She’d taken a shower and dressed in his clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt about five sizes too big. Scrubbed clean, she picked at the crust of her sandwich and eyed him. He leaned against the counter, partially blocking a tangle of dirty cooking pots, bowls, and wooden spoons. All of them smelled of herbs, not of food. Spell-stirring? Did witches do that in real life just like in the movies?

He was lean, but thickly muscled. When she’d been showering, he’d changed into a pair a faded jeans and a tight long-sleeved black shirt that showed every ridge and valley to intimidating perfection. At the cuffs and neckline, black tribal tattoos writhed on his dark skin, stretching up his throat with power-filled tendrils. Sarafina could feel the pulse and beat of his magickal strength even across the room. As she watched him, he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her.

And that was his intention, of course—to bully her. If this man enjoyed anything in life—and Sarafina had her doubts on that score—it was menacing people.

“Eat,” he barked in a low voice.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?”

He rolled his eyes, leaned forward, grabbed one half of the sandwich, and took a bite. While he chewed and swallowed, he threw the bitten sandwich back onto the plate. Sarafina stared at it, lip curled.

“See? Not poisoned.” He growled. This man always growled. It was just a natural part of his voice.

Avoiding the contaminated half, she took a bite and closed her eyes. God, when a person hadn’t eaten for a day and a half PB&J tasted like just about the best thing in the whole world.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

Well, at least he’d turned somewhat talkative. He hadn’t said much at all since they’d walked the corridor. Once in the apartment, he’d mostly just shoved things at her and grunted.

“Grosset,” she answered around a mouthful.

“Why Grosset?”

She shrugged and took another bite. “That’s just his name. That’s what the Humane Society said it was.”

“He looks like a tribble.”

“He’s not a tribble, he’s a Pomeranian!”

“Whatever you say.” He grunted again and pushed off the counter. “I’m going to bed. Take the couch.”

“What if Grosset has to pee?”

Theo stopped in the doorway and spoke without turning around. “You’re not getting out of my place tonight, not for nothing.”

She sighed and shrugged a shoulder even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “Dogs have to pee. You can’t stop nature.” She paused. “You’re not very good with people, are you?”