Page 2 of Curses & Keys
My eyes sweep from the ring on his finger to his broad shoulders and down his muscular body. Polished. Arrogant. He’s not my usual type. I lick my lips. Then again, I don’t like to limit myself. This man looks like he knows how to take care of a woman.
His eyes narrow, observing me intently, but then, with a shrug, his gaze softens. “Not married.” He holds up his hand. “Signet ring.”
A faint vibration plucks the air, and I grasp his hand. The thick gold ring is stamped with a distinctive crest—an eye, cross, pentagram, and crescent moon. It signifies his mage family. I run a light finger over its surface and feel a sharp prick of magic. It’s definitely cursed. I could remove it, but it’s dangerous to remove a curse when you don’t know what it will do to the wearer.
His thumb caresses the back of my hand, causing goosebumps to rise on my arm as I place his down on the bar. “Some illustrious mage family, I presume?”
He shrugs, but I can see the surprise and wariness in his eyes. “Something like that. I’ve never seen you here. How long have you been a member?” With a quick flip, he sets the coin down on the bar.
The details catch my attention.
“A few centuries, at least,” I absentmindedly reply.
The bartender places my drink and food in front of me, but I ignore them and slide a nail under the rough, uneven edge of his coin and pick it up. The image of Athena wearing her Attic helmet is on one side, and—I flip it over—an owl on the other.
“Silver tetradrachm. Around 510 BCE. Coins widely known as ‘the owls.’” I lightly trace the image. “Single pendant earring and necklace still visible. Her profile and helmet are clear. Mint condition. Very nice.” I place it back on the bar.
His eyes narrow, and he tilts his head. “Impressive. Jamison de Vere.” This time, he holds out his hand to shake mine.
“They were very popular in Ancient Greece. Minted for over four hundred years. There are quite a few of them out there, although not all of them are as nice as yours,” I say with a strained laugh, a feeling of homesickness hitting me. “Phaedra.” Deliberately leaving off my last name, my hand clasps his. Firm. Sexy. I like a man with a strong handshake.
Then his last name registers, and I barely stop my lip from curling. “Lord de Vere?” Now that would be an interesting but very dangerous connection.
He nods, watching me closely. “My esteemed father.” There’s little expression on his face, but the sneer is apparent in his clipped tone. I guess he’s not a fan of his father either.
Jamison taps the coin. “Are you a collector?”
I don’t push. After all, I’m the last person who would share family secrets. Instead, I focus on answering his question. “Supernaturals live a long time. I collect knowledge.”
His response is a wide smile, but the watchful look in his eyes tells me he’s trying to figure out who or, more importantly, what I am. Unable to smell magic on me, he’s not sure if I’m a vampire, shifter, or supernatural hybrid.
Mages don’t age like humans, but they do age. I study him for a second. He appears to be in his mid-to-late twenties, which means he’s probably closer to three hundred years old.
“If you know most of the members, I’m guessing you come here often?”
His food arrives, temporarily distracting him. “Too often.” He carefully arranges the glass of water and silverware until it meets his specific spatial requirements.
I can’t help but raise my eyebrows. Everything in a precise order. The man is meticulous. Pays attention to the details. Certainly not a bad thing in a lover, but dangerous in any other capacity. A thrill runs up my spine.
Exhilarated by the unexpected edge to this night, I prop my chin on my hand and take a sip of my drink. “So, tell me, de Vere, what do you do?” I deliberately use his last name to remind myself of his dangerous father and to see his response.
“Jamison,” he stiffly corrects me, confirming my suspicions. “I work for the council.” His answer is short, but his gaze is speculative, probably wondering where I’m going with this conversation.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, even if there’s discord between the two.
I wrinkle my nose. “What a shame. I was hoping to have some fun.” With a deliberate pout, I turn away and slather some goat cheese on a cracker, then take a bite. My eyes flick to his, and I wink.
He clears his throat. “Hmm. Unfortunately, I’m leaving shortly to attend an important event. If you give me yournumber, I’d love to take you to dinner tomorrow.” There’s a seductive quality to his voice that was absent a minute ago.
I silently snort, certain his sudden interest has less to do with my appeal and more to do with figuring me out. He would be a truly relentless adversary.
An important event.
I stifle the laugh choking my throat. Unable to resist the urge to play, I finish my food and take the last sip of my drink before setting it down. Leaning into him, I trace a nail over the shell of his ear, watching as a slight shudder runs through him.
“I’d love to go to dinner.”And anything else you might have in mind.
My fingers caress the back of his neck while I whisper my number in his ear. I inhale deeply, taking in all the delicious smells of magic, man, and power, then brush my lips across his cheek.
