The shower upstairs shut off, and Rack and I froze. My eyes dropped to the eggs in my hand, then to the stove.
Shit.
I hadn’t even started cooking.
“Fuck,” I breathed, already moving.
Cabinet doors banged open one after another as I searched. “How long does it even take to cook these?”
I yanked one open. Nothing. Another. Still nothing.
“Ha!” I grabbed a pan and slapped it onto the stove before turning the knob up to high. Two eggs in hand, I turned them over once, shrugged, then put them straight into the pan.
They cracked as soon as they landed, and a sharp sizzle filled the space.
I grinned.Easy.
“You’re an idiot.”
Rack was moving before I could respond, crossing the space in two strides. He grabbed the pan off the burner and dumped it straight into the trash.
“What the hell?—”
“You don’t leave the shells in,” he snapped, already reaching for a clean pan.
Shells? I stared at the trash. How the hell was I supposed to know that?
Ignoring me, Rack grabbed butter and dropped it into the pan. It melted with a soft hiss before he cracked the next eggs, clean and controlled, tossing the shells aside without a second glance.
I watched, armed folding as I leaned back. Apparently, eggs had rules.
A soft voice drifted down to us.
“What’s this?”
Our heads snapped up.
She lingered at the top of the stairs, damp strands of hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. My sweats hung loose on her hips, the waistband folded once to keep them from slipping, and the shirt swallowed her frame whole. The sleeves drooped past her elbows, stopping at her forearms, except for the gap where her tattoo peeked through. A trail of dark roses curved along her skin.
My gaze caught there. Fingers twitched at my side, the urge to trace each petal sharp enough to make me shift where I stood. A grin pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.
Then I noticed what she was holding in those small hands.
A remote-controlled, matte-black humvee. One of my old inventions—a deadly one.
Behind me, a sharp sound cut through the quiet. Teeth grinding, I didn’t even have to look to know Rack had seen it too.Shit!
In a blink, I was in front of her. She flinched but didn’t jump away, so that meant progress.
I reached out, carefully taking the device from her hands.
“One of my old builds,” I said, turning it over. “Thought it’d be fun to make a miniature strike unit.”
Her gaze stayed locked on it, curious.
I found myself explaining anyway. “This section here?” I pointed to the back. “Gas chamber. It releases a targeted hallucinogen. And up here,” I tapped the top, “magic-seeking missiles.”
Definitely not something a human should be casually holding.
