I flinched slightly at that.
My grip on the knife tightened.
“Doesn’t look like it,” I muttered.Except he’s out to kill me.
“Yes. Because I care about you.”
My heart skipped, traitorous. And even though I knew it was a lie, my brain couldn’t ignore the soft way he said it. He motioned towards the kitchen stool with a tilt of his head.
“I’d be a fool to come near you,” I said, unmoving.
“You want answers, yeah?” he asked, the words slow.
I hesitated. Of course I wanted answers. But not at the expense of my life.
“Why carry a little object when you won’t even come close?”
He glanced down, his gaze tracing the bulge in my pocket. Heat prickled up my neck. I hadn’t realised how tense my hand was until my fingers began to cramp.
Slowly, I withdrew the knife and raised my chin. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I stood a real chance against him. But I also wasn’t about to cower.
“I have it to protect myself,” I said and took a single step forward.
“From who? Me, no?” he goaded.
God, I hated his voice. Not because it was unpleasant—it wasn’t. But because it made me feel like a child playing games I didn’t understand.
Rolling my eyes, I edged closer and stopped by the stairs.
He tilted his head, studying me like I was some puzzle with missing pieces. Did I mention that I hated the way he looked at me, too? “You’re going to have to do more than that.”
“Say whatever you want to say. I can hear perfectly from here.”
“Given your hard-on for indulging in dangerous things, I thought you’d be bolder than this.”
Speaking like you know me.The thought burned on the tip of my tongue. But instead of arguing, I sighed again and moved closer,dragging the stool away from him. It wasn’t far, but far enough for me to pretend I was safe.
“Happy?”
To my shock, he gave a quiet, honest reply. “Sure.”
I watched his fingers pour steaming water into the second cup, his movements affecting me in a way that shouldn’t have.
“I didn’t say yes to drinking tea,” I said to distract myself. “What if I wanted coffee? Just because you’re having—”
“You don’t drink coffee.” He sounded as though he was tired of me already. “Why are you trying to pick a fight?”
My mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. I stared at him, stunned. How the hell did he know I didn’t drink coffee?Does he—does he read minds?
“I don’t read minds. Your cabinet told me all I needed to know.”
That made me frown harder.
But he was right. My cabinet was packed with different kinds of teas—jasmine, peppermint, chamomile, even some obscure blend I wanted to try out. And not a single trace of caffeine. I’d always avoided it because of my mother’s heart condition, and it was banned in my home as she couldn’t resist the smell nor the temptation of making one. I’d stopped taking it for her sake. And I got used to not having it at all.
I adjusted on the stool, reminding myself not to get too comfortable. “Why don’t you have a shadow? If you’re not human, then what are you? Why did you move into my house? Why did you book other places? Have you been stalking me? Is this because of The Crater? Why did you save—”
“One question at a time,” he said, pushing the cup of tea towards me, making it seem like we were casually talking over breakfast.
