I went to the kitchen, touching my fingers against my tabletop altar along the way. I smelled the white sage, resting in its bed of abalone shell, and looked up at the painting of Jacob wrestling with the angel. I switched on the light over the stove and pulled the bottle of Jack Daniel's from the cupboard, pouring two fingers of it into a heavy-bottomed glass. When I closed the cupboard door again, I did not flinch when I saw Yaz's reflection in its glass panel, staring at me from his spot in the kitchen doorway.

"Do you want some?" I asked, retrieving the bottle and another glass before he replied.

"It's my favorite," he said, his mouth twisted into a half-smile.

I resisted the urge to say, "I know," and handed him a glass. His smile turned full as he drank.

I slugged mine, set the glass down, and arched my neck, feeling the heat spread down my throat to my belly. Yaz wrapped one arm around my waist and pressed his mouth to my throat, sucking softly. The bristle of his whiskers shocked my skin awake, the touch of his tongue slick on my skin. I moaned and brought his other hand to my thigh, pushing up the hem of my skirt.