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“I have to.”
This time she did turn. Pain, fear, and anger glimmered in her slitted eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
I cupped her cheeks. “If he wanted to hurt me, he already would have. Clearly, he has shit boundaries, but I can’t let you get in a fight with an archangel.”
She looked me up and down and stated, hushed, “I already am.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I hardly count.”
She shook me off. “So. You’re the only one allowed to interact with dangerous people, then? Even though you have the most to lose? Sometimes I just don’t understand you.” She stalked to a bench and sat.
Confused and a little surprised by the accusation in her tone, I tried, “Azra—”
“Go in before I change my mind.”
Like a good best friend, I did what I was told. I pushed the doors, which were of course already unlocked, open. Normally, the scent of spices, coffee, and sugar calmed me, but I was all cold sweat and jitters.
The stranger’s head was down as he sipped from his steaming cup. The cezve next to him indicated he had prepared his own coffee.
Keep it cool, Gray.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I spat.
Good enough.
Emerald and gold eyes cut through me when his proud chin lifted. “The coffee is shit.”
I blinked. “What?”
He set down the porcelain cup and stuck out his tongue, which was dark brown and coated in coffee dregs. His eyes crossed as he tried to look downward to check.
I snorted when I noticed the spoon next to the brass pot. “You don’t eat the mud, idiot. And you don’t stir either.”
He shuddered. “I think I added too much nutmeg. Or was it the allspice? I should have really followed the recipe, but I love the thrill of the unknown.”
“You seem rather cheerful for a morning of murders.”
“Murders? Only one died today.”
“Azra out there is ready to kill you.” I pointed to my fluffy-haired friend seething on her bench.
“Is that so?” He fluttered his lashes in surprise. Actually fluttered them.
Those were silvery too. A darker gray like his brows.
With his sunglasses gone, it’s like my brain wanted to categorize and memorize every one of his features. Slender, elegant nose. High cheekbones. A bladed jaw. He draped himself in the chair, over the table. He took up so much of the space, owning it effortlessly.
Arrogant prick.
That’s when I remembered it was my turn to answer. I cleared my throat. “So. The news.”
He gestured to the seat beside him. “It’ll only get worse from here,” he promised. Not so cheery this time.
“So you say.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t dig your own little rabbit hole yesterday.”
I felt myself bristle, and I couldn’t stop it.
