7
Danica
Iwoke up angry. This wasn’tuncommonfor me– I typically harnessed a healthy amount of rage just to get through my day. But the fury that swept through me warned me that I wasn’t going to be happy when I opened my eyes.
The heady scent of cedar and citrus was my second clue. I opened my eyes and sat up. Once again, my knives were on the table next to Samael’s bed.
I stared at him. One second to reach across and grab a throwing knife, another to aim… I could have it buried in Samael’s throat in less than three seconds.
“So what, you put me in your bed and then watch me sleep like a creepy creeper?”
His lips twitched. He was sitting a few feet from the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as his eyes scanned the book in his lap.
“Tell me that isn’t the McCormick coven’s grimoire.”
He looked up and gave me a wicked smile. “I’m not in the habit of lying to you.”
I wrestled with that. I hadn’t wanted the grimoire to fall into the wrong hands, but that didn’t mean that Samael’s hands were the right ones.
“What are you going to do with that?”
He was silent and I cursed. I knew what he’d do with it. Anything he damn pleased.
“You snore.”
“Do not.”
I sure did. My nose was broken a few years ago, the cartilage turned to mush. I hadn’t been able to afford an experienced healer, and he’d described the cartilage in the tip of my nose as a ‘mosaic’. While he’d managed to straighten it on the outside, he’d warned me that things were ‘a little fucked up,’ on the inside.
And now I snored.
“What time is it?” I was so mad I couldn’t even look at him.
“Three pm. Your body wanted to sleep for longer, however I knew you would want to get to work so I lifted my compulsion.”
“That’s real fucking good of you.”
I threw his blankets off me. If I wasn’t so furious, I’d be fighting the urge to roll over and go back to sleep.
“Vassago located the cameras close to your gnome friend’s store. Steve is working on them now.”
I almost stumbled. “Thank you.”
He was silent while I pulled on my jeans. I didn’t even care that I was standing in my underwear and a t-shirt. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet.
“I don’t like it when you’re displeased with me.”
He said it in a tone that suggested I get over my displeasure real quick. I scowled over my shoulder at him. “Displeased? Try fucking furious.”
His nostrils flared. “I’m not used to taking others’ emotions into account. I see a problem and I fix it.”
I had a feeling that was the closest Samael ever came to an apology. In his mind, the problem was me. I was tired. So he fixed it. I could see the twisted demon logic even if I couldn’t get past the missing piece of autonomy.
I shook my head. If Samael had his way, this would be my life. Always falling in line with whatever he decided was the correct choice for me.
I slid my Mark II into my spine sheath and strapped it on. “Every time you do something like this, it makes meloatheyou. You realize that, right?”
A hand clamped down on my shoulder, turning me in place. Samael’s expression was hard, and a muscle twitched in his cheek.
