Page 38 of De-Witched

When the doors opened, she stayed still. Awkward, she gestured into the hall. “You can find your way from here, right?”

“I’m fine.” His words were clearer, sharper, stinging in their enunciation.

She bit her lip, shame an oily slide down her spine as his long legs took him away. Before she could think better of it, she darted forward, slamming a hand against the doors to stop them from closing.

“I’m sorry,” she called out, softer than a shout, mindful of how late it was.

He stopped but didn’t turn around, still stiff.

She swallowed past the uneasiness. “I didn’t mean it...that way. But I shouldn’t have said it. It was stupid.”

When he still didn’t speak, she ruefully reflected she shouldn’t be surprised. Instead, she let the doors go and stepped back as they slid closed.

Only to jump when they slid open again as if—well. As if by magic.

He stood on the other side. His hair was disheveled, his tie loose, his vest unbuttoned over an untucked shirt, and yet he stood, posture perfect. And though he disguised it well, she recognized someone in pain. Her heart clenched.

Though he’d stopped the elevator, he didn’t speak. His expression was guarded, almost like he didn’t have the words.

That was okay. Leah always had plenty.

She wet her lips. “You know what I’d love right now? Coffee.”

He blinked those stunning green eyes, less glazed than before.

She edged him backward, allowing the elevator to close and return to the lobby without her. “Coffee. Perk me up before I go home.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“So, you see my need.”

“Don’t you want to go to bed?”

Unbidden, a shiver brushed against her nerves.

“I do,” she rasped and heard the forbidden truth in her voice. “But it’s a long journey back to mine. I could use the jolt.” She hesitated, realizing she could be misreading him. “Unless you want to go to bed.”

Flickers of light danced in his eyes as he watched her, then he inclined his chin and led the way to his apartment.

10

Leah wasn’t exactly sure how she’d ended up looking out at Gabriel’s magnificent view. If she traced a path from the start of the evening to now, it wouldn’t have been an obvious one.

She disliked him, right? He was arrogant and rude and completely unapologetic about it.

So why, she asked herself for the umpteenth time as she turned from the city lights to accept a mug of steaming coffee, had she pushed her way into his apartment?

The apartment was nice, big—hardly shocking—open plan. A short hallway led to the kitchen-slash-living room, where a corner sofa done in soft gray dominated the right side. A muted rug in cream and gray lay across the dark hardwood floor and a glass coffee table sat atop it, only a perfectly straight remote on top of that. The wide-screen TV it belonged to was hung on the eggshell-painted wall. She couldn’t imagine Gabriel watching TV, couldn’t imagine him relaxing at all.

Beyond, a deck of some kind with an iron railing could be seen out of floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond that was the familiar placid darkness of Lake Michigan, which she’d been staring at to give both of them a chance to settle.

At least he didn’t seem as drunk now, either her words or his own warlock nature slicing through the alcohol haze. He cradled his own mug as he retreated to the breakfast bar.

Staying in their corners, she thought with some amusement, bringing the mug up to blow on it.

Since he seemed on edge, a territorial animal with someone in his space, she hunted for a safe topic.

“Sonny says you’ve been getting on well at the shelter,” she said, nudging her hips back against the window. The cold seeped through her jeans and she quickly straightened. “Ah, are you enjoying it?”

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