If he weren’t such an obvious nutter, the guy would be seriously seductive. She laid the spatula down on the countertop with feigned casualness. “Look, I’ve had an awful day. I’m tired, and I want to finish my bread and go out for one little drink with my flatmate, who will be here any minute.” She paused. “And she’s huge, by the way, and lethal. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere better to be. I’m advising you to leave me alone. I can be a little… unpredictable when I’m irritated, and I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Unpredictable? Sounds exciting. But I’m afraid I cannot leave until I get your signature. For Emerazel. Then I’ll leave. Unless you want me to stay to attend to your other needs, of course.”

“I have no idea who Emerazel is. But if you’re here because you think I owe you something for helping me out at the club, that’s not going to happen. I don’t have anything. I can’t afford electricity. I can’t afford socks. My boyfriend just dumped me last week, and then fired me. So on top of all the other shit, I’m unemployed. I’m eating sodding bread and butter for dinner on my eighteenth birthday. So if you’re planning on robbing me, have a wonderful time. Take the spatula. Take my threadbare socks. Take the moldy shower curtain. Whatever you desire.” She could feel her cheeks burning as anger flooded her. “Then fuck right off.”

“I’m not here about the club, and I’m not here to rob you.”

“So what are you? Some sort of pervert?” Her body grew hot, her pulse quickening. Pure strength surged through her muscles, and she wanted to break something. If he thought he was going to get his hands on her, she would choke the life out of him.

He opened his palms, eyes widening, all innocence. “Ursula, you’re not listening. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here about that triangular mark you carved somewhere on yourself, the one that gives you the fire. You do understand the bargain you made, don’t you?”

My scar. So he did see me without my shirt on. There was no air left in the room. “You said you looked away.”

“I did. Emerazel sent me, and that’s how I know you have a scar. You owe her your signature. It’s fine. There’s nothing to panic about,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice a dangerous caress. “Everything will be fine, Ursula.”

She shook her head. Who was this Emerazel he kept talking about? She had no idea where the scar had come from, or what it meant. All she knew was that only stalkers and serial killers followed women home from work.