Chapter 1 #2
Not missing a beat, I know how this goes, I brush my hair behind my ear, running my fingers down my throat.
His eyes trace the movement, turning dark and molten as he swallows, angling his body towards mine.
The faintest thrill of lightning crackles in my chest, warming my entire body as I lick my lips.
I line up the key information I need to coax from him in my mind, about the Crucible, where it’s being held, and about Killmarth.
If I’m careful, he won’t even realise what he’s given me. ‘Are you a scholar too?’
‘Not like this lot,’ he says, indicating the now packed bar with a slight wince. ‘But yes, a hopeful scholar, I guess you could say.’
‘Oh?’ I shift slightly, sipping my drink. ‘In the city?’
‘Not here, no,’ he says and grins at me. His mouth dips to the shell of my ear and I feel rather than hear his next words. ‘Killmarth College, a place for magic wielders.’
‘So you’re a wielder,’ I say, all wide-eyed and breathy, reaching out to run a finger, feather light along his jaw. Those soft brown eyes darken to chips of charcoal and I know I’ve captured him. ‘How did you … get a place there? I’ve heard it’s really hard to get in.’
He moves his leg against mine, as though adjusting to better listen to me, and the press of his thigh on my own sends a flush of heat straight to my core.
Clearly, he knows how to play the game too, although if I play this right, he won’t even realise we’re playing different games until I’ve won.
‘I haven’t got a place yet. There’s an entrance exam, shall we say?
Tonight. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be drinking before it, I guess. ’ He shrugs with a grin.
‘You seem like the kind of person who can take a risk,’ I say resting my head on my hand so the caramel waves of my hair fall over my shoulder. His eyes trace the movement, then slowly sweep back to mine. ‘Is the entrance exam … difficult?’
‘Well, kind of.’ He sips his drink, watching me over the rim of the glass. ‘But it’s the best college in Kellend to train your magic.’
‘Fascinating,’ I breathe, as I tiptoe my fingers along his arm, admiring the swell of his bicep before looking back at him.
This is more detail than I’ve found in months.
The mere scraps I’d gathered before about Killmarth, listening closely on assignments for the Collector, or hanging around public lectures on magic are nothing compared to what he’s giving me now.
He’s a gold mine. But before I ask more about the Crucible, I need to be sure.
Unconsciously, my hand strays to the bracelet on my wrist, the one the Collector put there.
The one that binds me to him. ‘You must be such a strong wielder. What happens when you get there?’
He angles his body even further, leaning on the table with his forearm.
Now it’s just us in this small space, the rest of the bar, the scholars seeming to drop away.
‘Well, Killmarth has wards, powerful ones. They measure your magic, and strip any outside magic away, except your own. You can’t trick your way in.
No one but a hopeful, a scholar or a professor can enter.
So, you do have to be … really strong.’ He reaches out, fingers fluttering over my jawline, tracing the curve of my neck and, despite myself, a coil of heat unfurls inside me, the toffee scent of velvane and woodsmoke hovering between us.
‘And this is my last night in the city for some time. In fact, I’ve only got a few hours before the entrance exam begins. ’
‘Ah,’ I say, pulling a face as I craft my next lie. So close. I’m so, so close to getting everything I need from him. ‘Well, I kind of have somewhere to be soon … Do you have time tomorrow, after this entrance exam?’
He shakes his head slowly, regretfully. ‘It starts at midnight, then after, if it all works out, I’ll have to leave.’
‘Maybe I could meet you before, nearby. Where is it?’ I ask, running a finger over my bottom lip, so his focus stays there, and doesn’t dwell on the questions I’m asking, the information I’m extracting, drop by drop. I don’t want to push it or make him suspicious.
‘It’s this place called Alabaster House, not far from here, but I have to prepare … a pity you have to leave soon. Is it for work? What do you do?’
‘Oh, it’s boring really,’ I lie. ‘Just a city job gathering information.’
His gaze intensifies. ‘I can’t imagine anything about you being described as boring.’
I smile, leaning in to close the last few inches between us and place my octagonal glass firmly on the table.
