The male occupants of the tavern sighed in audible relief when Garrick lowered his sword. But I saw Nash’s face as he walked away. This encounter had been settled, but none of us would forget it. If the gates did not kill Nash, I would have to.
“Or I will,”Isanara promised. Warmth surged in my chest—not at the viciousness of that promise, but at theor, because it meant she thought I could be the one to kill him, just as likely as her.
“If you keep smiling like that, I will put my sword through his crotch here and now.”
My breath stuttered in my chest. “That might be the most erotic offer I have ever received.”
The greatsword was still in his hand. His long, thick fingers curved around the blade with an easy competence that turned my insides instantly liquid. Which should have been impossible, because my power was still crackling in my veins. I looked down at my hands, finding them covered with swirling ribbons of frost. Instead of panicking, I was confused.
Garrick sheathed his weapon, then stepped forward and took my hands between his own. It was not until the frost began to recede that I realized he was trying to help me regain control.
But even as my power quieted, he did not release my hands. Instead, he leaned in closer. Or maybe I was the one leaning into him.
The corner of his mouth curved in that smirk. The infernal fucking smirk. I was going to wipe it off his face. Kiss it off his face?—
“You are intoxicated.”
Had I said all of that aloud?
“That cannot possibly be true,” I said, even as I swayed. Garrick released my hands so he could steady me, one taking up residence on my hip, the other settling just above where my belt tried to nip in my waist.
He lifted his brows—another infernal habit. I reached up and pressed my thumb into the divot between them.
“Your clever little spell backfired,” he said. Why did his voice sound labored?
“It shouldn’t even be this effective, not without my coven’s power to ground my own.” I shook my head, regretting it instantly. The tavern blurred around me.
Garrick chuckled. I thought the smirk and the eyebrow raise were bad? The sound of that man’s laugh, deep and resonant and impossibly precious as it rolled over my senses, did something irrevocable to me, more dangerous than any god or gate.
“Perhaps you are more powerful than you realize,” he said. This time, I knew it was him drawing me closer. Probably just to keep me from falling over, but I was not about to complain.
“You think you know everything about me, don’t you?” I pouted out my lower lip, hot satisfaction filling my chest as Garrick’s eyes lingered on my mouth.
Which made me want to look at his. They were full and luscious, a soft contrast to the hard line of his jaw and the silvery stubble on his chin. I watched in fascination as they formedaround his next words. “I can barely begin to fathom your depths, witch. But I want to know them all.”
My mind could not process the feeling behind those words. “Are you intoxicated, too?”
“Unfortunately, not. Your spell does not seem to work on those of us cursed with fae blood in our veins.”
I wrinkled my nose.
I could not be drunk. I’d finished my wine before I said the spell… right before. I could not even bring myself to appeal to the Dark God. I’d stumbled right into this mess all on my own. But when I considered my current position—Isanara snapping her jaws at anyone who approached, my chest pressed against Garrick’s—I could not bring myself to feel any regret.
Though I was parched. I wet my lips but it wasn’t enough. Garrick had finished his liquor. We needed more drinks, though water would be wiser. Maybe it was time to go back upstairs. Or try my hand at a game of thrall. I licked my lips again.
A low groan reverberated through my chest—our chests. It caressed my breasts and sent heat spiraling through my stomach, then lower. “Please stop doing that.”
I tipped my head back so I could see the expression that had accompanied that groan. “Why, Garrick? Why should I stop?”
His eyes were actually glowing. Not the illusion of glowing from reflected light. That inner circle of green lit with some sort of internal flame, the edges bleeding into the cerulean blue. It was otherworldly and unnerving and beautiful.
I’d thought his gaze was intense before. But when he leaned down into my space, closing those inches of height that separated us, I nearly melted under the force of it.
“Because if you do not, I am going to lay you down across this table and show you exactly what you do to me with that wicked mouth of yours.”
I licked my lips again. “Do you promise?”
He pressed his eyes closed. “Witch.”
