Declan just stares at me. Does he think I’m an idiot or has this never occurred to him?
“Even if you’re right,” he says finally, “whoever cast the spell has been dead for centuries.”
“There doesn’t have to be a person.” I lean forward, voice picking up with the thrill of an idea. “There could be a condition, an acknowledgement of a wrong, or maybe some simple action that ends it?”
“Emery,” he says gently, “if that were possible, my family would’ve found it.”
“What if it couldn’t be found untilnow?” I shoot back.
He raises his eyebrows and his lips tilt into an indulgent smile.
“I’m not sayingI’mthe reason,” I add, just in case he thinks I’m that full of myself.
He shrugs. “Maybe you are.” At least he sounds sincere and not like he’s mocking me.
“How was everything?” Harper reappears at the edge of the table, too chipper for the room’s energy.
“Wonderful.” I push my plate away, amazed I managed to eat that much while talking about ancient death curses.
“Can I interest you in dessert?” she asks, her gaze bouncing between us.
“Anything chocolate,” I say without hesitation.
Declan chuckles low in his throat.
Harper grins. “We’ve got a blackout cake that’s to die for.” She squeezes her eyes shut like she’s savoring the memory of the last bite that passed her lips.
“Sold,” I say.
“I’ll have coffee,” Declan adds, flashing her his lazy grin. “And I’ll help her with the cake.”
After Harper leaves, I lean over the table, voice light again. “Who said I’m sharing my chocolate cake?”
He mirrors me, elbows braced on the table. “Trust me, you’ll need the help.” His gaze dips for half a second, teeth catching his bottom lip like he can’t help himself.
I glance down and realize my sweater’s gaped open. Heat climbs my neck. I palm the neckline closed and catch him watching me—unapologetically.
“You’re really a boob guy, huh?” I tease, remembering the awed way he’d studied my body this morning.
He shakes his head slowly, that faint smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. “I think I’m just an Emery guy.”
If that isn’t the sweetest damn line. Coming from Declan, anyway. If any other man said that while blatantly checking me out, I’d probably toss my water in his face.
Harper returns balancing a plate the size of a dinner platter. The slice of dark chocolate cake towers in the middle, glossy with ganache and crowned with dark chocolate shavings.
“Enjoy,” she says, sliding it between us with a wink before disappearing again.
I blink at the mountain of chocolate. “Okay, fine,” I admit. “I might need your assistance.”
Declan’s smoldering eyes are pure sin. “Told you.” He nods for me to take the first bite.
I dig my fork into the side closest to me. The rich chocolate scent hits first—warm, indulgent, sinful. Eyes locked on Declan, I slip the fork into my mouth and can’t help the small sound that escapes when the sweet, velvety flavor hits my tongue.
“Good, right?” Declan asks, watching me instead of tasting the cake.
I nod, swallowing. “Dangerously delicious.”
He hums low in his throat, slides the fork back into the cake, and offers me another bite—his bite this time. I should shake my head, insist that he try it, but instead I part my lips and let him guide the cake closer.
