Pizza by the Slice
A man and a woman stand at the counter, and I eavesdrop as they each order a slice of pepperoni. I do the same, and after waving my phone over the payment terminal, take the thin paper plate with the slice of pizza over to a booth and sink down onto the red vinyl seat.
It is hot, almost burning my tongue. Gooey. The crust crackles as I bite down into a pillowy softness. I flick my tongue to swipe at the corner of my lips. Such an odd motion, but instinctual, somehow.
The flavors meld together. Some of the cheese tears off, leaving the dough naked save for a light sheen of sauce. It glistens and, fuck me. Why is that so appealing?
The meat is salty and rich, with a burn totally unlike that of the molten cheese. I must have more.
After two more slices, my stomach starts to feel…uncomfortably full. I push to my feet, and the man behind the counter stares at me in disbelief. “You can’t still be hungry, dude. I serve the biggest slices in the city.”
“Dude?” I straighten to my full height, prepared to smite the man for his familiarity. “I am an an—”Fuck.
“It’s just an expression. Geez.” He turns and pulls another pizza out of the oven. “I need a vacation. This job is getting to me.”
I hurry out of the shop. I almost told the man I was an angel. The very thing Killian and Maddox warned me not to do. Does hunger—or its opposite—affect one’s intelligence or judgement?
I could call the warlock and his mate and ask. But given how much fun they had at my expense last night, perhaps that is not wise.
The sun is starting to set. I cannot stay in San Francisco any longer. I should go to New York City next. The desk clerk at the hotel said that was the most exciting place he had ever been. I will start there.
But first, I need to find an alley where no one will notice me to disappear.
A cathedral looms at the end of the block. It calls to me, the Gothic spires standing proudly against the sky. A few more minutes in San Francisco will not cause any harm.
Willow
My whisper darts up the aisle, runsthroughthe altar, and stops at the heavy purple drape before staring back at me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss. “Stop!”
“The Almighty does whatever she pleases,” a deep voice says from behind me. “I have found that asking her to stop has always been rather futile.”
I yelp and glance up into a pair of golden, amber eyes filled with amusement. His hair tumbles over his shoulders in waves. God, he’s almost too beautiful to look at. If only I were in the mood for company.
“You know God personally?” I ask. “Because if not, mind your own business.”
He holds up his hands and backs away. “My apologies. I do not have much experience talking to people. I meant no disrespect.”
I snort. “I doubt that.”
The man’s brows knit together. “I do not lie.”
“You look like a model. I’m sure you have women falling all over you.”
I scoot to the end of the pew, but when I stand, my blood pressure bottoms out and my heart races. Dark spots swim in front of my eyes. Swaying, I flail my arms, desperate to grasp on to something—anything—to keep me upright.
A spicy, rich scent wraps around me like a warm blanket. I want to live in it. To stay here forever. But then my vision clears, and I’m staring up at those mesmerizing golden orbs. Only now, the amusement is gone, chased away by concern.
“Are you all right?” He sinks down onto the pew with me still held against his chest, and I end up with my legs draped over his.
Am I?
A strange man has me nestled in his lap, and I’m not trying to get away. I’m seeing ghosts—well,oneghost who looks just like me—and I came back to the place that scares me most in this world.
“You need a doctor.” He shifts, and his hard length presses against my ass. I suck in a breath, trying to wriggle free.
Shit. That’s not helping. He’s only getting harder. He knows it, too. His cheeks take on a red tinge, and he stills.
