House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,189

of insanity on the roof, when his mouth had been on her neck and she’d started to completely unravel.

How good it had felt—he had felt.

Hunt stared her down for a long moment. Heat rose to her face.

But all he said was “I’ll see you at home.” The word echoed between them as he set another purple tonic on the counter. “Drink that one in thirty minutes.”

Then he was gone, prowling through the empty bar and onto the street beyond.

Hunt had just settled onto the couch to watch the sunball game when Bryce walked into the apartment, two bags of groceries in her hands. About fucking time.

Syrinx flung himself off the couch and bounded to her, rising onto his back legs to demand kisses. She obliged him, ruffling his golden fur before looking up at where Hunt sat on the couch. He just sipped from his beer and gave her a terse nod.

She nodded back, not quite meeting his eyes, and strode for the kitchen. The limp was better, but not wholly gone.

He’d sent Naomi to monitor the street outside that fancy whiskey bar while he hit the gym to work off his temper.

Manhandled. The word had lingered. Along with the truth: he hadn’t thought about Shahar for a second while they’d been on the roof. Or in the days following. And when he’d had his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower that night, and every night since, it hadn’t been the Archangel he’d thought of. Not even close.

Quinlan had to know that. She had to know what wound she’d hit.

So the options had been to yell at her, or to exercise. He’d picked the latter.

That had been two hours ago. He’d cleaned up all the obsidian salt, walked and fed Syrinx, and then sat on the couch to wait.

Bryce set her bags onto the counter, Syrinx lingering at her feet to inspect every purchase. In between plays, Hunt stole glances at what she unpacked. Vegetables, fruits, meat, oat milk, cow’s milk, rice, a loaf of brown bread—

“Are we having company?” he asked.

She yanked out a skillet and plunked it on the burner. “I figured I’d make a late dinner.”

Her back was stiff, her shoulders straight. He might have thought she was pissed, but the fact that she was making dinner for them suggested otherwise. “Is it wise to cook when you’ve been pounding whiskey?”

She shot him a glare over a shoulder. “I’m trying to do something nice, and you’re not making it easy.”

Hunt held up his hands. “All right. Sorry.”

She went back to the stove, adjusted the heat, and opened a package of some sort of ground meat. “I wasn’t pounding whiskey,” she said. “I left Lethe soon after you did.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Out to a storage unit near Moonwood.” She began gathering spices. “I stashed a lot of Danika’s stuff there. Sabine was going to chuck it, but I took it before she did.” She dumped some ground meat in the skillet and gestured to a third bag she’d left by the door. “I just wanted to make sure there was no hint of the Horn there, anything I might not have noticed at the time. And to grab some of Danika’s clothes—ones that were in my bedroom that night that Evidence didn’t take. I know they already have clothes from before, but I thought … Maybe there’s something on these, too.”

Hunt opened his mouth to say something—what, exactly, he didn’t know—but Bryce went on. “After that, I went to the market. Since condiments aren’t food, apparently.”

Hunt brought his beer with him as he padded to the kitchen. “Want help?”

“No. This is an apology meal. Go watch your game.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I acted like an asshole. Let me cook something for you to make up for it.”

“Based on how much chili powder you just dumped into that pan, I’m not sure I want to accept this particular apology.”

“Fuck, I forgot to add the cumin!” She whirled toward the skillet, turning down the heat and adding the spice, stirring it into what smelled like ground turkey. She sighed. “I’m a mess.”

He waited, letting her gather her words.

She began cutting an onion, her motions easy and smooth.

“Honestly, I was a bit of a mess before what happened to Danika, and …” She sliced the onion into neat rings. “It didn’t get any better.”

“Why were you a mess before she died?”

Bryce slid the onion into the skillet. “I’m a half-human with a near-useless college degree. All my friends were going