Page 57 of The Poison Daughter
I glance back at the bar. Harlow said she was getting a bottle of something and then she’d join us, but she’s been chatting with the bartender for a while now.
“I thought she’d dress more discreetly. She looks?—”
“Arresting?” Carter suggests.
I roll my eyes. “She looks adequate.”
“That dress is a weapon,” Carter says. He nods to the bar, where every single man’s gaze is trained on her—or, rather, the back of the dress. “Though you’re right. It’s not exactly the best way to stay under the radar. I think the whole place is staring at her.”
A quick glance around the bar confirms that most of the room doesseem to be trained on her. She’s half-bent over the bar, pouring herself a glass of sparkling wine and laughing as the bartender slaps her hands from the bottle. The woman reaches to tuck a hair behind Harlow’s ear and then rubs her temple. The gesture is soft, intimate, and for a moment Harlow is bare-faced. She smiles indulgently and winks at the woman.
“Looks like they’re close,” Carter says, startling me from my gawking.
I take a long swallow of whiskey and it burns all the way down. “It seems so.”
That’s something I can use. Perhaps she’s not as cold-hearted as she likes to seem.
Harlow grabs the ice bucket and some glasses and starts across the room toward us, her eyes shooting daggers at me.
Carter clicks his tongue and leans forward in his chair. “I don’t know why you’re pretending you’re not interested. You love exotic things. How could you not like your poison princess and her violet eyes?”
“They’d likely be more effective if I could see them,” I say.
Carter grins. He loves to throw it in our faces that he can see color and we can’t, but that strangeness in our magic is still a mystery. Though all of us who nearly died in the Drained attack ten years ago couldn’t see color for a time, those who fall in love seem to get that back through a divine mystery we still don’t understand.
Carter’s color returned when he fell in love with Naima. He claims it happened the first time he saw her, but I’m fairly certain it was several minutes after that, when he used a crude pickup line on her and she dumped her ale on his head.
“Keep your voice down,” I snap. “I told you her magic so you could watch your back, not blab it in the middle of a crowded bar.”
“These men are too shit-faced to hear anything but the sound of their own lewd thoughts,” Bryce says. “The way I see it, there’s no reason you can’t do your assignment and enjoy all its considerable benefits. She looks like she’s planning your death.”
Carter shakes his head and claps Bryce on the shoulder. “It’s twisted that you’re into that, my friend, but it explains so much about your love life.”
“Spoken like someone boring and settled who forgets how much funa good hate-fuck can be,” Bryce says. “Harlow, let me help you.” He launches to his feet and helps her set the glasses and bottle on the table. Then, he takes her hand and makes a show of bowing to kiss it.
“What a gentleman,” she says.
I don’t miss the way she bends toward him, offering an eyeful of her cleavage as she takes her seat. Bryce doesn’t even pretend not to notice, letting his eyes linger on the swell of her breasts.
“That’s a lovely dress,” he says.
“This old thing?” she says, running her fingers down the plunging neckline.
Bryce tracks the path of her finger until I slap his arm.
“Eyes to yourself. That’s my fiancée,” I say.
Bryce tips his head back and laughs as he opens the bottle. “You’re going to have your hands full with this one. She’s way too pretty for you.”
Harlow preens, but I can tell she’s just trying to get a rise out of me. It’s so irritating that her technique is working. For a breath, I fantasize about how much easier this would all be if I could simply manipulate the truth out of her.
“So, what are we doing here?” I ask. “I’d really like to know who is responsible for my mother getting hurt.”
Harlow clicks her tongue. “Relax, mama’s boy. We are all motivated to find out what happened last night. Bea is well-connected, so I thought I’d ask if she’s heard anything.”
Bryce hands her a glass of bubbling wine, and she sips it.
She hums in satisfaction and grins at me. “I hope you don’t mind, my wolf. I had her put this exceptionally expensive bottle on your tab.”
