Page 37 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

“Those bastards arenotmy kind,” he snaps. “I don’t support what they do. Never have. Never will.”

I narrow my gaze, studying him. He looks believable, even sounds like it too, but how am I really supposed to know? I’ve heard the stories of rogue drifter groups who delight in damaging their bounties before handing them over, and the Collector doesn’t care as long as they do his bidding. Neither him nor the groups see their bounties as anything but property.

I thought all drifters were like that, but Jagger certainly isn’t—or if he is, he’s doing a very good job at hiding it. And Zev…

He hasn’t harmed me. Not really. No more than my pride with his judgmental stares and his sharp tongue. And from the little I tasted of Balan and his men’s desire, I knew without a doubt they would’ve done horrible things to me if they’d won.

“I know,” I finally say, my tense shoulders dropping a fraction with the admission. “I know you’re not like them. Or Jagger. Not that I’ll pretend to know why.”

Golden eyes scan the lines of my face, likely searching for a deception. He must not find one, because he blows out a breath, his harsh features softening. “The Collector,” he says, slowly, forcefully, almost like it’s suddenly hard to speak. “Took someone from me.”

My chest tightens. The look in those eyes—usually so cold, so hardened—is drenched in regret, in shame.

“Someone important,” he continues.

Understanding washes over me as I survey the pain radiating from him—it’s in the tense set of his muscles, the slight flinchin his eyes like he’s reliving a painful memory. I’m the key to undoing whatever’s been done to him.

“I’m worth a trade,” I say, nodding. “That’s why you fought against the core for me and against the other drifters.”

He’s being honest with me, a brutal sort of honesty that I deeply appreciate when so much of my life is lived between the lines of seduction and games to stay alive. It couldn’t have been easy, from the look on his face, to admit as much to me. He’s giving me something in hopes I’ll trust him—as much as a bounty can trust her hunter.

“I thought all drifters delighted in capturing monsters in exchange for gold.”

A low, warning growl. “You thought wrong,” he says. “Do I enjoy killing soulless monsters who threaten innocent lives? Sure. But I don’t relish being forced to hand bounties over to the Collector so he can fill his demented collection. I do it because of the debt hanging over my head.”

I study him, wondering if he’s filling my head with lies to get my guard down. The urge to tell him my truths is at the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. Just because he’s sharing doesn’t mean I have to.

“I didn’t run,” I offer. “Because I don’t want to die.” Not a whole lie, at least. I don’t want to die until the time is right. “And I know the second I become too much of a hinderance on you or Jagger, you’ll kill me.”

Zev tilts his head, and the orange glow of the fire flickers across his face, illuminating his purely predatory features—all sharp angles and hawk-like golden eyes.

“You don’t know me or Jagger,” he says. “And you’re worth more to me alive than dead.”

I arch a brow. “So that means I can do or demand whatever I want, drifter?” I tease, and he growls, but it’s more playful than his others. Goddess, am I learning how to speak grumpy now?

Zev steps closer. So close his chest grazes lightly against mine. Everything in my being narrows to the sensation. Such an innocent touch, maybe even an unconscious one as he tries to pry answers out of me, but Goddess damn me, my bodyreacts. My nerve endings perk up, like a cat arching its back, desperate for physical touch.

“Keep testing me, succubus,” he says. “Maybe the Collector will be just as happy to receive you in pieces.”

I shiver at the threat that sounds more like a tease. I’m so lost in the waves of need crashing over me, which doesn’t make sense after feeding from Jagger not five hours ago.

“You’d bleed in the process,” I fire back.

“I’ve bled for less worthy things,” he says, tilting his head. “Are you going to tell me what you’re hiding?”

“Why? Because you shared a secret, I must?” I shake my head. “That would require a level of trust we’ll never have.”

He grunts, almost like sayingfair enough.

My true power threatens to shine behind my eyes at the mere suggestion of what I keep buried.

His eyes narrow, drinking in my face in a way that makes me feel like he’s slowly carving me open, one layer at a time.

Warm shivers tremble over my skin at that look, at the way my mind races with the burst of flavor on my tongue—cedar, spiced chocolate. He’s allowing me to sense him, unleashing just a fraction of his desire, and I can’t help but swim in it.

Hunger wrenches throughout my body, my mind whirling at Zev’s flavor even from such a small taste—it’s powerful, intoxicating, and as potent as Jagger’s. Goddess save me, these drifters, my captors, may very well end me before I even make it to Lingate.

A smirk, real and unforced shapes Zev’s mouth. “Still hungry, little succubus?”

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