hanny’s Reviews > Tide of Treason > Status Update

“Wow. You absolute liar. You don’t need glasses.”
“Never said I did.”
“You let me ramble about optometry like a fucking idiot.”
“I like when you ramble.”
Oh, fuck me sideways with a rusty spoon. He liked hearing me talk? About my old occupation? No chance he was that pathetic. Unless he was a glutton for punishment, in which case he should’ve just asked for an eye exam instead.”

“What the hell is this?”
“An invitation.”
“To what? A career change? Because last I checked, I already had a job, and it’s not exactly in ophthalmic lens advancements.”
He smiled and tongued the inside of his cheek. “You talk about optometry like you still love it.”
My pulse did an irritated roll as the pieces slotted into place. The conversation in the kitchen. My question. His answer.

“See, Lucius, I don’t like you either. You’re reckless, arrogant, a walking RICO case.” Kayla stopped inches away. Shadow swallowed half her silhouette, leaving her split between light and dark. “But every time your name scars a headline, my pulse skips. That’s inconvenient. I prefer efficiency.”

Tasting Kayla for the first time was satisfaction, yes, but the sort that bred starvation rather than sated it.

Every bruise I’d ever earned felt worth it if it led to this split-second between heartbeats where hate blurred into craving and the rest of the world went dark.

“He has the same eyes.”
I kept my stare on the red ringlets. “What do you mean?”
“When you’re with him. You have the same eyes, Kay-Kay.”
I stopped brushing, and my gaze met hers. “What eyes, dolcezza?”
“Luci’s. They get all warm and pwetty.”
I smiled, although my heart was caught in a snare. “I’m sure it was just the lights.”

“You’re different to the others.”
“How so?”
“More.” That was it. Not enough syllables to hold the weight, but it was all I could manage.
“More how?” she pushed.
“Everything.” […] “Just . . . more. And I’m not even sure how much of that is a good thing.”
“None of me is a good thing, Lucius.”

Her parting words were soft, threaded in Italian like a lullaby soaked in arsenic.
“Ti ho visto prima che il mondo ti rovinasse.”