Empire of Ash: A Passionate Paranormal Romance with Young Adult Appeal (God of Secrets Book 1)

my absolute favorite café, partly because it’s within walking distance, partly because their baklava is to die for. “You’ve eaten there?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know about it?”
The two locks on the door release, and it opens of its own accord. I open my mouth as I look between it and him.
“Let’s go.” He directs with an open palm.
The three flickering lights in the parking lot reveal rain coming down at an angle. Great. I throw up my hood as I cross the threshold. Crazy Guy follows, but when I turn around with key in hand, he assures me it’s already locked.
I bite my lip, unsure what to make of him. Screw this. No way am I relying on the word of Crazy Guy when it comes to my safety. I push him aside and jiggle the handle. Locked.
“Satisfied?” He smirks.
“A girl can never be too careful.”
His smirk becomes a grin. “Shall we?” He nods toward the parking lot.
I give him a long look.
My uncertainty only grows as I take several steps, because neither precipitation nor wind touch either of us. In fact, it feels as though we walk in a warm cocoon.
I stop.
“Who are you?” A mixture of awe and fear fill my voice.
“As I’ve told you, I am just someone with gifts you’ve never experienced.”
“And that’s supposed to explain everything.”
“I think so. Now come.” He grabs my hand and starts off again.
I have no choice with his grip holding me captive, so I follow. I hadn’t noticed before what with my mind occupied with my world being turned upside down, but his hand is warm, strong, and firm. Are his nails flawlessly manicured? In the dark, I can’t see, but he’s no pretty boy. No, he’s dangerous, wild, and untamed. What do the hands of a sexy guy like that look like?
The second the thoughts register, I tug my hand free earning a wink.
My cheeks warm again. Damn them. What is wrong with me? At least we’re outside with only flickering lights. Hopefully it’ll conceal their treachery.
I’m never so glad when after walking nearly two blocks, noise spills out of the café through the open door as a patron leaves.
“This is it.” I motion.
Crazy Guy proves chivalrous, opening the door for me. I give him a point for that.
The strong smell of meat, greens, olives, fish, and seafood tickle my nose as hearty laughter ripples across the probably twenty or so wood tables, as we stop at the lime-green hostess desk.
Greeks are known for enjoying their food and spending hours after their meal talking and having a great time, creating a relaxed and jolly atmosphere. Tonight is no different from every other time I’ve been to Atitamos’s, this quaint family-owned café. As usual, it’s packed.
“Pell!” Calix, the owner’s son, calls in Greek over the din, animatedly waving for me to come.
“They know you,” Crazy Guy says, shifting to Greek and smiling as he extends a hand.
I raise an eyebrow. I picked up Greek over the course of working on this dig, but he’s multilingual.
I wind my way through the maze of tables to a table-for-two by the window.
“Perfect timing, Pell. I just reset this,” Calix says as he pulls out a chair for me. “And you brought a guest. How wonderful. Welcome, sir.” He and Crazy Guy exchange nods, and then he hands us menus before continuing, “Helene will be your server tonight. Enjoy!” He waves as he walks off.
“You must frequent this place.”
I snicker. “You could say that. I love their baklava. Best I’ve ever had.”
“You’re an aficionado?” Crazy Guy grins.
I scrunch my face. “You might say that.”
He chuckles.
Helene, a young, bouncy ball of Greek goodwill, winks when she spots Crazy Guy from behind as she approaches, and I shuffle my feet under the table.
“Why, Pell, you must be hungry tonight. You picked up soup earlier,” she says, stopping and pulling out a pad from her apron.
I glance at Crazy Guy, as a corner of his mouth rises.
“Long story, but I’m afraid my soup faced an untimely demise before I could finish it. The part I ate was delicious though.”
“Oh dear, well, we’ll take care of you. What’ll you have?” She grabs a pencil from above her ear.
“Do you know what you want?” I ask Crazy Guy.
“Why don’t you order for me, sounds like you know what’s good.”
I nod, then look up. “We’ll split an order of spanakopita, and another of moussaka, and let’s have dolmades, too.”
“I presume you’ll finish with baklava? Pistachio, walnut, or honey?” Helene asks, grinning.
“You know me too well, but let’s get a sampler.” I smile.
Helene bursts out laughing. “Anything to drink?”
“Two Mythos beers, please.”
She finishes scribbling her notes and leaves.
Crazy Guy leans forward. “So what will I be enjoying?”
“Spanakopita is spinach pie. Moussaka is made with potato, eggplant, and ground meat. And dolmades are stuffed grape leaves with a rice mixture inside.”
“Sounds like it’s a good thing I made you spill your soup.” Crazy Guy chuckles.
I smile as I pick up a coaster and start playing with it. He’s dangerous, wild, and untamed, I remind myself.
As if on cue, he locks eyes with me, and switching back to English, says, “So back to our earlier conversation about that sphinx.”

Chapter Nine
My insides tense.
Still leaning forward, Crazy Guy moves his plate and utensils aside, then looks into my eyes as he lays his hands flat on the table; his rings click as they kiss the wood. A table-for-two has never felt so small.
“Pell, unless I miss my guess, that sphinx is halfway to its destination.”
I’m glad no one around us can understand our conversation. “Destination? What are you talking about?”
“Beings who are