Mr. Smith was waiting by the door when Cassandra let herself in. She gave him a small smile and waited patiently while he did his happy dance, giving him a reassuring pat.
He trotted after her as she walked to the kitchen to put out some food for him. She propped her hip against the counter as she watched him eat, trying not to think about the scene she’d walked away from next door.
Samael, sitting in the dark at his kitchen table, head in his hands, shoulders hunched.
It had taken every ounce of pride she possessed to make a gracious exit from his house. And then some.
Thank God he hadn’t been beside her when she woke up. She’d been so warm and sated and pleased with herself, there was no telling what she might have said.
That he was a wonderful lover, powerful and intuitive and gene
