Page 15

He makes a sound. It’s brief. Rough. Almost a cough.

Except— No. Was that a laugh? I stare at him.

“Did you just laugh at me?”

“Certainly not.”

“You did.”

“I assure you⁠—”

“You laughed.”

His expression turns imperious. “I did no such thing.”

I point at him again.

“You’re a terrible liar, Rocky.”

“Gabriel.”

“Whatever.”

His eyes narrow.

I should probably be afraid of him.

He’s enormous. At least six and a half feet tall, with shoulders broad enough to block out half the sunset. He has the kind of face that belongs on the cover of a very expensive cologne advertisement. Like a young David Gandy.

And he was a literal monster five minutes ago. But there’s something about his irritation that’s oddly reassuring.

Like he’s more offended by my nickname than by the fact that he’s just undergone an impossible supernatural transformation.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s start over.”

He inclines his head. “A sensible suggestion.”

“I’m April.”

“I know.”

I freeze. “You know?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

He gives me a long look. “April.”

“What?”

“You’ve been speaking to me every day for a week.”

Oh. Right. Of course. I go cold and wince. “Oh, no.”

His expression shifts. “What?”

“Oh, no, no, no.”