Page 58 of Obsession

“Then it’s a good thing your scythe is still missing,” I smartly reply.

“Go make yourself presentable if I’m to be seen in public with you. Go on, now.” He claps his hands together.

After peeling myself off the couch and a taking a quick shower, I give my wet hair a side braid, slap on some lip gloss, and throw on a black T-shirt dress to match my black mood.

“That’s your idea of presentable?” he asks under his breath. Ignoring his commentary, I take his hand, and we’re now standing in an alley.

We walk until Azrael stops abruptly in front of a local burger joint. “Not my first choice, but I’m not sure we’d be seated in a finer dining establishment with this whole goth look you’re attempting.”

“Fine by me.”

He narrows his eyes. “Your lack of witty comebacks is concerning.”

We have the run of the place, and I choose a small table near the back. Our server appears and we order a beer. “I’ll need a minute to look at the menu, thank you, darlin’,” Azrael says.

“You might as well concede defeat. A true southern accent is hard to mimic.”

He whistles. “Boy, you’re in a pissy mood.”

I scan the restaurant and see a familiar face at the bar. You’ve gotta be kidding me. Chris is seated alone on a barstool, drinking a beer.

We lock eyes, and he gets up and swaggers over, looking put out at having to do so. Chris always looks put out, though, so I don’t take it too personal. He always looks hot as hell too, if I’m being honest. He’s taken his suit jacket off, and is wearing black slacks and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Good, our outfits and our moods match.

“Aubry,” Chris says without inflection.

“And who might this tasty morsel be?” Azrael purrs, ogling Chris.

“Angel, if you want to keep your wings, don’t ever call me tasty morsel again,” Chris says in a rather menacing tone, crossing his arms.

“Azrael is the new Angel of Death for the Memphis area. Chris is the Dominions Angel for the Memphis area,” I make the introductions. “Please don’t make good on that threat,” I beg Chris. “Fried angel wings aren’t on the menu.”

“Your lack of witty comebacks is still concerning,” Azrael deadpans.

“Glad to see you keeping better company,” Chris tells me.

“Haven’t you heard the big news? Aubry and her Cambion are on the outs,” Azrael stage-whispers.

Chris’s eyes never leave mine. Finally, he says, “You’re too good for him, anyway.”

I about fall out of my chair onto the grease-spattered linoleum floor. “I’m sorry, was that a compliment?” I sputter.

Azrael’s phone chimes and he looks at the message. “Vivian needs a pinch hitter at poker. Aubry, you don’t mind dining with your friend, do you?” I give Azrael the stink eye. He and Grandma, a meddling match made in heaven.

“Aubry, we’ll catch up later. And you,” Azrael says, turning to Chris. “I hope to see more of you in the future.”

“Can’t say the feeling’s mutual, angel,” Chris says coolly.

Azrael not so subtly checks out Chris’s ass as he strolls out of the restaurant.

The server appears, eyeing Chris nervously. “Sit down,” I tell him. Turning to the server, I say, “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, and another beer. Chris?”

“I’ll have the same,” he says, taking a seat. When our server leaves, Chris levels his unnerving stare at me.

“The signature Chris Sullivan look, causing lesser mortals to confess their deepest and darkest secrets since before recorded time,” I joke, taking a sip of beer, mentally shielding my mind just to play it safe.

“How long has Azrael’s scythe been missing?”

I about spit out my beer in his face. “How the hell do you know about that?”

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