Page 89 of The Unweaver

“From that Willie the Lion record? I might know how to play that one.”

Her pulse quickened when he came to stand behind her. Leaning down, he surrounded her, one hand on the piano lid beside his wine glass, the other testing the chords. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as his breath stirred her hair.

“Hm, still sounds off.” Pressing closer, he reached around to play with both hands.

The satisfaction of hearing the music that had eluded her was eclipsed by his nearness. Heat flooded her body. “I…” Voice husky, she cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could play.”

“Not as well as you. But it’s one of my favorites.”

She tried to follow the song at first. Then her eyes drifted shut as she sank into wine-lulled sensations. There was something oddly wonderful about being both cradled in his arms and the beautiful, imperfect tune he played. If he noticed her leaning into him, he didn’t object. Even after the final note trailed off.

“You turn such a pretty shade of pink,” he murmured in her ear.

Her eyes flew open. Rearing back, she twisted around and elbowed him in the stomach. He grunted back a step, still too close.

“Do you try to sleep with every woman in your gang?” she demanded.

He gazed down at her with a hardening expression. “Ask the question that’s really on your mind.”

“Did you sleep with Yvonne?” A test. Would he deny howmiraculousshe claimed he was?

Emotions flitted across his face, settling on an infuriating smirk. “You’re jealous.”

“I— Youpresumptuous—”

He caged her against the piano, arms bracketing her. Their faces were whisper close. Reason fled and heat surged in its wake.

“Do you have feelings for me, Cora?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes. Several. Contempt. Outrage. Disgust.”

His hooded eyes caught on her parted lips, and the air thickened as he dipped his head. “Something tells me just how you'd like to”—he nipped her throat, over her throbbing pulse— “release those feelings.”

She pulled away until the piano keys dug into her back in a discordant tune. But it wasn’t far enough to escape the tumbling exhilaration in her belly. “Did you? Sleep with Yvonne?”

He drew back with a flicker of irritation. “Years ago.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head. Sick with it, she still found herself asking, “What happened?”

“She wanted more than I could give her. I ended it.”

Yvonne’s coy smiles and lingering glances made Cora think it was far from ended for the Phytomancer. “And other women in your gang?”

“One instance is a trend, is it?”

“You tell me.”

A frown shadowed his face. Straightening, his arms dropped to his sides. “Does it matter what consenting adults do in the privacy of their bedrooms?”

“Well, no. Of course not. Unless there’s an uneven power dynamic.” Wine had loosened her tongue, and she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Though perhaps you prefer professionals. Madam Kalandra told me you’re one of her best customers.”

He ran a hand over his face. “For information. I’ve done many things in my life. Paying for sex is not one of them.” Tilting his head, he studied her with a reemerging smirk. “You are awfully curious about my sex life.”

Their gazes collided. She had an urge to speak the truth she didn’t want to admit to herself. Instead, she said, “Who’s Colleen?”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “Now you’re conjuring ghosts? Colleen was a childhood sweetheart.”

He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and she didn’t actually want to know. And yet, she sensed a wall erecting between them and lobbed a final question over it. “What happened?”

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