I could’ve sworn the barista’s gaze never left me while he prepared our coffees. There was something unsettling in his movements, a predator's focus as he kept an eye on his prey—me. A chill began to creep up my spine, and I quickly averted my gaze, fearing the rising panic within me might overtake my mind. But as long as I could see Icarus standing just outside, my breathing began to slow, my anxiety subsiding.
“Oh, here comes our coffee!” Mireille chirped, spotting Rafe as he carried our cups.
He placed them on the table, barely acknowledging Mireille, though it seemed like I was the one who held his attention. The way Rafe looked at me was unnerving, his eyes alight with something feral, a spark akin to the one I’d seen in the barista’s golden gaze. I tried to avoid his intense stare,
