled the coffee grounds, and flipped them over.

That he knew the book so well thrilled my fantasy-loving soul. “Oh, you’re the Jesus lion? But that would mean cutting your mane off.”

That spark of mischief was back in his eyes. “Maybe I like the idea of being tied to a stone slab and sacrificed.”

I choked on my own spit, coughing into my napkin. “Sir!”

Rafael chuckled low in his throat and had mercy on me. “You know Aslan is just the Turkish word for lion, yes?”

“It is not!” I looked it up on my phone. It was. “How have I gone my whole life not knowing this?”

The chuckle became a laugh. “They make this rose-flavored lokum here. Try it.”

Cautiously, I nibbled at a corner of the confection. Soft and chewy, the floral sweetness came as a delightful surprise. “Oh, this is so much better. Ok, Edmund may have had a point. The only other time I’ve ever had it, it was dry and kinda hard.” I shoved the rest into my mouth. “You said this one was rose? Do you have a favorite flavor?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I do not like lokum, but watching you have your Narnia moment was entertaining.”

My turn to laugh. “You big jerk!”

“I keep warning you. Do you write full-time, nerd girl?”

Ah, the joys of publishing. “You mean, are my books selling well? No, I’m a small fry. Self-published. It’s just a hobby, though I have high hopes. Applecore was nice enough to stock my debut when I begged. I’m a dull techie by day, just like everyone else in the Bay Area.”

The coffee disappeared all too quickly. I left a good dent in the cake as well. If a world-famous composer hadn’t been sitting across from me, I might have shoved the whole thing in my gullet since I’d skipped lunch—tummy upset be damned. I smuggled out a Lactaid and dry-swallowed it when he wasn’t looking.

“Was I supposed to turn my cup over too?” I pointed to his. “I just did it because you did.”

“Kahve falı. Reading the coffee grounds.” Rafael took my cup. “Better not to read your own.” He turned the cup upright, and I leaned in, fascinated. He tilted it so I could see. “The small, scattered grounds on the saucer mean unexpected money. This shape in the cup means change. Hmm…”

“What?” I leaned closer.

“This one means you will meet a charming stranger.” A grin tugged at his mouth.