I was going over a mental list of tasks to accomplish when the seat across from me was pulled out. Wrath dropped into it, eyeing me warily. I stared back at him for a few moments. Neither of us said anything. It seemed like my almost-husband was giving me time to collect myself. Or maybe he was waiting for me to banish him back to the bone circle again.

I took a few deep breaths.

“How did you know where I was?” He gave me a long, measured look, then glanced pointedly at the tattoo on my arm. I was definitely going to kill him. “You said you could only find me if I accepted the blood trade. You never mentioned the tattoo.”

“If I told you the ink was part of a marriage bond, you would have immediately run. I needed you to have time to trust me.”

I went to argue, but shut my mouth. It was true. If I’d known what the tattoo meant the first night I’d summoned him, I would have sent him straight back to his realm. “Trust is usually earned because both parties are honest.”

“I have not lied to you.”

I loosened a breath. “Not technically, no.”

A waitress came out and cheerfully recited the menu. Wrath seemed skeptical, but let me do the ordering without complaint. Thirty minutes of strained silence later, she brought out our food. Wrath considered it as if it were a complicated equation he was sorting out.

One steaming plate of scampi, some arancini, a platter of antipasto—stacked with prosciutto, peperoncini, soppressata, provolone, marinated olives, and artichokes tossed with oil, vinegar, oregano, and basil—and a basket of grilled bread graced our little table.

I kept waiting for the demon to pull the waitress aside and ask for warmed blood or raw innards, but he seemed content with my choices and I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to put the idea of uncooked offal in his head.

Wrath did surprise me by ordering a pitcher of red wine with orange slices, and poured a generous amount for each of us. I sipped my wine, enjoying the sweetness of it despite myself. I wanted to escape from my dark thoughts for a while, and the dinner and wine were helping. I hadn’t slept all night and it felt good to just collect myself and regroup. Wrath piled a plate with food, and slid it in front of me before serving himself. It took all of my concentration to not topple out of my chair from the shock.

He caught my eye and scowled. “Good manners are hard to break, no matter how unpleasant the company I’m forced to keep. Plus, you served me the dessert. It’s only fair to return the favor.”

I smiled, which seemed to rankle him more, and tucked into my food.