DARK SOULS (Dark Souls Series) by Ketley Allison

wasn’t being received well, and I pressed a hand against my stomach as it growled. It felt like a cluster of balloons were blown up inside me before being popped, one by one, puncturing my stomach with each tear.  I took slow breaths, leaning my hands against the row of lockers and mentally pep-talking myself to get through today. Supernatural sickness or not, I still had rent to pay.
    The now-familiar zing told me he was in the room before I fully ascended the stairs back into the café. Slowly, reluctantly, I pushed through the door as my eyes were pulled in his direction. He looked much the same as I remembered, except even better in daylight. His hair was slightly longer in the front, grazing the tops of his ears. I could tell he had already run his hands through it a few times this morning. His lips were as I remembered, pink and sculpted and perfect, and I had to force myself to look away as he headed over to Macy.
    He raised his eyes and looked straight at me as he took his seat. This time I was ready for it, and didn’t flinch. Neither did he. Pure silver greeted me again. I had never seen eyes like that on a person before. They were mesmerizing.
    He cocked a small smile at me. I blushed, realizing that I was probably staring at him for too long yet again. I busied myself with tying the back of my apron and pretended to be immersed in the orders of lattes and cappuccinos as Andrea skulked around me. Thankfully, she seemed back to normal, her teeth as white as if she dipped them in bleach, no rotting incisors in sight. I stayed a good distance away from her anyway, remembering Rob, remembering me.
    “Hey you,” I heard Macy say to Asher in greeting. “Remember me? I was the one at the party, flying doors off hinges looking for my errant friend over there.”
    I rolled my eyes, though I kept them trained on the next person ordering. Macy’s tactics, though admirable, were not going to bait me this time.
    “Yeah, of course. Glad you found her.”
    His voice was like sugared butter, and I clenched my jaw at the sound, turning the milk steamer on extra loud. Sugared butter laced with razorblades , I reminded myself. My body was still twanging as if barbed wire was scraping against my skin every time I moved. Coupled with my clenching stomach, I wasn’t doing too well this morning, I wiped my brow with the back of my wrist as I bent down to grab soy milk.
    “You remember Emily?”
    “I do.”
    I would not look up. Nope, I couldn’t hear them. My stomach rumbled in painful agreement.
    I felt him come over, his movements cautious as he weaved through the morning crowd, taking his place in line. I felt his study of me like a slow burn as I continued to pour cups of espresso like he wasn’t there.
    Don’t look up. Do not do it.
    Damn it, I looked up.
    “Hi,” he said, looking at me over the espresso machine. “I wanted to say, I’m sorry about the other night.”
    “Oh. Really?” I cleared my throat as I wiped off the milk steamer with a towel, not because I needed to but because I really needed an excuse to pull my stupid self together.
    “Yeah, I think I came off as…abrupt.” He shrugged, his leather jacket tight against his broad shoulders. I forced myself to glance only at his face as I continued to work the coffee machine like a pro. Coffee beans, cup, press button, steam. I said the words like a mantra in my head. I would not look at his neck. I would not.
    His words hung in the air awkwardly, with Macy’s face darkening ominously behind it. I really hated to be rude, especially when he was trying to be nice.
    I relented, just a little. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. If anything, I should be the sorry one, running off like that. It was kinda rude.”
    I turned around to grab the blender as Andrea called out a frappe order, all too aware of Asher’s continued gaze on me and the increased prickling over my body the closer I got to him.
    “So, redo?” He asked, smiling as he held