I’ve got all I want out of him. I know the location, the time, and finally, I’ve had the confirmation I needed about Killmarth.
Victory is so close, I can taste it, I can feel it, and it takes all of my carefully trained restraint to tamp it down, to seem regretful.
I want to ask him how he’s preparing for it, but I don’t want to seem too obvious.
I’ve got a few hours, there’s time, and I can’t leap up now and leave.
Besides, maybe I like this stranger. Maybe I could linger a little longer.
Maybe I want him to kiss me. ‘So does this count as prep for this entrance exam?’
He grins and shakes his head. ‘Probably not the prep I should be doing.’
‘Oh?’ I ask softly, edging tantalisingly closer.
‘But this is far more interesting.’ His gaze dips to my mouth as he closes that final inch between us, then his eyes meet mine, searching for approval.
‘Let me make it even more … interesting.’ I murmur against his lips.
Feather light at first, his kiss is the softest brush that sends a shiver of delight all through me.
He tastes delicious. Smoky and sweet, an enticing elixir that makes me instantly light-headed, like he’s my first taste of the finest golden toquay.
His hand slips round my back, drawing me into him until our bodies are pressed together, and my senses are consumed by his touch, his skin, his intoxicating scent.
His hand moves up my back, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me tighter, deepening the kiss, and I moan softly into his mouth as his tongue flicks against mine.
I run my own hands over those powerful arms, feeling the shift of his muscles.
I’m sinking into him, tumbling, drawn like a moth to a flame, heat sparking deep in my core, my need for him beginning to pulse.
But even still, it’s my mind that’s on fire.
All he just said, everything he imparted, the information about Killmarth College, the Crucible …
Killmarth has wards, powerful ones. They measure your magic, and strip any magic away, except your own …
I press myself a little harder against him, enjoying the feel of him, his skin, his touch, but my thoughts are exploding, calculating, assessing.
The bracelet even now is a whispering warning, shivering against my left wrist. I’ve tried cutting it.
Heating it, twisting it, tearing at it. But it’s bound to me just as I’m bound to the -Collector, growing heavier and heavier the further I have strayed from the city, the whispering warning against my wrist becoming weighty and thick as rope.
I’d given up all hope. There seemed to be no way, no possibility of ever … but this is my way out, I’m sure of it. I commit the place of this entrance exam to memory, Alabaster House, and the time, midnight. Could I? Would I be able to scrape through with the illusion I can wield?
I break away from him, slightly breathless, and reach for my drink.
Then I toss back the dregs before winking at him.
His mouth is all flushed and swollen, eyes glittering with the promise of more, and it takes all of me to wrench myself away.
He would have been one of the best distractions in some time.
‘I really do have to go,’ I say, steeping my voice in husky regret.
‘It’s been fun, though. Nice meeting you. ’
‘So soon?’ Desire ebbs away on his features as I rise, tucking my blouse back into place, wiping at the corners of my mouth. ‘Without even telling me your name?’
His hair is all mussed, the top button of his shirt undone.
He’s leaning back in the seat like some reclining god and my breath stutters.
He’s beautiful in a lethal sort of way, with his come-to-bed eyes, those high cheekbones, the way his shirt pulls across the planes of his chest. At any other time, I would have gladly fallen into him, spent the night wrapped in his arms, the contours of our bodies melding …
but I have things to do. Maybe if this all pans out, I’ll see him again at Killmarth and we can finish what we started today. ‘I got what I wanted,’ I say.
He exhales, watching me with those dark, glittering eyes. ‘Perhaps I did too.’
For a heartbeat, I wonder what he means.
But with a final smouldering glance over my shoulder, I walk towards the door and leave the Pickled Gargoyle, waving goodbye to Pewter on my way out.
As I hurry through the afternoon streets of the city, back to the antiques shop, my home, I know I have one more lie to spin.
A final goodbye to make. And a Crucible to prepare myself for.
My fingers flex over the silver bracelet and for the very first time, hope ignites like a flame in my chest.