From one end of the apartment to the opposite, Ling paced the entire time Cao was gone. How long was he going to take? Dammit, but she hated him handling her private things.

Anxiety flushed her veins and she shook out her arms. He probably didn’t even have anything worth snooping in his safe house.

The front door creaked. She whirled around from the kitchen and tensed, but Cao strode inside, two bulging duffle bags strapped across his back.

Whew.

“Brought your things.” He sent her a nod and marched past her to the bedroom, thunking the bags onto the floor. “Everything’s in here. I, ah, hope.” He scratched the back of his neck, glanced her up and down, and stepped from the room.

She rushed to the bags and unzipped them, sifting through the contents. Yay. Clean clothes. Even if Cao had dug through her underwear drawer to bring them to her. She swallowed the embarrassment and closed the bedroom door before stripping and changing into a pair of her own leggings and a baggy sweater. Her glasses glinted at her from the top of the dresser, but what was the point? Cao had already spotted her natural eye color. Dammit. The silver hue was so unusual and memorable, Ling used the glasses to conceal it.

She didn’t wish to stand out. Not in any crowd or anyone’s mind.

Heh. He’d even packed her brush. She snapped it up and opened the door to stroll into the living room. Earthy scents of broth and vegetables drifted toward her. Her stomach rumbled in delight. Cao stood in the kitchen, cooking?

Hmm. At her presence, he pivoted and grinned. “Hungry?”

Starving, but she clamped her tongue and shrugged instead. This was her new life? Living with a hot guy she’d just met for who the hell knew how long. Awkward.

Not to mention, the rumors about this man were, well, frankly, bad. Cao Guojiu was a thief. Murderer. A dangerous criminal who’d sold out his brother to save himself.

Why should she trust him?

Ling settled on a barstool and ran the brush through her hair, wincing at the tangles. Ouch. As she pressed the bristles against the side of her head, she gasped in pain and dropped the brush. “Argh.”

“What’s wrong?” Cao dashed to her side while she clasped her head in her hands and grimaced at the burning sting radiating from the side of her scalp.

“Oooh, ouch.” He peered at her head. “That’s a deep cut. You must’ve hit your head during the explosion and the shock kept you from noticing until now. Wait here.” He jogged to a side cupboard, pulled out a red medical bag with a large white cross on it, and darted back to her. “Let me examine your wound.”

She reared from him. “It’s fine.”

He cocked one brow at her. “It might require stitches.”

“So I’ll go to a hospital,” she hissed, clutching the injury.

Ignoring her, he dug through his bag. “No need and we can’t risk that. Let me see it.”

“Why? You’re not a doctor.”

“Actually,” he winked, “I am.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I’ve trained in multiple disciplines, in different centuries, so I think I can handle a stitch or two.” His voice softened as she submitted, easing forward to let him to work. “Don’t worry. I’ll patch you up. Hold still.”

Hold still? Her heart beat wildly inside her chest, ramming against her ribcage, while Dr. Cao pulled a needle through her scalp. She didn’t even feel it, but that was likely due to the adrenaline more than his skills, right?

Who was this man?

She itched to scream her frustrations, but instead swallowed everything.

“All done,” he droned, and flashed a purple lollipop in front of her.

She glared at him, but snatched the lollipop, removed the wrapper, and stuck the candy inside her mouth.

“Let me check for signs of concussion, okay?”

Before she gave consent, he shone a flashlight at her eyes, asked her to follow his finger, and a bunch of other doctor-type stuff.

“Wow, they’re really silver, aren’t they,” he murmured, drawing her out of the trance he’d put her in.

“Silver? Huh? Oh, my eyes. Yes,” she agreed.

His honey scrutiny narrowed on her for an instant before he whipped around and stuffed his instruments into his medical bag. “You seem fine, but tell me if you experience any dizziness, headache, or disorientation.”

She snorted. “You mean, other than having my life flipped upside down?”

His shoulders shook with a laugh. “Yes, that.”

Cao stored his bag in the closet and returned to the kitchen, where he chopped various vegetables and married them to that incredible-scented broth.

It was so weird having him look after her. Even as a child, she’d been independent, from a young age caring for her grandmother. Ling knitted her brows. Da Xia hadn’t required any of her help, as much as Ling had enjoyed providing it.

Maybe, that had been the point.

* * *

Damn. Cao faced away from Ling while he sliced vegetables, but he couldn’t get the image of those silver pools out of his head. What was she? Certainly, not human. He almost hadn’t been able to concentrate on assessing her. For the first time since he’d been a student, his hand had been unsteady.

He forced his muscles to comply, slicing and chopping, mincing and dicing. Stirring the broth. Adding the noodles. He lost himself in the rhythm of it.

