Page 8 of The Seeker
“His instincts are good,” Zep said.
“Maybe not such a recluse after all.” She patted his knee and stood, handing him the empty paper bag. “I should go. I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”
“Want me to come with you?”
She shook her head. “Give me your card.”
Zep reached in his back pocket and handed a business card over.
Meera tucked it in the pocket of her sundress. “I’ll tell him to contact you when he gets a chance.”
“Still guarding your secrets?” Zep looked up. “I’ll find out eventually.”
She laughed a little. “Not if I don’t want you to.”
“Go.” He nodded at the scribe. “It looks like the professor is getting antsy.”
She crossed the square,watching the man’s reaction as she approached. Meera knew she was an attractive woman. She was petite and rounder than was typical for Irina. Most Irina burned massive amounts of calories surviving in the human world. Their metabolisms were faster than humans.
Meera had been raised to have near-perfect control of her ability to read souls and ironclad control over her shields. It allowed her body to be a bit softer, which many considered an attractive trait in the Irin world. She was aware of the appeal and used it to her advantage whenever possible.
But she was stymied by Rhys. He didn’t rise as she approached. He didn’t offer any acknowledgment at all other than a gaze locked on her face.
Interesting.
“Rhys of Glast,” she said.
“And you are Meera,” he said. “That’s all Sari told me. She didn’t say you’d be with anyone.”
“I wasn’t planning to be. Zep just happened to be patrolling the Quarter last night.”
“Anything interesting?”
“You’d have to ask him.” She handed over Zep’s card. “He wants you to call him later. He’s very friendly, but he’s protective.”
“Understood.”
He was still sitting. Meera didn’t know if he intended to be rude, but her father and mother would have found the man’s lack of deference insulting.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I thought you’d had your fill of watching me. So it’s my turn.”
Meera cocked her head. “Are you always so easily perturbed?”
It was then that he rose, stepped toward her, and Meera felt the full effect of the scribe’s physicality. It caused an intriguing curl of interest in her belly. This was no mere scholar. He moved with practiced grace and control, not like Zep’s lazy tiger, more like a stalking leopard. He might be an archivist, but he was a warrior too.
“I don’t like people,” Rhys said.
Meera angled her head up to meet his eyes. She could see them faintly behind his sunglasses when he was close. They were thick-lashed, another fiendishly sensual detail in an otherwise impassive face.
“You’ll like me.” She gave him a smile she knew would show her dimples. “I’m delightful.”
He reached up, his expression unchanging, and stroked a thumb over the corner of her mouth.
Her smile fell away. It was everything Meera could do not to shiver. “What do you—?”
“You had powdered sugar on your lip,” he said. “It was distracting.”
“The best things usually are.”
