Bryce gave Hunt Athalar a dazzling smile and slashed the heavy curtains shut.
Syrinx yowled as he was caught in them, reversing his stout little body out of the folds. His tail lashed from side to side, and she braced her hands on her hips. “You were enjoying the sight?”
Syrinx showed all his pointy teeth as he let out another yowl, trotted to the couch, and threw himself onto the warmed cushions where she’d been sitting. The portrait of despair.
A moment later, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Right as her show began.
She didn’t know the number, but she wasn’t at all surprised when she picked up, plopping down onto the cushions, and Hunt growled, “Open the curtains. I want to watch the show.”
She propped both bare feet on the table. “I didn’t know angels deigned to watch trash TV.”
“I’d rather watch the sunball game that’s on right now, but I’ll take what I can get.”
The idea of the Umbra Mortis watching a dating competition was laughable enough that Bryce hit pause on the live show. At least she could now speed through commercials. “What are you doing on that roof, Athalar?”
“What I was ordered to do.”
Gods spare her. “Protecting me doesn’t entitle you to invade my privacy.” She could admit to the wisdom in letting him guard her, but she didn’t have to yield all sense of boundaries.
“Other people would disagree.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “I’ve got my orders. I can’t disobey them.”
Her stomach tightened. No, Hunt Athalar certainly could not disobey his orders.
No slave could, whether Vanir or human. So she instead asked, “And how, exactly, did you get this number?”
“It’s in your file.”
She tapped her foot on the table. “Did you pay Prince Ruhn a visit?” She would have handed over a gold mark to watch her brother go head-to-head with Micah’s personal assassin.
Hunt grunted, “Isaiah did.” She smiled. “It was standard protocol.”
“So even after your boss tasked me with finding this murderer, you felt the need to look into whether my alibi checked out?”
“I didn’t write the fucking rules, Quinlan.”
“Hmm.”
“Open the curtains.”
“No, thank you.”
“Or you could invite me in and make my job easier.”
“Definitely no.”
“Why?”
“Because you can do your job just as well from that roof.”
Hunt’s chuckle skittered along her bones. “We’ve been ordered to get to the bottom of these murders. So I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but we’re about to get real up close and personal.”
The way he said sweetheart—full of demeaning, condescending swagger—made her grind her teeth.
Bryce rose, padding to the floor-to-ceiling window under Syrinx’s careful watch, and tugged the curtains back enough to see the angel standing on the opposite roof, phone to his ear, gray wings slightly flared, as if balancing against the wind. “I’m sure you get off on the whole protector-of-damsels thing, but I was asked to head this case. You’re the backup.”
Even from across the street, she could see him roll his eyes. “Can we skip this pecking-order bullshit?”
Syrinx nudged at her calves, then shoved his face past her legs to peer at the angel.
“What is that pet of yours?”
“He’s a chimera.”
“Looks expensive.”
“He was.”
“Your apartment looks pretty damn expensive, too. That sorceress must pay you well.”
“She does.” Truth and lie.
His wings flared. “You have my number now. Call it if something goes wrong, or feels wrong, or if you need anything.”
“Like a pizza?”
She clearly saw the middle finger Hunt lifted above his head. Shadow of Death, indeed.
Bryce purred, “You would make a good delivery boy with those wings.” Angels in Lunathion never stooped to such work, though. Ever.
“Keep the damn curtains open, Quinlan.” He hung up.
She just gave him a mocking wave. And shut the curtains entirely.
Her phone buzzed with a message just as she plopped down again.
Do you have enchantments guarding your apartment?
She rolled her eyes, typing back, Do I look stupid?
Hunt fired back, Some shit is going down in this city and you’ve been gifted with grade A protection against it—yet you’re busting my balls about boundaries. I think that’s answer enough regarding your intelligence.