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It took an embarrassingly short time to reach my peak. I slumped to the ground, my legs trembling. Breath coming in short gasps. The tile squares gave me something geometric and safe to stare at while I came back to my sanity. All the lines went in their expected directions. Correct and unwavering.
Unlike me.
Something tapped my balcony door.
I glared, all while butterflies battered my insides. There’s only one person who’d be on my damn balcony.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Not exactly Razai’s usual. Cautiously, I pulled the curtain apart and set my eyes on the culprit. A Chinese takeout bag hung from an unused flowerpot hook. Every so often the wind pushed it into the window.
Tap. Tap.
I rescued the bag. Warmth sank into my fingers. I moved to the balcony railing and looked up. Razai leaned over the railing, staring out at the dark sky.
I had a sudden flash of the first time I saw him. It was just like this, wasn’t it? A dangerous, gorgeous man watching me from above.
“The food is an apology,” he said, face swathed in shadow. “Eat up, Detective. You sound ravenous.”
Just like that, the angel disappeared. The final click of his door closing told me he wasn’t coming back.
My hands trembled at the implication. He’d… he…
I clenched my fist tighter around the handle, my face hot and my heart beating.
“Fuck,” I hissed. Had I been that loud?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
All of Monday, I simmered in anger. Anger at him and at myself. I threw myself into student meetings. Into being the best fucking filer in all of Divine New York.
On top of that, that strange extra-intuition magical feeling returned. The one that felt like my intuition magic but responded to my thoughts and feelings. Every time I considered leaving the administrative building—even for a volcano coffee—a frenzied insistence kept me inside my office.
Just another thing to question my sanity with.
Thankfully, Razai didn’t visit. He sent a few texts with basic updates on the fallout of our meeting. As in, Redford called to chew his ass out, and never once mentioned me. No one thought twice about the dancer in the room. She’d been nothing more than atmosphere.
Got to live for the little blessings, right?
The odd intuition strain lasted into the evening. When I packed up at 6 p.m., however, everything changed.
The leading feeling guided me to the window. There, in the rain, Nathaniel Harlock stared up at me, black baseball cap shadowing all but his tight frown.
The next second, his chin jerked down. He pretended to stare at his phone.
That leading sensation pushed me toward him. I insisted, “This is ridiculous. He’s going to be gone by the time I get there.” But the magical push didn’t really care what I thought and just urged me harder. I stuck my head out of my door. “Hey, Quinn?”
The water Divine turned from her conversation with a counselor. Auburn eyes glimmered with interest, since I hardly ever approached her before she approached me. “What’s up?”
“Can you close up my office for me in ten minutes? Just like, turn off the light and lock it? I’m not lazy. It’s for a purpose, I promise.”
“No problem, Isra.” Her expression darkened. “And don’t worry—I made sure Razai knows not to step foot in this building with even a speck of mud on his shoes. I couldn’t believe the tracks he left last week.”
My exasperated sigh matched her irritation. “He put his boots on my desk.”
Her eyes sparked with a surprising amount of rage. “Shall I file a complaint report for you? It’ll be easy—”
“No, thanks,” I declined hastily. “I’ve got it covered. I can threaten him on my own time.”
