Page 173 of Bitten & Burned
Fig wasn’t even the same phoeline he’d been the last time we’d been here.
I watched Fig as he ran around the apartment, to all his old spots, heard littlemrrpsas he found his favorite toy, encountered his empty food dish, and stomped through his clean litter box. He still seemed to remember in this new life, anyway.
“I was expecting something a little… bigger?”
I glanced back at Quil, who was gazing around the room.
“Are you saying my apartment’s too small for you, milord?” I asked, grinning.
“I’m saying I feel like I’m going to break everything here,” he countered.
“Don’t worry, Quil. The furniture’s sturdier than it looks. Survived me, after all,” Vael called from the kitchen.
I had to smile when I looked at the two of them. Vael looked like he belonged, and Quil looked so out of place. It was as if Vael were a teaspoon, not the same size as the other spoons in the drawer, but at least the same shape. And Quil was a knife in the same drawer. Too sharp for a space this soft.
Quil rolled his shoulders and arms, accidentally swiping one of my cloaks off the coat rack and over-adjusting.
“Fuck, sorry…”
I’d never imagined watching him wrestle a coat rack would make me want to kiss him. Yet here we were. I bit back a laugh. “You’re fine,” I said. “It’s just a cloak, not a priceless relic.”
Quil looked unconvinced. He picked it up carefully, as if afraid it would combust in his hands.
“Still feels like I shouldn’t touch anything unless I’m told to.”
“You’re not a bull in a china shop,” I said gently.
He gave me a look. “No, but I’m a predator in a witch’s home.”
“So? Fig’s a tyrant in a cat’s body. It balances out.” I reached for his hand before he could withdraw into himself. “You belong here more than you think.”
Quil laughed, scratching his neck. “So it is just… this?” He looked around.
“Gods, Quil, you make me feel as if I’m living in squalor.”
“No, I just meant… are all apartments this small in the city?”
Before I could reply, Fig leapt up onto Quil’s shoulder, tail flicking against his jaw.
“There,” I said smugly. “If Fig approves, you’re forgiven.” I walked over to the window, where I threw back the curtains to reveal the skyline. “Not as many stars here, but there are tons of lights.”
Quil blinked as he stared at the window. “It’s almost as bright as day, isn’t it?” He moved closer. “Almost feels like it used to… all the light, but no warmth.”
Vael approached from behind, holding two mugs of tea. “I quite agree. It’s strange at first, but you do get used to it.”
Quil’s fingers brushed the glass. “I used to think I’d never miss daylight. But sometimes I do.”
I took the mug from Vael, bringing it to my lips. A bit too bitter for my taste. Perhaps Anton was rubbing off on me. “This needs more sugar,” I said simply, turning towards the kitchen.
I made it three steps before the floor tilted under me.
Too fast. I’d moved too fast, and now I was paying for it.
My thigh throbbed in time with my pulse. My vision swam. I set my forehead gently against the counter, bracing myself on my elbows as the room spun around me.
Quil was saying something. I couldn’t hear it—not clearly. His voice was too quiet.
Until it wasn’t.
