Page 23 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Colour splashed across her cheeks, but her expression didn’t shift.
‘Alright,’ he took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I won’t touch you until you ask.’
Sighing, Jem held out the bag of clothing.
Analise’s lips were a thin, suspicious line as she snatched the bag. She peered into it, then stalked out of the kitchen.
Jem shook his head. ‘I can protect you from the Crown and the Gendarme, Ez, but I can’t protect you from your own stupidity.’
Analise changed her clothes, untangled her hair and crept down the stairs, boots in hand. She paused, listening. Silence. That meant Jem had gone. She hurried to the front door. She should have just spent the night with a dead rat, and not a certain blond man who she didn’t realise was shirtless until she was under the covers with him.
She gave the door knob a sharp turn.
‘It’s locked, remember,’ a voice called from the kitchen as she leant her forehead against the door, wanting to scream. ‘I’m also under the impression you don’t like my company.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Analise muttered. She threw the door a mutinous glare, then stalked into the kitchen. Ezra was at the table, sleeves rolled to the elbows, his tattoo snaking down his forearm. Light from the window haloed his head. There was a pot of tea and two cups sat on the table. Ezra nudged the teapot in her direction but what Analise really needed was a whiskey. Her hands shook so violently she could barely grip the teapot.
Ezra poured the tea for her.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered.
He waited for her to say more but she stayed silent. It annoyed him, her not talking. She could see it in the way his fingers tensed on his cup. Good. She didn’t owe him an explanation for anything.
Not to be deterred, Ezra gave her another smile. His jawline softened when he smiled, and his cheekbones became more prominent. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once, but it suited his face, a roughness that she tended to like. She looked away, reminding herself that, despite being good-looking—and a fabulous kisser—she knew nothing about him, and didn’t want to know.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘This is cosy.’
‘What is?’
‘Us. Here. Sharing a cup of tea. Did you sleep alright?’
Analise had already tried to forget she’d woken pressed against the firm lines of his body.
The corners of Ezra’s mouth twitched. ‘This is where you ask me how I slept.’
‘I don’t care how you slept.’
He laughed, running a hand through his hair. She’d never met anyone who laughed so freely, especially when there was nothing to laugh about. One of the nuns at the convent had laughed often. Analise liked the Sister’s laugh, and her smile; but then, she’d been a child with no true knowledge of how the world was.
When she ran away, she hadn’t known where she was going, only that she had craved freedom. Now, she was trapped in a grimy townhouse with a man who hogged the blankets and had no right to look the way he did. He was also, she suspected, used to charming his way out of, or into, everything.
‘I’m going to assume that I’ll be doing most of the talking for the duration of our stay,’ he said.
Several nights without a drink and Analise’s mouth was filled with sand and her skin itched. ‘You’re assuming I want to talk to you.’
Ezra gave her another infuriatingly cheerful smile.
‘You kidnapped me,’ she began, her voice dropping as anger flooded her. It was her default reaction, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
‘Saved your life,’ Ezra corrected.
‘Held me prisoner—’
‘Again, saved your life.’
‘Helped your Gendarme friend lock me in here—’
‘To save your life.’
