It’s the first genuine thing he’s said all night. And it hits harder than all the flirting and silence combined.
The scent of cardamom and smoke lingers, and I draw in a breath. My gaze meets his, coffee-black and shining. I chew the inside of my cheek, the resolve I’d mustered faltering.
Maybe I’m not the only one pretending. Maybewe both showed up tonight as shinier, more seductive versions of ourselves designed to photograph well but not fit into the real world.
Rolling my shoulders back, I meet his gaze head-on. “Then we’re doing something I want to do.”
Declan’s brow lifts, intrigued but cautious. He starts to speak, then stops. His chiseled jaw flexes, hands sliding into his pockets as he rocks onto the balls of his feet before settling onto his heels. A man used to giving orders, not taking them.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Something fun.” I lift my chin. “And witchy.”
His mouth curves, warmer and looser at the edges. “I’m game.”
A thrill races through me, part fear, part possibility. I hold out my hand, palm up, pulse loud in my ears.
“Let’s see if the universe is too.”
Four
“Your palm,” I say, nodding toward my outstretched hand. My purse is hooked over one shoulder—half security blanket, half escape plan. I’m still ready to bolt the second he stops being amenable and falls back into acting like a fuckboy.
His gaze drops, and he stares at my fingers like they’re a test he didn’t study for. “My palm?” he echoes.
“How else am I supposed to tell you your destiny?”
He studies me for a beat, unreadable emotions flickering behind his eyes. The tension between us is veering dangerously close to real vulnerability, and my pulse is doing things I do not trust. I need a minute to recalibrate, so I lean into the one thing that feels safe—performance.
The lines around his eyes feather with a smile, but he doesn’t move right away. “I got the sense you were witchy, but I didn’t think you…”
I cock my hip. “Didn’t think I what?”
Declan lifts one broad shoulder. “Practiced. If that’s the right word.”
“It is, and I am well-versed in many forms of witchcraft. Including palmistry. So, come on.” I wiggle my fingers. “We had a deal.”
Declan’s skeptical expression doesn’t shift, but he extends his hand, palm up between us. His fingers curl into a loose fist, then unfurl again. There’s a mountain range of calluses along the insides of his fingers, and a thin, pale scar traces the curve of his thumb.
“Rock climbing.”
The words barely register. I’m too busy staring at his hand—long fingers, rough palm, a knuckle that looks like it’s been broken and reset.
“I’m a rock climber.Used to be…” There’s hesitation in the way he says it. A fracture, almost. Like something about it still stings. “Iused to bea rock climber.”
“What happened?”
His fingers twitch. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me my future?”
“Okay,secrets.”
“Some things are better learned slowly.” His voice is low. Not a warning, exactly. But not an invitation either.
My heart gives an unhelpful little stutter. “I think that qualifies as a cryptic one-liner.”
He exhales softly, nearly a laugh, and his smile this time is real. It changes his whole face. Makes him look almost reachable.
I cup his hand, warm and heavy in mine. His skin carries its own current, lightning pacing beneath the surface, looking for somewhere to land.