Until, finally, dinner was ready.

Ling perched on the stool, combing through locks which didn’t require untangling, while he ladled the noodle soup into two bowls.

He set one in front of her, the other across the island from her and took a seat.

She gazed at the soup, biting her lip.

“Let me guess. Not a ramen fan?” Shit. He should have asked before he’d made this.

“No, I love noodles.” But she stared at the bowl, her ruby lip between her teeth.

“Dig in.” He handed her a pair of chopsticks and cracked his own apart. “I swear, it’s not poisoned. See?” Demonstrating, he shoveled some of the noodles into his mouth.

She studied him, intently. “Are you sure you want me here,” she bleated.

Caught off guard, he leaned back. “Yeah, I do. Why do you ask?”

“You saw my place.” She lifted and dropped one shoulder. “We’re both used to living alone. You gotta admit, this is awkward.”

Noting the flush of pink blooming on her cheeks, he bunched his brows. “Sure, it is, but I don’t mind.” Reassurance might help. “I met M at your flat. No news on who bombed the store, though. I’m sure she’ll keep us updated. She seems to really care about you, and she asked me to keep you safe. I fully intend to do that.”

“Why?” Her piercing scrutiny rested on him.

“She offered me something in exchange,” he admitted. “Something I’ve striven my entire life to achieve.”

Curiosity flickered in her eyes. “What?”

“Not gonna be that easy, love.” He grinned and, bringing the bowl to his mouth, drank deeply of the broth. “Unless you’d like to share with me about the stone?”

She huffed at his prod and instead took a sip of the soup with her spoon. “This is yummy, thanks. Needs some spice though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Now, this was getting interesting. “You like a little heat?”

“I can handle hot.” She flashed him a smile, a challenge in her voice.

Intrigued, he jumped off his stool, collected several bottles and jars from the fridge, and set the hot sauces on the island between them. “Pick your poison, darlin’.”

One brow raised in mischief, Ling traced a finger across the labels, settling on a jar of sambal oelek. Wow.

Even more impressive, she didn’t hesitate to grab a spoon from the cubby on the island, unscrew the jar, and scoop a huge dollop of sambal right into the middle of her bowl.

“Really?” He arched both brows as she stirred in the red, seed-studded chili paste, then scooped another spoonful and swallowed it.

“Mmm.” Her eyes flashed at him and she didn’t even squirm at the heat.

Hell, this was his kind of game. Meeting her challenge, Cao took the same bottle and heaped an even bigger lump into his soup.

“Mmm.” He copied her moan, downing a good mouthful of the blazing broth.

“That all the heat you got, Immortal?” She pouted her sultry lips at him, and it wasn’t the chilies making various parts of him hot.

“You kidding? I started you off with the kiddie version.” Chest puffed, he went back to dig through his fridge again, producing this time a bottle of bright red chili oil. “Make this stuff myself.”

Beaming, she leaned forward, moistening her lips. “Can’t wait to try it.”

He had to stifle a groan at her eagerness. Damn, but there were a million other things he’d like her to try, too.

* * *

This was fun. Ling shoved down her uncertainty at enjoying dinner with Cao and concentrated instead on this moment. Who would have guessed? He had this playful side to him and, gods, were they flirting?

Or was it just her hearing the sexual undertones to everything they said.

She shook aside the errant musings and watched him squirt beads of the chili oil into each of their bowls. The spice stung her nostrils as the heat from the broth wafted toward her.

Meeting the challenge in his eyes, she spooned the broth, hot oil and all, into her mouth. Flames blazed through her mouth, making her eyes water, but damn, it was good.

Amazingly good.

Moisture beaded from his eyes, too, but he kept scooping, so she did, too. Suddenly, it was a race to see who poured more oil into their broth, and who downed it faster.

As the last spoonful sank into her mouth and the fires seared her throat, she set aside her spoon and reclined, fanning her mouth with her hand. “That was incredible. How did you learn to cook so well?”

Duh. The man was immortal. He had copious amounts of time on his hands.

“Ice cream?” he questioned, as though sensing the direction of her thoughts. Cao leapt off his stool and rummaged through the freezer, pulling out a container.

“Gods, yes, please,” she breathed, her mouth aflame.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he set a bowl of chocolate chip mint in front of her. She tensed and frowned at him.

“What? You want a different flavor?” He twisted toward the freezer.

“No, this is my favorite.” How in hell did he guess that?

“Best flavor there is, am I right?” He plopped onto the stool and seized a spoonful of the minty frozen stuff then nudged a spoon toward her. “Have some.”

Well, it was a popular flavor, right? Relaxing her shoulders, she scooped a spoonful into her mouth. The creamy custard melted on her tongue. Oh, sweet Jade Emperor. Her eyes shuttered and she moaned.

