I stumble over one of the eager cats, and Kassam catches my arm. He sees the expression on my face and that dark brow goes up. "You look upset, my little light. What's wrong?"
"I kinda hate the effect you have on everyone," I grumble.
He nods. "Not to worry. You are the one I am using for my needs."
My jaw clenches. Is that what I am to the gods? Just the human version of a pocket pussy? A convenient receptacle for Kassam's lusts while he figures out how to get home? Now that I'm slightly less dazzled by him, I'm starting to realize what a raw deal I've been given. It's not in me to stew endlessly, though. If something isn't working for me, I bail out quickly…as evidenced by my long string of short-term relationships and all of the unfinished art projects scattered around my apartment.
And my three-page résumé.
And the fact that I changed my college major six times before dropping out.
But…whatever. That's beside the point. "You and I should probably talk about our situation."
He blinks at me, puzzled. "Why?"
"I'm feeling a little railroaded at the moment," I begin, twisting my quartz necklace. "Do you realize just how much this is messing up my life right now? With—"
I break off, because Kassam places a hand over my mouth to silence me. That slippery, coiling pleasure slides through me, coupled with outrage. What the hell does he think he's doing, shushing me? I push at his hand, irritated, but he wraps his other arm around my shoulders and hauls me against his chest, my back pressing against him.
"Shh," Kassam whispers. "Wait."
I go still, because the urge to obey him is always present. Not only that, but there's something in his voice that makes me worry. I move my lips against his fingers, indicating that I want to talk, but he keeps me pinned against his chest, cradled in front of him.
Kassam leans in, whispering in my ear. "Do you feel that?"
Feel? I wait, trying to see what it is that Kassam “feels” in the hall. Around me I see nothing but the plain halls of my apartment building, slightly dingy and a boring, corporate gray. There's a plastic ficus at the far end of the hall, by the elevator, just like normal, and the doors across the hall are all closed tight. My door is cracked open, a cat trotting out to meet us. Someone has mail stuck to the clip outside their door, but other than that, everything looks normal.
I don't see anything. I'm tempted to bite his hand, but he makes a low sound in his throat that pauses me.
And…then I feel it.
The small hairs on my arms rise. The air feels charged, heavy like it does before a storm. Not quite the same as when Lachesis was in the bar, that subtle attraction that told me to go to her, but something else. It's strong and potent and not quite human, like someone poured pure energy into my building.
It's coming directly from my apartment, too. Whoever—whatever—is waiting there wants us to know that they're there.
I'm frightened. I clutch at Kassam's hand. "What is that?" I mumble against his fingers.
His mouth brushes against my ear as he whispers. "Whoever is following us found you. Are you ready to fight?"
Fight?
Is he serious? I don't want to fight. I want to go home, push a few cats off the bed, eat the rest of the donuts, and gripe that he's treating me like a thing and not like a person. All of that doesn't matter right now, though. Not when there's some sort of strong, worrying entity in my apartment waiting for us.
Lurking.
I shake my head and his hand moves away from my mouth. "I don't want to fight," I whisper. "Do we have another option?"
"Run?"
I nod. Yeah, I like that one. "Running's good," I hiss. I grab his hand and turn around, racing for the fire escape stairs. He goes with me, our bare feet padding down the metal stairs as we go down several flights toward the street. I race out of the front of the building, and I keep racing without stopping until we get to the corner store at the end of the street, the twenty-four-hour one with a few gas pumps, a Slurpee machine, and bright, bright lights in the parking lot.
For some reason, those lights feel like safety. Having people around feels like safety.
I step inside the electronic doors, my toes curling on the mat near the entrance. The middle-aged woman behind the counter frowns at me as I walk forward, but her expression melts into one of adoration the moment she catches sight of Kassam.
Behind me, Kassam breathes deep, inhaling the scents. "What is this fascinating place?"
Fascinating? I look over at him and he's got that hedonism look in his eyes. Maybe it's the scent of the hotdogs on the world's oldest grilling machine, or the bright colors of the snack foods, but I can see how this is exciting to him. He picks up a plastic package of pink frosted cakes and sniffs it. "This is a corner store," I say, watching the cashier. "People get food and gas here." I pat my pockets, but I already know they're empty. "We don't have any money, though."