He slid into step beside me, glancing around at the rustic interior. “We’ll manage the best we can.”
The Jolly Joint wasn’t a fancy place, but it had some of the best food in town. The furniture looked like it was from the last century, antique as in ‘old’, not as in overpriced collectibles. The tables were small, nicked, and in dire need of a good sanding. The fabric of the seats was stained, and some of the stitching was unraveling. They smelled like they’d absorbed the scents of all the meals that had come before this one. I loved every popped stitch and wobbly leg because they meant this place had a history, a personality that hadn’t been scrubbed, sanded, and whitewashed away.
Arlo, our waiter, set down a large bread basket between us, his gaze lowered to Nero’s jacket. The reverence in his eyes said he knew what Nero’s rank meant—that there was an angel in their midst. His back still bowed over, the waiter left us alone at our table. Nero took a bite of a roll. He quickly finished it off.
“I knew you would like this place,” I said as he started on his second roll.
“The place is rough around the edges, but it only makes it more charming.”
From the way he was looking at me, he wasn’t talking about just the food. He was talking about me too.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “And at least it’s away from the prying eyes of the Legion.”
“You shouldn’t allow yourself to be bothered by their gossip.”
I traced my finger across marks in the table, where someone had carved ‘Heather loves James’ into the wood with a steak knife.
“To which gossip are you referring?” I asked him, abandoning the table graffiti to take a sesame roll from the basket. “Perhaps the rumor that you decided to make me your lover the moment I sped off across the Black Plains to save you from a nest of nasty vampires? Or everyone’s insistence that I don’t even have a choice in the matter because Nero Windstriker always gets what he wants?”
“They’re bored and need a way to fill the time between battles and getting high. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“So it’s not true?”
“No. Of course not,” he said. “I didn’t decide I would make you my lover after you rescued me from the Black Ruins. That only reenforced what I knew about you.”
“Meaning?”
“I decided I would make you my lover the moment I met you.” Danger sparked in his eyes—danger that tasted like cherries dripped in dark chocolate. “And you always had a choice, Leda. I’m just making it my mission to convince you. Because, yes, I do usually get what I want.”
Our waiter chose that moment to return to take our orders. He turned to Nero. Usually, it went ladies first, but it was angels first above all.
“You will take my lovely companion’s order first,” Nero said.
Surprise flashed in Arlo’s eyes. Angels enjoyed privileges, and they always came first.
“Of course,” Arlo said, recovering. “What can I get you, my lady?”
My lady? I thought about reminding him that we’d gone to school together, but what was the fun in that?
“I’ll have the Jolly Platter and a pineapple juice,” I told him.
Nero peered over his menu at me. The table was so small that as he turned the page, his hand brushed past mine. Then it retreated, so close and yet so far away. Nero was playing with me. Or was he? Maybe I was getting myself wound up over nothing. He was just flipping through a menu, for crying out loud. And yet he’d been looking at me the whole time, not at the menu
“The Spring Chicken and an Angelfire spring water.” His eyes didn’t leave me even as he placed his order.
I braided my fingers together, looking into his eyes, wondering what secrets lay beneath his armor. A shadow hovered over my shoulder.
“What is it, Arlo?” I asked him impatiently, keeping my eyes on Nero.
“Your menu, Leda,” he whispered.
I slid my elbow off my closed menu. “Take it.”
I heard the rustle of leather and pressed cotton, and then he was gone with the menus. Nero’s hand slid over mine, and though his touch only brushed the surface, a river of liquid fire burned through my veins, enveloping my entire body, consuming me. I didn’t want to lose this staring contest, whatever game it was that angels played. But I just couldn’t look anymore. The look in Nero’s eyes should have scared me, but it didn’t. It excited me. And that scared me.
I could feel everyone’s eyes on us. When I turned to meet their stares, they hastily looked away. But I knew they were still watching us out of the corner of their eyes.
“We might be away from the prying eyes and gossiping mouths of the Legion, but we are under the spotlight of the town,” I said, taking a sip of the pineapple juice Arlo had just set down. “And the denizens of Purgatory don’t have monster battles and getting high on Nectar to fill the boring hours. We are their entertainment.”
“You sure are worrying a lot about others. The only eyes you should be thinking about right now are mine. The only mouth that you need to worry about is mine.”
Another innuendo. This had to be some kind of record for him.
“This is our date,” he continued. “Not theirs.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“If it makes this easier…” He gave his hand a little wave, and as if by magic, the people in the room all looked away.