“Morning,” I reply, my face heating.
Dang it! First rule when talking about people: don’t get caught.
Stave suddenly gets very interested in the coffee maker, tapping his fingers impatiently as he waits for it to boil.
“Stave was just telling me a little bit of history. That’s all,” I say, trying to sound casual and definitely failing.
“Was he?” Eryx’s eyes cut to Stave, and something passes between them—a warning? An understanding?
Stave clears his throat. “Just about the district’s history, sir. Nothing specific.”
Eryx’s jaw tenses for a beat and then relaxes. “I see.”
The coffee comes to a boil, and Eryx moves to the percolator, giving Stave a slight nod. Stave takes the hint and slips out quietly.
Eryx pours two cups of coffee and then takes the cream and sugar, putting them in front of me. I’m about to grab the cream, but he beats me to it.
“Tell me when.”
He pours slowly, carefully, his hand steady. I watch the cream ribbon into the dark coffee, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close he's standing. Close enough that I can smell him—something clean and dark, like cedar and night air.
When he's poured enough, I say, "That's good," and my voice comes out softer than I intended.
“Sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
He cocks his head. “No sugar? For someone so sparkly, I’m shocked.”
“Sparkles don’t equal sweetness.”
His expression shifts to curiosity. “So I’m learning.”
The way he says it, like I’m a puzzle worth solving, makes my stomach swoop.
Plus, his gaze is so hot I look away, pick up my coffee and take a tentative sip. “Mm. Good beans.”
Eryx watches me over the rim of his own cup, those ice-blue eyes unreadable. “You weren’t in your room when I woke up.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Ah.” He takes a sip of coffee, and something flickers in his eyes. "Neither could I—not at first.”
The admission hangs between us. We were both lying awake. Both processing. Both thinking about…everything.
"I kept wondering if you were still awake," he says quietly. "If I should say something through the open door. But I didn't want to disturb you if you'd finally fallen asleep."
Heat crawls up my spine. "I was wondering the same thing."
We stare at each other, and this feels like another admission by Eryx, one that might have been hard for him to make, to admit that he is a real person, that he is human.
Be different.
The moment stretches between us, warm and fragile, until Echo yips and breaks the spell.
Eryx clears his throat. “You made yourself at home,” he says, eyeing my plate.
“I hope that’s okay.”
