Page 23 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

I nod toward a section in the far back corner of the tavern, sectioned off by thick velvet and gold ropes, two guards posted before a door that shimmers with golden light.

Zev nudges me forward with a strong hand on my back, guiding me through the crowd. I take a breath and pretend he’s doing this in a protective way, like he cares about getting me through the throngs of creatures safely, not because he’s protecting his possession. Sometimes, it’s more fun to pretend than deal with reality, and I’m definitely not in the mood for reality tonight.

Jagger walks on the other side of me, offering a much-needed barrier from the stares that befall us. I’m used to drawing attention, but with the two drifters next to me, it’s the wrong kind of attention. Naturally, these creatures are wary of drifters since they make their living hunting down monsters like them. Likeme. But none make a move against them. They can’t, not unless they want to deal with the repercussions from Sirius. Still, the death stares aren’t exactly comforting.

Jagger doesn’t seem to notice, flashing his effortless grin to anyone who dares to meet his eyes. Goddess, he even winks at a few shifters, taunting them in a silent way that screamsmake a move.

Trouble.

He’s the kind of trouble that isn’t as obvious as Zev, who grumbles and threatens murder without even opening his mouth. No, Jagger is all playful taunts and alluring teases. His entire energy exudes a lethal confidence that is almost hypnotic, every move or sound he makes a sort of soft beckoning. Even those who were glaring at him seconds ago now seem to havetheir interest piqued the longer he gives them attention. It’s both terrifying and impressive to watch unfold.

“Goddess,” I murmur as we reach the private door at the back of the tavern. I turn to Jagger, eyes wide. “You’re a siren,” I say in a hushed tone.

Jagger’s smile deepens, and he gives me a little bow. “Half,” he says. “Clever dove.”

Heat flushes my body at his praise, and I do an internal check of my mental shields. They’re holding, but not as strong as they should be. All the more reason to get this night going.

“It makes sense, now,” I say, thinking back to the night before. His humming, the way I’d felt his influence wash over me. “The guitar, your voice.” I shake my head. “I should’ve seen it sooner.” To be fair, I’ve been a tad distracted.

“Oh no, dove,” he says. “I’m very good at hiding. I’m surprised you see it now.” He gives me a curious look, just a hint of worry creeping through the confident exterior like he’s constantly realizing they’re both underestimating me.

Shit.

I want them tokeepunderestimating me.

I need them to.

I don’t want them to look deeper. The last thing I need is them finding out I’m a?—

“Livana,” Sirius’s voice calls to me, and I turn around, facing the private door behind the ropes and the guards, now open with the sorcerer taking up most of the entryway.

“Sirius,” I say, swallowing hard. It never gets easier, seeing the way his blue-green eyes shift over me, taking stock of my body, my appearance, before focusing on the two guests accompanying me.

“They stay outside.”

“Understood,” I say at the same time Zev growls, “Not a chance.”

I close my eyes and breathe out through my nose, my heart skipping a few beats as my anxiety peaks.

Intrigue shifts along Sirius’s face, his lips pursing, the neatly trimmed goatee shifting at the slight smirk there. He walks past his guards, stopping just at the other side of the rope separating us. He’s almost as tall as Zev, but he’s definitely not as muscular. He’s lean, his body draped in royal blue and maroon, his talisman—a necklace with a thick golden trinket at its center—rests against the center of his chest, a full display of his power.

He comes from a powerful line of Sorcerers—a distant cousin to the extinct Enchantresses. Sorcerers were never as much of a threat as the tresses, so the Collector didn’t target all of them. Plus, as a shifter, he can transform his body into a wild creature, but he can’t wield magic like sorcerers and tresses can…could. He needed to leave some Sorcerers alive to use for his personal gain—like Sirius. He has to bend when the Collector calls just like everyone else unless they want to face a gruesome demise.

Sirius is lucky. Most creatures who have the luxury of finding their talismans keep them hidden at all costs. But Sirius doesn’t because no one would be stupid enough to try and take it from him.

Zev catalogues Sirius, his talisman, and the guards with those hunter’s eyes of his, but he doesn’t balk at any of it.

“The work Livana and I need to do must be in private,” Sirius reiterates, looking from Zev to Jagger. “You two are more than welcome to enjoy refreshments at the bar. My treat, of course.”

Zev opens his mouth—to argue, no doubt—but Jagger cuts over him. “I’ll stay here,” he says. “You go, Zev. Liv was right, you really do need a drink.”

Liv.

The term is endearing, promising friendship and understanding in a way that calls to my hunger for just that. I ignore the sensation, stomping on it internally. There will be nounderstanding between the three of us. There can’t be, not when we’re all using each other as a means to an end.

Zev looks like he might argue but gives one grunt and stalks off toward the bar.

I raise my brows at Jagger. “That was impressive, did you?—”

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