Page 141 of Grave Beginnings

50

The light clinkingof dishes roused me sometime later. I stretched, opening my eyes, surprised to find the apartment brightened as the curtains were pulled open, though a set of blinds kept the daylight minimal. Angel moved around with a grace I admired.

How long had I slept?

I reached for my phone, expecting it to be midday Saturday, but it was almost five p.m. on Sunday. I sat up.

Angel paused in the kitchen, glancing my way.

“I slept a whole day?” I scrolled through my messages, having missed a bunch from Grandpa and Ivan—and Wade, Bobby, Victor, and Kerry. Since when had I become so popular?

“You needed the rest,” Angel said, returning to his task. My stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. “And I’m working on getting food ready for that.”

I put my hand over my stomach. “Down boy,” I lectured my gut.

“It’s been rumbling for a while,” Angel said. “I already talked to Ivan, and your grandpa. Xavier gave them my number whenyou didn’t answer. But I turned off the sound because you needed the rest.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be.” He crossed the room with a plate and a glass of milk, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, all those delicious tattoos on display. He stretched over me to put the glass on the side table, and the scent of sugar hit me.

“Holy shit, you made me cake,” I said.

“I promised I would. How’s your head?”

“A little fuzzy, but not pounding. Should we be having cake for dinner?”

“The best thing about being an adult is that we decide,” he said, and sliced a bite of cake off onto a fork and held it out to me. “I have no idea what your favorite cake is.”

“All cake. Any cake,” I promised.

The slice looked like something chocolate with white icing, and maybe caramel? I opened my mouth and let him set it on my tongue; a burst of sugar sweetness, and chocolate caramel flavor made me hum in approval.

“Better than sex cake, or whatever it’s called,” Angel said. The sticky sweetness was intense, with a layer of fudge added to the caramel. “Tiana’s recipe, not mine.” He took a bite for himself. “Usually, it’s a little too sweet for me, but after a lot of shifting, it really helps clear out the fog. I’ve got some steaks keeping warm in the oven, but after you’ve used as much magic as you have over the past week, I want your blood sugar to balance.”

“Oh? Maybe I should get one of those monitors if my magic is going to mess with it.”

He tapped the side of his nose. “I can tell.”

“Yeah? Do I smell strange?”

“You smell dehydrated, with low blood sugar and iron.”

“Thus, the cake and steak?”

“Yes,” he agreed as he fed me bites, sharing the slice with me as I sipped the milk between mouthfuls.

“Cake is good,” I assured him. “Though I’m not certain it’s better than sex.” Maybe better than some sex, but would it be better than sex with Angel? I recalled our moment in the changing room at the community center and our brief interlude in the shower. No, definitely not better than sex with Angel.

“Yeah?” he asked, swiping the last of the fudge caramel mix off the plate with his finger. He held the digit to my lips, smearing the sweetness across them.

I sighed, sinking into the sensation as need rose through me. He leaned in, capturing my mouth with his, tongue tracing my lips and darting inside to share the sugary flavor. I groaned into his mouth, cock hard and body desperate.

His lips left mine with a reluctant groan, the warmth of his breath lingering between us like an unspoken plea. “I should let you rest,” he murmured, though the roughness in his voice betrayed his desire to stay. His body leaned into mine, unwilling to sever the contact.

And I wasn’t ready to let him go.

I took the plate from him and set it aside, my fingers finding the heated skin at the back of his neck, tangling in the strands of his hair. He shuddered at my touch, a low sound escaping him as I pulled him back in with a hunger that left no room for doubt. Our lips crashed together, harder this time, teeth clashing, breath mingling in sharp, desperate gasps.