Page 50 of Spring L.A.W.
“I should warn you,” she murmured, “I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Neither do I,” he said, voice rough.
She raised an eyebrow. “Good. Because if we do this, it’s not just a fling.”
“Understood.”
“Also, I steal the covers and talk in my sleep.”
“I’m military. I don’t sleep.”
She laughed and then kissed him again, deeper this time.
Upstairs, the wards adjusted themselves to “do not disturb” mode.
14
Rayna shuffled into her kitchen wearing one of Major Payne’s stiff white undershirts and nothing else, except maybe a vague sense of satisfaction. Her hair looked like it had tried to mimic Medusa. The coffee machine was already gurgling to life, and Major Payne, now known as Adam after sleeping with him, was perched on a barstool.
He was reading the back of a cereal box like it contained classified intel.
“Didn’t take you for a granola man,” she said, reaching past him for a mug.
He didn’t look up. “Fiber is tactical. Keeps you regular in combat situations.”
Rayna snorted. “Well, it’s comforting to know if we get ambushed by demons mid-breakfast, you’ll be light on your feet.”
He smiled into his coffee. “I’ve faced worse mornings.”
She slid onto the stool next to him, curling one leg under her. “Alright, Adam. Since you stayed the night and didn’t spontaneously combust, let’s talk while I make pancakes. Where’d a guy like you come from?”
“Military brat. Grew up on bases. Alabama, mostly. My dad was a colonel. My mom ran logistics, and also the universe. I served two tours before the L.A.W. crossed my radar.”
Rayna lifted an eyebrow. “Wait, you’ve known about the League for a while?”
“I was the file liaison, verifying intel with Bas. Read everything there was on your team. Figured most of it was exaggerated until I saw a were-goat vaporized on Fifth Avenue.”
Rayna shrugged. “Tuesday.” Then she wiggled her fingers, and pancake batter appeared.
He leaned closer. “What about you? Always been the witch next door?”
“God no. Academia. Medieval literature professor. Did my thesis on feminist trickster figures. Got hexed in Wales, blew up a library, and landed myself in L.A.W. after an incident involving a cursed teacup and one very flammable dean.”
Payne gave her a look. “You’re telling me the woman who threw me into a wall last night used to teach Shakespeare?”
“Only the dirty parts.” She spooned batter onto the preheated grill.
They both grinned, and for a beat, it felt normal. Like the world wasn’t full of shadow-creatures and hipster alien baristas and whatever-the-hell that graffiti had summoned.
Then they heard the sound of a key in the lock.
Adam blinked. “You gave them keys?”
“Of course. They live here,” she muttered, just as Michaeland Daniel swung the door open, still wearing last night’s clothes and the smug glow of someone who hadn’t been bored in twelve hours.
Michael stopped cold in the doorway.
Daniel looked from Rayna’s borrowed shirt to the shirtless military man at her counter.
