“You worry me, Hazel,” Zephyr murmurs, wrapping his arm around my middle from behind.
The next thing I know, I’m dangling a foot or two off the ground—damn height difference—and then, we’re in the air. The flapping of his wings sends a rush of cool air across my face, and I try to determine how a human or witch would act in this situation.
Even if he dropped me face first onto the concrete from fifty feet in the air, it wouldn’t kill me. It might ruin my day as I healed, but it’s hard to be afraid of simple things when you’re truly undying.
My hands fly to Zephyr’s forearm to hold on for dear life.
“A little warning would have been nice,” I mutter.
“I thought you would enjoy the view,” he says simply in response.
Wow.
I always thought I was the most socially inept person on the planet, but Zephyr might just take the cake.
My day only gets more awkward as Zephyr camps outinthe shop. I mistakenly breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves around two p.m. Only he comes back with some type of human pasta in to-go containers with several caffeinated beverages.
I frown at the metal tray with a white cardboard lid as I try to come up with any feasible excuse for not eating.
“I don’t think I should eat. I have a stomachache,” I say, impressed with my ability to think on the fly.
“It’s likely due to not eating. You skipped breakfast,” Zephyr says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you worked through lunch. Not that there was much need for it. I’m confused how this place even stays in business.”
“All it takes is selling one old spell book, and it more than pays for my hourly rate to have me here four or five days a week.”
“I see.” He stretches forward, grabbing the container in front of him at the small consultation table. It’s where we sat the first time he came into the shop, but thankfully, I’m no longer terrified that he might attack at any moment. “I believe you have the spaghetti with marinara sauce.” He works around the circular aluminum pan and pulls off the topper. “That would make this the chicken fettuccine. I was unsure if you had a preference, so I got both. Just let me know if you’d like to switch.”
He grabs a packet of plastic silverware and rips it open.
The moment is so surreal that I almost don’t know what to do with myself.
Just two mortal enemies, sitting around in a spell shop about to eat some Italian food…
Food that I’m probably going to have to vomit up later because my system isn’t set to digest it like a human’s would.
Liquids are one thing.
Solid food is another entirely.
I mean, I assume so.
Human food has never appealed to me, meaning I’ve never tried it.
I know my biological fathers can’t digest solid foods, but there’s the added component of my mother’s DNA mixed in somewhere, so maybe I can?
Finding out in front of an audience doesn’t sound the least bit appealing.
Today sucks.
“I didn’t know angels consumed human food,” I say, opening the container in front of me.
Maybe if I poke around enough, he’ll fail to notice that I didn’t eat any?
What has my life come to?
“Technically, I don’t need to,” he says, shrugging a muscular shoulder. “Two of my best friends are sentinels. They require regular meals, and eating with them became a habit to avoid standing out. It’s the same reason I occasionally drink a beer while surveilling a target.” His eyes cut to mine. “Would you prefer to switch before I dig in? I truly have no preference. Experience tells me both will be delightful.”
I smile, shaking my head.
