Page 37 of The Devil and His Sparrow

“What the—” I mumbled before another text immediately followed it.

The air in my lungs stilled. It was a photo of me talking on the phone while sitting on the barstool.

From right now.

From the direction of my couch.

I whipped around and found Zagan leaned back on my couch, one arm draped over the back, his legs spread in a picture of ease, and his thumb hovering over an open message thread on his phone.

His blue eyes found mine. “You didn’t respond to my text, so I decided to pop in.”

I clutched my chest where my heart tried to regain a normal rhythm. “Are you crazy? How long have you been here?”

“Since the moment you got here.”

My jaw fell open. “W-What? So you were here even when you texted me?”

He nodded shamelessly. “I was waiting in the shadows. I gave you a chance to text back, and if you did, I was going to knock on the door like a normal person. But you ignored my text, so here we are.”

My mind sputtered to keep up with his nonsense. “How did you even get my number?”

He snorted and stood. My eyes tracked his every movement as he walked toward me. “Have you forgotten who, or rather, what, you’re dealing with?”

I guessed it was a stupid question. He could get to my apartment with a simple poof. Finding my phone number was probably nothing. Still, seeing him here after nearly a week of silence startled me. I wasn’t used to all this magic or whatever it was.

I realized then what his last text said, the one before the photo, and embarrassment coated my insides. I tucked some hair behind my ear and avoided looking at him as I asked, “Did you hear my phone call?”

“I did,” he answered without hesitation. “Your mom sounds like a real peach.”

Heat swept up my cheeks, and shame filled me to the brim. I felt like a little elementary school girl getting scolded by her Mom in front of a friend. It was mortifying, especially since she and I already had such a tedious relationship. He’d just gotten a small peek at a private conversation that I didn’t want anyone hearing, especially a stranger like him.

“Don’t pop in unannounced anymore,” I said finally, gathering the courage to meet his gaze once more. “Or hide in the shadows of my home like they’re your own personal viewing station.”

He shrugged. “Won’t make any promises.”

Of course he wouldn’t.

Even though I was irritated with his sudden presence, it came at a good time. I didn’t care if Mom wasn’t coming. I could still go see Gemma, and Zagan could tag along to give her another dose of his blood.

“Gemma is probably expecting me and Mom,” I said, looking over his black pants and button-up shirt. Desire suddenly swirled deep inside me, because he looked good in a button-up. I stomped that feeling down as I finished, “I’m sure she won’t mind if it’s you that shows up with me instead.”

He frowned. “Can I eat first?”

I held my head higher with my hands on my hips. “You’ve had all week to do that. If you were hungry, you should’ve come sooner. I’m not making Gemma wait just because you like starving yourself.”

His eyes widened at my defiance. “I’ve been in New York this week doing interviews and dance classes and work. I just got back.”

“Still your fault.”

He stared at me for a solid minute like I’d lost my mind before a smirk slowly formed on his pierced lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone sounds a bit upset that I didn’t come to eat. Feeling a wee bit neglected, Iyla? You miss having me between your legs already?”

It was my turn to look at him like he’d lost his mind. I was not bothered by his silence this past week, nor did I miss what we’d done.

At least, not too much.

But I’d never admit that to him.

Instead, I brushed past him and said, “Let’s go before your ego gets too big to fit inside my apartment.”

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