My heart hammered against my ribs, keeping time with the nervous tapping of my fingers against the workbench. I’d left cum drunk and dazed, like a quickie in an alley was supposed to end. I hadn’t expected him to track me down here. He hunted people for a living, for christ’s sake!
I forced myself to keep sorting, to maintain the pretense of normalcy even as my body remembered how his hands had felt, how he tasted—
“Interesting selection of merchandise you have here,” his voice carried from the front, that strange accent making every word sound like dark honey. “But I’m looking for something specific.”
“Oh? What can I help you find?” Twyla’s voice held none of its usual pep. Sometimes I forgot that under all that creative chaos was a shrewd businesswoman who’d built this place from the ground up.
“I believe you have a leather worker on staff. Is he available?”
My fingers slipped on the awl I’d been pretending to clean, piercing my palm. The metal was cold, grounding. A weapon, if I needed it—though against whatever supernatural thing Kronos was, it would be as effective as throwing paper clips at a freight train.
“Alex?” Twyla’s voice carried back to my workspace. Protecting me in her way. Giving me the choice to answer or not. I could stay silent, but the prickle along my spine told me Kronos already knew where I was. “Alex?” Twyla called again, her voice carrying a question. I tooka steadying breath and stepped out from my workspace, forcing myself to move with a confidence I didn’t feel.
“Can I help you?”
Kronos’s smile was slow, his gaze taking me in. “I believe you dropped something in your haste to get away from me last night.”
My stomach dropped. During that rushed encounter in the dark alley, had I—? My hands instinctively went to my back pocket. Empty. My wallet. It must have fallen when I’d dropped to my knees.
“Oh!” Twyla’s voice cut through the memory. “Alex, why didn’t you tell me you lost your wallet? I could have helped you look for it.” Her concern was genuine, but there was something else in her tone. Caution, maybe. She’d positioned herself between us, pretending to rearrange the display items.
“Oh. I hadn’t realized I’d lost it.” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt. I couldn’t look away from Kronos—the way his suit jacket pulled across his shoulders as he leaned against the counter, casual as a cat in the sun.
Twyla’s hands never stopped moving, but her body was tense. “Well, lucky it was found then.” She glanced between us, no doubt catching the tension crackling in the air. “Though I have to wonder how you knew where to return it.”
Kronos’s laugh was low and rich, like aged whiskey. “I have my ways.” His eyes caught mine, amusement dancing in their depths. “Though your workplace being listed on your ID made it easier than usual.”
The employee ID card Twyla had insisted on making for me, complete with the shop’s address in flowing script. I’d tucked it behind my driver’s license months ago and forgotten about it.
“I see,” Twyla said, as she straightened a display of vintage brooches with deliberate focus. “Well, I need to check on some inventory in the back. Alex, you can handle things out here?” The question was loaded—she was offering me an out.
“Don’t worrymi amor, I’ve got it covered,” I said, proud that my voice remained steady despite the way my pulse jumped when Kronos shifted closer, closing the careful distance I’d tried to maintain. Kronos looked between us.
Her lips twitched before she disappeared into the back room, her footsteps fading down the hall. Kronos leaned across the counter, his calloused fingers circling my wrist with a grip that was both gentle and unyielding. The warmth of his breath against my ear sent shivers down my spine, and I caught the faintest hint of his cologne—something woodsy and masculine that made my head spin in the crisp morning air.
Chapter Four
Wicked
The shop had quieted for the night, but my nerves were anything but calm. For the hundredth time today, I pulled up the new message window on my phone, staring at the number I’d saved from that damn business card. The cursor blinked mockingly as I deleted yet another attempt at a casual first text.
“Still composing your masterpiece?” Twyla’s voice drifted from behind the counter where she was counting down the register. I could hear the smirk without looking up.
“I’m not—” I protested, but my fingers were already typing again.
Alex:Hi. It’s Alex. Does this count as a ring?
My thumb hovered over the send button. Was it too cheesy? Too forward? Not forward enough? I’d beensecond-guessing myself since yesterday morning when he—
“Incoming!” Twyla called out. Before I could process her warning, she ‘accidentally’ bumped into me with a box of new inventory. My phone jerked in my hand, thumb hitting send before I could stop it.
“¡Ay, mierda!” I muttered, staring at the delivered confirmation in horror.
“Oops, did I do that?” Twyla’s innocent tone wouldn’t have fooled anyone, least of all me. Her dark purple nails, adorned with intricate golden runes, drummed against the box she was still holding. “Well, thank god for that. You’ve only rewritten that text about a thousand times.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “You saw that?”
“Honey, everyone in a three-block radius has seen you agonizing over that text.”
