But he drank it because it made him feel normal.
I drank it because it took the edge off wanting to rip someone's throat out.
The car squealed into a nearby parking spot. I hit the alarm and made my way toward Starbucks.
People stared.
They couldn't help it.
Just like they couldn't help but ask for autographs, even though they had no idea who I was — just assumed, by my looks, that I was famous or about to be.
Years ago, it had been flattering — when I still possessed a heart and didn't think the world was going to come crashing down around me at any second. Years ago, I had been naïve.
No more.
Cassius was sitting outside, though it was drizzling. He was covered by the umbrella, sipping at his cappuccino and reading the freaking newspaper, like he didn't already know everything there was to know.
I dropped my keys onto the table loudly.
He didn't look up. "Got you a caramel-macchiato thing that tastes like hell. You're welcome."
Rolling my eyes, I took the cup into my hands and sat down, bringing the hot liquid to my mouth.
It was bitter.
It tasted nothing like her.
I couldn't even pretend that I was enjoying myself. Would nothing take the edge off?
"So…" Cassius set down the paper, and gazed at me from behind his sunglasses, which kept people from asking why the hell his eyes kept turning white. "That was clever of you."
"Vampires… we're known for it," I said in a dry tone, leaning back in my chair. "Besides, you owed me, and you know it."
"I saved your life." Cassius snorted. "I hardly think that puts me in your debt."
"You had no proof, no right, no—"
He held up his hand. "Enough. I don't wish to discuss the past."
He never did.
I cursed and took another sip of coffee. "What's done is done. Now we wait."
Cassius looked so out of place sitting in a small chair, appearing to fit in. His body was too large, his countenance too dangerous. He tilted his head as if listening to the wind. "Her scent is on you."
"Caught that, did you?"
"A hundred years."
"People really need to stop reminding me," I grumbled, no longer interested in my coffee or the conversation we were having. Why the hell I'd agreed to meet with someone I used to call brother was beyond me.
"You aren't as strong as I am, Ethan. You cannot hope to keep me from her, not when so much is at stake."
And there it was.
I hissed out a breath. "I'm afraid your hands are tied."
"Are they?"