The scowl deepens, yellow flickering in his eyes—a clear warning. I glance down; half convinced the basilisk powers he doesn’t know I know about will turn me to stone before I get that “thanks.”
“I can’t control my face,” he snaps.
“That’s scary,” I tease. “Should I fear for my life?”
“I won’t hurt you.” Luca pours my drink into the glass. “Not here at least,” he clarifies.
I sigh, take the Blood Tide from him cautiously, then meet his eyes while considering how to calm him. Being frank with anyone makes my skin crawl, but we won’t get anywhere if his basilisk is running the show.
“Luca, I’m not trying to take her from you,” I begin.
“You couldn’t if you tried,” he snarls, then rakes a hand over his face. “Fuckingfuck. What I meant to say is that she’s not mine. She’s also not a piece of rope to be tugged back and forth between us.”
I nod, fully in agreement with the spirit of that statement, except I wouldn’t mind passing Celine back and forth before working together to drive her wild. “I’ve never understood that ridiculous human game. Fighting over a piece of rope is a waste of energy for everyone involved.”Please, Luca, read between the lines.
His eyes flicker, and I sip my drink calmly.
I sense Celine coming before I see her. She comes to a stop next to me at the bar, and I wrap my arm around her waist and inhale deeply. Her scent is lovely.
“I’ve missed you, angel,” I say, kissing her temple. I sense her surprise, but she doesn’t show it. Celine has been part of the fringe community long enough to perfect her poker face. “I have some information for you.”
The second part is only for her ears. She smiles widely up at me. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Ciprian wedges himself in on my other side. “If it isn’t the happy couple,” he says.
“I’ll tell you later,” I whisper in Celine’s ear, grinning when she shoots Ciprian an annoyed look.
“As I was saying,Alistair,I’m dying for some alone time.” She’s making a dig at Ciprian, but it sounds like a promise to me, anyway. Goosebumps creep up my arms.
“Can I get a drink, Luca?” Ciprian asks confidently, ignoring Celine and me, even though he should feel put in his place. I’m not sure anything makes him uncomfortable.
Luca smirks, then shakes his head—as if he isn’t sure why he finds it funny. “Coming right up.”
“He didn’t order anything,” Celine says.
Ciprian shrugs. “Luca never leaves me thirsty.”
Red splotches pop up on Luca’s olive-toned cheeks, and I raise my eyebrows when he focuses entirely on the drink he’s making and doesn’t threaten to throttle the troublemaker.
I’m a simple drinker. I prefer to order the same thing every time rather than branching out and ending up with an unpleasant surprise. Whatever Luca is making is the opposite of simple. By the time I watch him add gin, honey, and a sprig of something green to the shaker, I’m lost. From the way Celine stiffens at my side, she notices too.
Luca coats the rim of a martini glass in sugar, and Ciprian nudges my shoulder. “He knows all about my sweet tooth,” he says.
At that, Luca rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind the gesture. “For my most high-maintenance customer,” he mutters.
Ciprian puts one hand on his heart and grins. “Thank you,” he says. “For the drink and the compliment.”
I can’t help myself—I chuckle. He’s quick-witted, I’ll give him that. Like the night we showered Celine in tips together, I find myself surprised to enjoy Ciprian’s company.
His humor is sharp and practiced. I suspect that he cultivated his ability to laugh in situations that would have made most people cry. It’s an assumption, but I’ve built a profitable business around my ability to read people.
“I think someone offed Roscoe,” Ciprian says conversationally, sipping his drink and glancing between the three of us. Celine freezes against my side, and I raise one eyebrow. There’s much more to Ciprian than meets the eye.
“I don’t know who that is, but what makes you think someone killed him?” I ask.
Ciprian shrugs. “Can’t find him, and his voicemail is full.”
“That’s not much to go on,” I point out.