“Good, eh?”

She opened her eyes, and Cao grinned across the island from her.

“It’s like a marshmallow cloud.”

He chuckled. “Made it my mission to procure the best.”

“I guess you had the time to do that, too,” she murmured, stirring her spoon into the ice cream and mixing it together. As good as it was, she’d lost her appetite.

Uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Damn, she’d ruined the moment. She flicked her gaze to his, those honey depths hardened and closed off from their previous warmth. “Cao, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” He arched a brow. “To judge me before you knew me? To stick a dart in my damn eye?”

Oh, that poster. Heat stung her cheeks. “I have my reasons to distrust immortals.”

“I’m sure you do.” He shoved off his stool and collected his bowl, steering toward the sink to wash it. She noted his tense shoulders and struggled with her own emotions.

Despite today, she did have her reasons for disliking immortals. Like, really, damn good reasons. Screw Cao. One day didn’t make a difference. That much she ought to already know. Lesson learned and never to be repeated, remember? After rising, she stacked her dishes.

“Leave those. You should go to bed. Long day. I’ll clean up,” he mumbled over his shoulder, not looking in her direction.

“Couldn’t agree more. Thanks for dinner.” She spun and marched into the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

* * *

After a restless night, Cao hit the training gym hard the next morning. Fucking hard. Just like the floor he’d slept on. The weight in his chest. What a bloody mess he was in.

When Ling had let down her guard, things had been easy between them. Something had been right.

But then, she’d shut right back down again. It was a nasty reminder that while he’d spent centuries searching for redemption, forgive and forget wasn’t included in the deal.

He would never erase his past. Nothing he did would ever atone for the crimes he’d committed.

Had he wronged one of her ancestors? Yet, that wouldn’t explain why she lumped each of the Eight Immortals together into the same shitpile of contempt.

The worst part was, he liked Ling. A lot. More than he should. He pounded his fist into the punching bag and tossed his head.

Definitely more than he should.

Well, at least her intolerance kept this professional. A guardian and his ward.

The Matchmaker’s words had haunted his mind last night, chanting round and round. She’s so very special. Yeah, he could tell. There was something about Ling. A kind of mystical spark.

Hell, if he discerned what it was though.

Things were better this way. After all, once this was over, he had plans. Grand ones. Like learn a new trade. Fuck around for a bit. Move to a new city. Rinse and repeat. He scoffed and rammed his fist into the bag again.

The third step from the top creaked. He spun around and caught a glimpse of Ling as she glided into the training gym.

“Morning,” she whispered and strolled down the far wall, inspecting the décor.

“Morning.” He pounded his fists into the bag, dismissing her.

She sidled up beside him. “Can I join you?”

He paused and stilled the swinging bag, his perusal crossing her. A mistake. She wore tight black leggings and a black bra top, her toned midsection and a good amount of the rest of her smooth flesh bare. He swallowed hard and managed a nod. “Do you have any training?”

She lifted and dropped one shoulder, and sauntered from him, before dropping into a yoga pose, her fine ass in the air. “Some.”

Shoving down a groan, he concentrated on punching, pounding his fists until his breathing was so labored he had to take a break. He rotated and found Ling in a different pose, lying on the floor, head tipped backward, one foot resting on her forehead. Gods, she was flexible. He cleared his throat and shoved aside any images of bending her into whatever position he fancied.

Cao grabbed a towel from the side cabinet, swiped the sweat from his face and chest, and plopped onto the floor near her. Raising himself into a pushup, he elevated his outstretched legs off the floor entirely, balancing his weight on his arms.

“Impressive.” Ling whistled.

“Thanks,” he grunted, admiring while she slipped deeper into her pose and then flipped over, sinking to sit cross-legged. “You too,” he intoned.

She exhaled long and slow. “So, about the things you packed for me…”

Ah, this was why she was here.

“I’m missing my records. My data. Most of it was destroyed in the bombing, but I do keep backups. Can I use your computer? Call a friend?”

“A friend, or a boyfriend?” Bloody hell, why did he have to ask? He clenched his jaw and eased his body onto the floor, before shuffling to rest across from her.

“Just my friends.” She stiffened. “Why, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment,” he hedged, so as not to get into details about how the only female company he kept was with the women he fucked, and nothing more.

“My friends will be worried about me,” Ling pressed.

Of course. She would have people who cared about her. He was so used to being alone, he’d kind of forgotten other people weren’t.

“I can’t take the chance of any calls being traced to this place, but if you’d like, I can arrange a meeting with your friends tonight.”

Her expression brightened. “Thanks.”

“Part of the job.” He inclined his head at her and leapt to his feet, heading for the shower.