Page 24 of A City of Smoke and Demons
‘And you expect me to sit around and chat like we’re friends?’ Analise’s temper was boiling. She took a deep breath, trying to be calm.
Ezra leant both elbows on the table, those blue-green eyes on hers. ‘You really don't know how to say thank you, do you?’
‘And you don’t know when to shut up,’ Analise shot back. Ezra stood, going to hunt around the cupboards until he found a frying pan and a bowl. Analise narrowed her eyes.
‘I can feel you glaring,’ he said, not turning around.
‘Who broke you in?’ she asked.
He gave her a startled look over his shoulder.
‘You appear to be house broken,’ she continued. ‘I’m not going to lie and say I’m impressed, but I do find it surprising.’
He chuckled, opening a drawer and pulling some cutlery free. ‘Do you honestly care?’
‘No.’
‘So you don’t want breakfast then?’
Analise couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything decent. She should be thin as a rail, but she wasn’t. Her curves clung to her frame. She didn’t care—she liked bread.
Ezra cracked an egg expertly into the frying pan.
‘I like mine scrambled,’ she announced.
‘Fried is better.’
She grit her teeth. ‘I’m not hungry anyway,’ she lied, bundling her hair into a knot with burning fingers. Her stomach growled in protest as Ezra deftly flipped his eggs. She ignored the spike of envy.
With his meal plated, Ezra returned to his seat. He was managing to get on nerves Analise didn’t know she had. She pulled a steady breath in through her nose, thinking of calming things, like sunshine and flowers and roses with thorns that sliced the skin.
Out of all the people in this city, why did she have to be stuck here with him? She exhaled, throat tight. It might make it easier if she could at least talk to him without wanting to strangle him, so she tried again. ‘I slept fine. You?’
Ezra grinned.
She held her breath, and counted to ten. ‘How long have you worked for Maddog?’
That earned her a slightly suspicious glance. ‘A while.’
‘What do you do?’ She poured another cup of tea, not remembering drinking the first, almost draining the pot.
Ezra met her eyes. ‘I’m his prize boxer.’
Analise laughed, but when he didn’t, her laughter died. ‘Seriously? You don’t look like a boxer. You look more like, oh, I don’t know, one of the pimps from the skin market.’
‘Looks can be deceiving, and I’m going to take that as a compliment. Do you like working in a morgue with all those dead bodies?’
This was something she could talk about. ‘I do. Did,’ she corrected. ‘I guess I’ve lost my job.’
‘I’m going to assume I have as well,’ Ezra said. He finished his eggs, picking up the tea pot, frowning. ‘You almost drank all the tea.’
Analise stored that information away for later, nodding at his tattoo. ‘What is that supposed to be?’
He pushed his sleeve up. ‘A dog.’
‘It doesn’t look like a dog. It looks like a dragon. Why did you get that?’
Ezra shrugged, tugging his sleeve down. ‘Consider it my mark of servitude.’
