Eve POV
The morning light slanted across my living room, catching the glossy black fur of my cat-slash-familiar-slash-perpetual source of irritation. Salem was perched like a little shadow statue on the armrest of the couch, his golden eyes following me with that infuriating calm of his.
I ignored him.
Mostly.
Okay, maybe not, because it's hard to ignore a talking cat who knows more about curses, blood, and vampires than your average university library. But after this morning's little showdown, where he'd looked me dead in the face and refused to tell me what he was hiding about Lucius, he was officially on my Do Not Engage list.
Mornings were supposed to be about peace, coffee, and pretending life wasn't falling apart. Mine? Mine was about fighting with a cat.
Not just any cat. My cat. A sleek, black, golden-eyed know-it-all named Salem who not only judged my every life choice with a disdainful flick of his tail but also talked.
