Victoria: Unfortunately for you, I don’t know how to feel that.
Another glass of wine for me. And lactose-free milk for my intruder.
Victoria: You should’ve started with pain.
Azrael: For someone who pretends not to feel, you’re oddly fluent in emotions.
Victoria: I had an excellent teacher.
I mentally slap myself for saying this. Why the fuck did I over-share with him, again? He doesn’t need to know about my past, he would only use it against me. Luckily, he says nothing, so I just continue.
Victoria: Professor, my brain is broken, remember? You cannot start with the mind. You have to start with the body.
If the conversation is useful to him in any way, he doesn’t show it. Twelve hours later and there’s still no reply.
I almost give up hope until there’s a sudden knock on my door. Now, it could be anyone, if not for the fact that nobody besides Alex and the woman who cooks my food know where I live, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him in the past four years. This can only be the one person I am desperate to see. He really needs to stop playing hard to get and just admit that he loves me already, so we can move on with our lives.
“Is this your version of texting back?” I ask, opening the door so he can come inside.
Azrael looks at me for just one second before something—someone—behind me catches his eyes.
“I see you’ve got company.” A smirk forms on his lips.
I turn around to see Cat perched on the armrest of the couch like a gargoyle, grooming himself and uninterested in the presence of the new guest.
And while Azrael’s lips are slightly curled, the way he looks at the poor soul is almost hateful. Which only gives me more reason to keep him.
“Not much of a cat person, are we?” I ask with pretend innocence.
“More like not a fan of things that cannot take care of themselves. It broke in, didn’t it?”
“He, not it.Hefollowed me,” I correct him. “He ambushed me during my walk like a fucking ghost, so I had to bring him home—The Cat Distribution System and all that shit. Plus, Cat is a very determined predator with apparently very good taste in wine.”
“Cat?” he repeats, one brow raised. “Audrey Hepburn?”
I shut the door behind him. “Exactly.”
He tilts his head, seemingly still trying to process the unusual turn of events. “So you named your cat, Cat, like in?—”
“AfterCat.” I correct him again, heading for the wine.
“He also bites if you move too fast,” I add, emptying my wineglass. “Which, ironically, makes him the second-most dangerous thing in this room.”
I’m about to grab a second glass, hoping he will join me for a drink, but he anticipates my move and cuts me off.
“I didn’t come for a drink. Get dressed.”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. “You disrupt my evening, and now you’re kidnapping me? Or is this your way of taking me on a date?”
He steps in closer, looking straight into my eyes, and I need to remind myself to breathe. “Save the fantasies for when you’re alone. I just want to give you what you asked for.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. I ask for a lot of things.”
His eyes flick down, then back to mine, unreadable. “Clothes. Shoes. Now.”
I hold his stare a second longer, but it’s useless, he won’t tell me anything.
Ten minutes later, I am ready. “If this ends with my body in a ditch, I want it noted that I looked phenomenal.”