“Can’t have cake and no ice cream.”
I hobbled over and wrapped my arms around him from behind.“I’m really lucky,” I whispered.
“Are you?”The back was stiff.
“Not many women get a gorgeous guy who can also cook.”
The stiffness did not change.“Well, it’s good that I’m useful for something.”
I let go.‘Cause it’s hard to fight while snuggling, and we were obviously going to fight.“Okay, what?”
Cyrus carefully—too carefully—took up the golden brown sugar bombs with a slotted spatula and put them on a paper-towel-lined plate, before sifting more sugar, of the powdered kind, over the top.His actions were spare, perfectly controlled, and well-thought-out, which was bad.It meant he was having to exert effort not to throw the entire thing across the room and go hairy at the same time.
It meant he wasn’t upset; he was UPSET, and shit.
“Caleb have anything interesting to say?”he asked, his voice conversational.
“Yeah.”
That got me another glance, at least.I wondered if he’d expected me to deny it.He switched off the fryer and turned to face me, with flour dusting the apron and the tee that was straining to contain all those sunbronzed muscles.There was more flour on his nose and exasperation in his eyes, and that, plus tousled dark hair from running his hands through it, made me want to jump him, right then and there.
I refrained, as I was in no shape and he was in no mood.
“He said the last of Jenkin’s supply was destroyed in the attack,” I said.“So the only person who might have more is the Reaper, assuming we can get to him before the dark does.”
“We?”
“They want me on this.”
“Of course.And what did you tell him?”he asked, his jaw tight.
“The obvious.”
“Which is?”
I spread my hands, then had to clutch the counter with one to keep my balance.“That I am out of this for the moment, and have no idea when that moment might end.That I’m not up to fighting a kitten right now, much less the prehistoric rage machines that are on the same trail that the Corps is.And that I have my students to think about.”
“And what else?”Cyrus crossed his arms because he knew me.
“I said I would follow up a lead—talking only—and see if I could get anything for the Corps to run down.But that was it.”
“What lead?”The dark eyes narrowed.
“Grocery store guy left something behind.”I held up the little evidence bag.“Caleb called them ghost beads, said they came off a protection charm.Thought I’d ask Sienna about them.”
“And say you find something.How, exactly, do you expect the Corps to ‘run anything down’ if there are Relics involved?We saw a perfect demonstration three nights ago of just how effective even senior mages are against us.”
“Againstus?”I asked, my own eyes narrowing.
“Our kind.”
I frowned and sat at the kitchen table because my legs were feeling unsteady.“Our kind are Weres, not Relics, Cyrus.”
“We used to be Weres,” he corrected.“And still are.Just an earlier version.A fiercer one.”
I stared at him and wished I had coffee.There was some in the pot; I guessed he’d made it to go with the doughnuts, and he saw me looking.Before I could ask, I had a cup made the way I like it, and two still-hot sugar bombs placed in front of me on a napkin.
Feed the pack, I thought, watching the powdered sugar melt into the hot surface, but I didn’t eat anything.
