“Coffee.”
Pitch grunted. “What?”
“I need coffee, and we’re out.”
He rubbed his face, scratched the stubble on his cheek, and squinted at Lyra. “So go shop.”
“We’re going to have breakfast at that bakery.”
Pitch closed his eyes again. He was sticky from last night. The scent of three subs clung to him and he wrinkled his nose. None of them was his, and while he’d enjoyed them in the moment, their scents were all wrong now, and it made his skin crawl. “I need a shower.”
“I agree, but make it a quick one.”
Fifteen minutes later, Pitch winced as the sharp August sun pierced his eyes. “Oh, bollocks.”
Lyra huffed. “Coffee, this way.” She yanked him along. “I can smell it.”
Pitch pulled in a breath, but he couldn’t scent anything, and since he had a better sense of smell than Lyra, she w
