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His chuckle took a darker tone. “That’s what I like about it. When people look down on you, Gray, it’s a tell.”
“Like cards?” I asked, not following.
“Exactly. Pay attention to what a person uses—be it appearances or power—to deem you lesser than they. Because that is the thing they value most. For instance,” he said, stretching out again, his calf coming closer and closer to my thigh. “Clave insults me for my lack of professionalism. That doesn’t mean I’m supposed to become more professional to please him. But now I know exactly how to drive that motherfucker insane. Or manipulate him,” he added casually. “I refuse him honorifics when I want to irritate him. Or, I can tighten my verbiage and conduct when I need him to cooperate.”
“I can appreciate that perspective,” I replied with a smirk. “When you put it that way, it does make sense. So, when archangels look down on you for not having an affinity, how do you interpret that?”
“They’re in it for appearances. Social status. One another’s approval. It’s the insecurity around their own tenuous influence in this world. They love finding someone lower than themselves. Anything to make their egos feel safer.”
Before I could respond, he tacked on, “But in any case, I don’t find it appealing. Having the power to change literal nature around you. It’s not my taste, and I’m not overly upset about my fate.”
I frowned. “That’s strange coming from an angel. Considering it’s your literal birthright.”
“Not for me, it isn’t. But maybe I’d feel differently if I’d been born with it. Who knows? But enough about me, you mysterious woman you. What kind of genes gave you your power?”
“Most likely shifter,” I hedged. “Because of the tracking, obviously. But I’ve never had any physical characteristics to give me a clue about my heritage, so it must be really watered down.”
“But you’re immortal, correct?”
“Tested and confirmed. Not like that matters anyway.” Being immortal didn’t mean you had incredible powers.
“Such a mystery.”
That statement reminded me of what he’d said when we were trapped in the closet.
A mystery. A walking puzzle. As you try to put the world together, my only interest will be breaking you apart.
I cleared my throat and rose, heading toward the kitchen. “No mystery here. What you see is what you get.” Drinking a glass of water would give me the space I needed.
“Liar.”
The water caught in my lungs, and I hacked it out for half a minute. Wheezing and pounding my chest, I said, “Asshole.”
Razai’s head rested on the overstuffed couch rail, his hair flopping over the edge. He watched me fight for my life with an affectionate smirk. The position exposed the smooth skin of his neck and the dents of his collarbone.
I dragged my eyes back to my glass. He wasn’t trying to look sexy. He just was. I’d have to get used to it and pull myself together.
But now flashes of memory assaulted me. I remembered how he’d felt against my body. The stroke of his hand down my spine. The way he touched me like he actually wanted me…
“Gray…”
The sound of my name jerked me back into focus. “Yeah?”
Razai’s expression was more satisfied than anything, as if he could sense my train of thought.
Shit. Am I blushing?
“Let’s go over your progress on these files, alright?”
“Yup. Totally. On it. Let’s go.”
Smooth, Gray. Smooth.
While we reviewed the files together, Razai interjected with some new information here and there. Like, Yariel was a quiet student, but focused. He was determined to come out the top of every class. And, Sydni liked to party a lot, but she always finished her assignments.
Then, President Castile finally got to my email and sent me all of the students’ class schedules from their first year to their most current.
Four hours later, I was more exhausted than I’d been in a long, long time. My bun had mostly fallen out of its tie. My eyes were blurry and drooping shut. I was officially ready for bed.
