“You cannot be serious.” I roll my eyes. “You're incorrigible.”
“I prefer optimistic. I'm veryoptimisticabout my chances of seducing you.”
I sigh, before dropping my arms down to my sides. “How do I know you're telling me the truth, Rhydian?” I ask.
“Why would I lie about my plans to lure you into my bed?” he teases.
“Shut up. You know what I'm talking about!” I snap, my fists clenching at my sides as I try to keep a hold of my temper.Could Rhydian not just be serious for five damn minutes?
He loses his smile. “Just think about it, Kayla. Why would I kill him? He's some dumb, useless human. He's of no concern to me, or my plans. What did I have to gain by killing him and drawing a ton of attention towards the place where I was trying to keep a low profile because of my disguise? Do you think I'm that stupid?” He looks at me, imploring me to understand his logic.
“I hate to admit it, but what you're saying does make—just on this occasion, so don't get a big head—some reasonable sense,” I admit begrudgingly. His smile returns.
“You know what else I'm right about?”
“If you say anything about us sleeping together I may kill you,” I growl.
“I don't need to point out I’m right about that, because you already know.”
I gape at him.How could someone be this insane, arrogant, and stupidly cocky?
He laughs at the horrified expression on my face. “Let me get you another drink,” he offers—once he's stopped chuckling at my expense. I’m surprised when he stands up and walks over to the bar in the corner of the room himself to get me one.
“Not calling your naked severs back in here, then?” I ask, as I stand up and follow him across the room, leaning against the bar as he mixes me a drink. I eye the strange bottles he’s using, none of the labels are in English.
He raises an eyebrow. “Not jealous, are you?”
“You wish.” I roll my eyes. “I’m just curious as to why you have servers up here, and not down in your basement bar? Though, I’ll admit, that thing is pretty great. I wish I had a bar that would magically make my drinks for me.”
“Well, some of the guests that I entertain up here require people to drink from, rather than glasses for one,” he says. His eyes narrow and fixate on my neck. “I thought you said you and the detective weren’t friends?” His hand darts out, and he brushes his fingertips over my new scar. I flinch and stumble back, tripping and landing hard on my ass. He looks down at me on the floor with a mixture of concern and amusement as my cheeks flush red from both anger and embarrassment.
“We’renotfriends. He didn’t do that, but the vampire who did isn’t my friend either,” I snap, and I stand back up, ignoring his outstretched hand. The meaning behind my words must sink in, as a furious look takes over his face for a moment, but he smooths his expression out before I can be sure.
“You’re quite clumsy for a witch,” he comments.
“Well, being cursed with bad luck will do that to you,” I mutter, grabbing the drink he’d made me and drinking a sip. It tastes great, however, so I gulp down half the glass. I could use something to settle my nerves right now.
“Cursed with bad luck?” he echoes, voice tinged with curiosity.
“Yeah. It’s a family curse. I’m doomed to bad luck forever. Because it feeds off my magic, it’ll never go away,” I grumble.
“Have you tried anything to get rid of it?” he asks.
“A couple spells, but nothing works. My family has tried for a few generations to clear the spell, with no success,” I admit.
“I can look into it for you, if you’d like? I may have access to some resources that your family doesn’t,” he offers.
I chew my bottom lip as I consider it.Do I really want to accept his help?
“I’m not asking for anything in return, sweetheart. Stop pulling a face like you’re considering making a deal with the devil.”
“Then why are you offering to help me?” I ask, wary about his reasons.What does he have to gain from this?
“Because I want us to be friends,” he answers simply.
“Friends?” I snort.That man wants anything but friendship.
“Yes.Friends.”