“So, there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you,” he says, drawing me back to the fully-clothed present and gesturing for me to take the chair across from him. “It might be a little personal, though.”
“Um. Okay?” A nervous giggle bubbles up, my insides going all fizzy.
I’m such a freaking bottom-feeder. Seriously. Two hours ago I was scaling a dangerous rock face, battling storms and dark mages and who knows what else. Now, a few words from Kirin reduce me to a puddle of insipid ridiculousness.
Not that I’m going to letthatstop me.
I perch on the edge of the chair, still hoping he can’t read minds.
“I’ve been wondering,” he says. “Is it cheating if the queen of leaves drinks coffee?”
The genuine earnestness in his question makes me laugh. “If I tell you something, you have to swear you won’t tell a soul.”
He draws an X over his heart, a gesture that only serves to underscore his complete adorableness and does absolutely nothing to cool the heat simmering in my core.
“I kind of have a thing for vanilla cinnamon lattes,” I confess. “The ones they make at Froth? Two pumps vanilla, one pump cinnamon, a dollop of extra foam, finished off with a drizzle of honey and two shakes of cinnamon.”
“Okay, that sounds like more than athing. You’re crossing into full-blown obsession territory. And I’m glad to hear that, because I was actually wondering if you might want to join me? I mean, for a coffee? Sometime?”
“But… but I just made your tea,” I blurt out.
Holy shit, is he asking me out? He’s asking me out. Code red! Code red!
“Right,” he says. “I meant some other time. This weekend, maybe? I just thought it might be fun to hang out. You know, outside of Kettle Black. We can talk about…” He picks up his novel, something with an old farmhouse on the cover. “…books! Or, you know, anything you like. What do you like? Other than tea, I mean. And rock climbing and biking—I know that much. Okay, I’m rambling. Save me, Stevie. Say something before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”
“Kirin, I… I don’t even know what to say.”
“How about yes?”
My heart is going crazy again, and I’m trying to focus on his eyes, on his words, on what all of this means, but a blur of white outside the window captures my attention.
I chance a quick glance.
The sight makes me gasp.
A huge owl hovers in front of the window, white with dark brown spots, its piercing gold eyes locked onto mine. The rain seems to part around him, as if he’s encased in a protective bubble. He flaps his great wings, watching me. Studying me.
“Are you seeing this?” I turn back toward Kirin, but he’s staring at something at the center of his table where his book used to be—something I’m certain wasn’t there thirty seconds ago.
The Tower card.
My blood turns to ice.
“Tell me that’s yours,” I say, even though I know it isn’t.
“You know I can’t,” he whispers.
Our eyes lock, intense in a way that has nothing to do with our innocent flirting. Suddenly it feels as if we’ve known each other for decades. Lifetimes. Eons.
Something is about to break.The message hits me hard and fast, a bolt of fear straight to the gut. Kirin feels it too. I know he does.
Outside, the owl takes flight, vanishing from view. A bolt of lightning splits the sky, the thunder immediate and fierce, so close it rattles the windows.
“Listen to me,” Kirin says, his face pale, his voice a ghostly whisper. “Do you have a back door? You and Jessa need to—”
There’s a commotion at the entrance, and three cops burst into the café, guns drawn.
“Starla Milan?” the lead cop barks at me. He raises his weapon, aiming right for my head.
