Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

But as I stalked back into my bathroom to see if the water had reheated enough to grab a quick shower, I had a sneaking suspicion that lasting even one day without feeling his touch was going to be a whole lot harder than I might wish.

Jak called as I was preparing my breakfast. I slid the huge pile of eggs and bacon onto the plate, then grabbed my coffee and walked over to the dining table. After pressing the vid-button, I propped the phone up against the vase of roses in the middle of the table, and sat down.

“You’re just eating breakfast?” Jak said, by way of greeting as his dark features popped onto the phone’s screen. “It’s four in the afternoon—it’s closer to dinner than breakfast.”

“I worked late at the café last night.” And I’d fallen back into bed after my second shower, catching another three hours of much-needed sleep.

“So why not prepare dinner?”

“Because I felt like bacon and eggs.” I dove into my meal as I spoke. Jak had seen the best and worst of me during our time together, and I saw no reason for politeness now. “I gather you’re not phoning to discuss my breakfast times.”

“You gathered right.”

I looked up and saw that laughter crinkled the corners of his ebony eyes. And I was reminded of the times we’d shared similar late-afternoon breakfasts, of the fun, and the loving that had followed.

I tore my gaze away from the screen and tried to concentrate on eating. Those times were gone. Remembering them would do nothing more than remind me just how empty my current love life was. Sex—no matter how fantastic—could never replace the intimacy of a real relationship. Not long term. And ultimately, that was what I really wanted.

Of course, that was exactly what I wasn’t going to get from Lucian, or even Azriel. Although I guess Azriel did appear to have the capacity for emotions, which made him one step up the ladder from Lucian, but still not a great option. Hell, as much as part of me still hungered for what Jak and I had shared, he wasn’t Mr. Long Term, either, no matter what I might have thought or how much I’d loved him when we’d been an item. He was married to his work, and everything and everyone else came second to that.

“Then tell me what you want.”

“Risa,” he chided softly, “you know I don’t like talking over the phone. One never knows just who is listening in.”

“Nice to see you’re still paranoid about people stealing your scoops,” I said. “Although I’d like to know when that has ever happened.”

“Actually, it happened several months ago. You remember that piece the Age ran on the rat gangs running the old sewers?”

I scooped up several pieces of bacon and munched on them contemplatively, then eventually said, “No.”

He snorted. “Nice to see you’re still keeping up with world events.”

“Hey, I don’t get enough spare time these days to waste it reading newspapers.” Especially since he was often featured in my favorite one.

“Well, take it from me, that scoop was mine—and the bastard only got it half right.”

“Well, I doubt the half-right bit would have annoyed you too much.”

“Sweetheart, you really need to get over this whole resentment thing and move on.”

I did my best to ignore the ache that washed through me at his use of the endearment. “I have. I’m just having a little trouble resisting the urge to needle. Where do you want to meet, and when?”

He shifted position, and I recognized the lighthouse print behind him. He was home rather than at work. “Look, this story you’ve handed me is a little tricky given not only the Directorate’s involvement but a definite unwillingness on the street to discuss the buy-up. I think it would be better if we appear to meet accidentally rather than on purpose. Might be safer for us both.”

Alarm swam through me. “Meaning you’ve been threatened?”

“Not in so many words, but I got the distinct impression it might be better to leave this one alone.” He laughed, and his face came alive. “Which of course only stirred my curiosity all the more.”

I snorted softly. He hadn’t changed, not one little bit. “So where do you want to meet? And don’t say the Blue Moon because I don’t go there anymore, and I’m certainly not dancing with you.”

“Ah, Risa, that’s such a shame.” His voice was almost wistful. “We were so good together.”

“We were being the correct phrase there.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged lightly. “What about Chrome? Do you and that gang of yours still hang out there?”

Chrome was a trendy bar in Brunswick that Ilianna, Tao, and I had all but lived in as university students. The booze was cheap, the atmosphere fantastic, and on a Friday night, it was still the only place in that area to be seen. “Yeah, once or twice a month, just for old times’ sake.”

“Good. Shall we say seven?”