can teach them?”
“Na, me? They do not want me to teach them. They hate me too.” He straightened, pushing away from the table with the air of someone planning to change the subject. “Drādah, I want to know.”
“Yes?” I asked cautiously.
“What”—he canted his head—“is abs?”
A blush burned through my cheeks. I’d really, really hoped he’d forget about Tori’s comments—except he never forgot anything. “Abs are abdominal muscles … the muscles in your stomach.”
He peered at his taut midriff. “How are muscles perfect?”
“Just ignore what Tori said.”
“But your face changed color when she said it.”
I abandoned my stool—which was much too close to his questioning gaze and perfect abdominals—and hastened over to the bookshelf. “Just forget about it, Zylas.”
Of course, he followed me. “What did she mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Are my abs better than a hh’ainun?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to put clothes on me?”
“No.”
“Why is your face changing color again?”
I grabbed a book about Arcana array calculations off a shelf. “I need to concentrate.”
A long pause. Tension kinked my spine as I waited.
Warm breath brushed over my ear as he leaned in. “Am I perfect, drādah?”
I choked. Ducking away from him, I rushed back to the worktable. Focusing with single-minded determination, I opened the book to its table of contents and tried desperately to remember what I was supposed to be researching.
Zylas’s quiet, husky laugh rolled through the room. Face flaming and teeth gritted, I cursed Tori and her big mouth.
Chapter Four
Bright light stabbed through my eyelids, dragging me from sleep. I drowsily opened my eyes to find sunlight streaming through my drapes. For a moment, I was annoyed that Zylas hadn’t closed them properly after returning from his nighttime wandering—then I realized. Sunlight. In January.
Flinging my blankets off, I scrambled out of bed. Cold air hit my bare arms and legs, my tank top and cotton shorts too thin for warmth, but I ignored the chill as I pulled the drapes away from the window. Blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds formed a cheerful backdrop behind the dreary buildings that surrounded my apartment.
Vancouver winters were mild, but in exchange for the lack of deep-freeze, its citizens had to endure a long season of perpetual overcast. Grinning, I hurried into the living room and threw open the heavy drapes that covered the balcony doors.
The morning sun hit me and I tilted my face into its golden light. Glorious. I couldn’t wait for summer. Reading outside, listening to the breeze in the trees, enjoying the scents of sweet summer flowers and fresh-cut grass …
My happy smile still in place, I turned around. In my rush to the window, I hadn’t noticed the room was already occupied.
Zylas was reclined across the sofa, head propped on a spare pillow. Our half-grown kitten, Socks, was lying on her back in the gap between his side and the sofa cushions, paws in the air and ears perked toward me.
The demon was watching me too, his limbs relaxed as if he were still napping, but there was no sign of drowsiness in his expression. His gaze moved across my face, intent, almost searching.
Searching for what?
My skin prickled, an odd nervous swoop in my gut. I hastily stepped away from the window—and my foot landed on something small and round.
The cat toy skidded across the carpet and took my foot with it. I hit the floor with a dull thud, my fall accompanied by the jingle of the plastic ball. Socks leaped off the sofa and streaked after the yellow toy, her black tail held high.
Stifling a groan, I sat up and rubbed my elbow.
Zylas folded his arms behind his head. “You were not even going backward this time, vayanin.”
A new insult. Great. “You should clean up after your cat.”
“My cat?”
I scowled at the kitten as she batted the toy into the kitchen. “She likes you the most.”
“Does that make her mine?” His tail flicked. “How much do you like me, vayanin?”
“Ha. Nice try.” I picked myself up off the floor. “What does vayanin mean?”
He smirked.
I crossed my arms. “You better not be calling me clumsy.”
His smirk widened, and I bit the inside of my cheek against a furious growl. He was totally calling me clumsy—or a demonic equivalent. I hoped this new nickname wouldn’t stick.
“How long have you been home?” I asked grumpily.
“Some hours. Before the sun came.” He yawned, flashing his sharp teeth. “Hh’ainun sleep too much.”
“Demons should sleep more.” His leisurely naps didn’t count—he always seemed aware of his surroundings. “Remember to close the drapes when you