She glanced at him, surprise flickering across her face. "That's it? No interrogation? No annoying questions?"
"You said it wasn't tavern business." He shrugged. "I'm here to investigate sabotage, not pry into your personal life."
"Since when?"
"Since you made it clear you'd gut me if I tried."
Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Smart lion."
"Occasionally."
She grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, pouring them each a measure. Set one in front of him without being asked.
"What's this?" Dante asked.
"Apology for being difficult all day." She raised her glass. "You were trying to help. I was being stubborn."
"You're always stubborn."
"And you're always insufferable." She clinked her glass against his. "Match made in hell."
They drank. The whiskey burned smooth and warm, expensive stuff she didn't break out for regulars. Dante savored it, watching firelight play across her features. The sharp line of her jaw. The way her dark gold eyes reflected flames.
Beautiful. She'd always been beautiful.
The lights flickered.
Maeve glanced up. "That's not good."
The power died completely, plunging the tavern into darkness except for the fireplace. Its glow threw long shadows across wood and stone, turning the Silver Fang into something intimate and secretive.
"Well." Maeve's voice came from the darkness. "That's inconvenient."
Dante's eyes adjusted quickly, lion vision cutting through shadow. He could see her perfectly, standing behind the bar with whiskey in hand and wariness in her posture.
"Could be worse," he said.
"How?"
"Could be a blizzard. At least we're warm."
She snorted, moving around the bar. The firelight caught in her hair as she added logs to the flames, coaxing them higher. Orange light spilled across her skin, turning her into something caught between shadow and flame.
Dante's lion purred, wanting to get closer. Wanting to wrap around her and never let go.
He told it to behave and stayed on his stool.
"How long do you think it'll last?" Maeve asked, settling into the chair across from him instead of behind the bar. Closer than she'd let herself get all week.
"No idea. Could be minutes. Could be hours."
"Perfect." She sipped her whiskey, staring into the fire. "Just what I needed today."
"Bad day?"
"You could say that."
Silence stretched between them, comfortable in a way that surprised him. No banter. No walls. Just two lions sitting by firelight, drinking whiskey and avoiding the truth.
