He took the notepad from me and stared down at it. His fingers traced the scribble of my writing and finally, he smiled. “Yeah. I think it will be.”
His stomach growled, interrupting the moment, and I cursed myself for not realizing he was hungry. The poor guy was homeless. Who knew when he’d last eaten. Guilt gnawed at my insides as I left him sitting near the fire to go into the kitchen. I grabbed some fresh bread I’d bought today and contemplatedputting something on it but thought better of it. I didn’t know what his stomach could handle.
When I’d made my way back to him, he hadn’t moved from his spot, but his eyes were closed. I might’ve thought he’d fallen asleep sitting up if he hadn’t looked at me when I shifted closer. I passed him the bread and made a gesture to my own mouth.
His soft gaze made my chest clench around my heart.
“Thank you.”
I inclined my head.
Ezra ate a little too fast, but I didn’t comment. I was sure he knew what his body could tolerate, and if he vomited, then I’d be there to help.
I grabbed my notepad.
Going to shower. Be back soon. Then sleep.
He smiled when he read the words. “Okay.”
3
EZRA
Samael led me up the stairs. He presented a bedroom to me with a gesture of his hand, and I walked inside, taking in the large comfortable looking bed and dark wooden armoire against the farthest wall. Like his kitchen and family room, he didn’t have much furniture. The bed and armoire were the main pieces, with a small nightstand next to the right side of the bed with a phone charger sitting on it. The room itself was painted navy, the window near the bed hidden by thick curtains that kept the light out.
There weren’t any photos or many items I considered to be personal except an iPhone that sat in the charger. And possibly clothes in his armoire.
“Is this your bedroom?” I threw a grin over my shoulder at him.
He stood behind me, tall and hovering nervously like he expected me to tell him how ugly and boring it was. His curls were damp from the shower, some of them sticking to his forehead, and he’d trimmed his beard. His pajamas pants werestriped with two different blues and his t-shirt was white. Like I said, minimalist.
He nodded and pointed at me, then the bed.
“I can sleep there?”
His smile should have been manic, something that belonged to a bat-wielding killer who didn’t blink twice about beating someone’s head in. Instead, his curved lips left me breathless because the grin felt genuine and kind. I couldn’t remember the last time someone was nice to me. As a homeless man, I was nothing but the mud on someone’s shoe whenever they saw me. Not to Samael, though.
He nodded at me.
“Isn’t this your bed?”
Nod.
I frowned. “So, why are you letting me sleep in it?”
He wrote on that notepad again. It seemed like he carried it everywhere.
Why not?
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m a homeless guy.”
And I’m me.
I grinned. “So, this isn’t the first time you’ve killed then?”
His eyebrows darted up, and I wanted to laugh.
“Who do you kill?” I asked again, hopeful he’d give me answers.
