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“A witch,” I correct.

“Doesn’t matter. An old curse placed on a whole family by some rotting, long-dead shrew who was likely both incensed and inept can’t last.”

“Dark curses fade?”

“All the time.”

I shoot Shock a skeptical scowl. “Why have I never heard this?”

“How much do you know about dark magic?”

“Very little.”

Shock sends me an acidic smile. “There’s your answer. Only those engaged in the dark know how to wield it.”

And the Denzell family is notoriously steeped in it. “Old curses don’t have to be countered or solved? They just…fade away.”

“I’ve said so more than once. Are you stupid?” Shock shakes his head in exasperation. “After a time, the only power a curse possesses comes from the idiots who still believe in it.”

He’s insulting me, but I don’t care. If the leather-clad asshole isn’t lying, then I might actually be free to beg Kari to Bind to me.

On the other hand, is there any reason Kari could pose some unseen threat to Shock? To the Anarki?

“A human barmaid? Seriously?” He laughs.

I suppose not.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I assess everything he’s said. I don’t know what’s true, but one thing is clear: I have to tell Kari why I didn’t want her Binding to me and why I broke her heart. I owe her that. She’ll probably think I’m lying. Or that I’ve lost my bloody marbles. But the truth will be out. Then, I can either continue to keep Kari at arm’s length and be utterly miserable for the next nine hundred years or?—

“Oh, spare me the theatrics of the young and indecisive.”

I level a glare at the dodgy prick. “Why would you explain curses to me? Why bother?”

A smile tugs at Shock’s rugged face. “Tynan says Kari serves some of the coldest ale around. Who am I to resist?”

* * *

Kari

As I prepare to close the Brew for the night, I search the thinning crowd for Ronan in the mirror above the bar. He’s still in the same spot, nursing a scotch the waiter served him earlier. His stare never leaves me.

I don’t understand him. That wizard Called to me—something he’s never done in all his decades of random shagging. Since those words are the magical equivalent of a wedding vow, they should mean something. Indeed, Tynan swore that, once a wizard speaks those words, he never wants another woman. Ronan must be the exception, since he left with that blonde who, apparently, doesn’t believe in bras and could only find half her skirt.

After the tosser’s betrayal, I cursed him, cried, then mentally filed him away with all the cheaters and fukbois. I braced myself to see him pick up another meaningless fuck the next night. But he didn’t. More shocking, he hasn’t in nearly a fortnight. In fact, he hasn’t so much as looked at another woman.

Is it possible Ronan wasn’t lying when he said nothing happened with the blonde?

Perhaps, but it’s more likely I’m rationalizing because I want so badly to believe him. Like a fool, I’ve been contorting myself through these mental gyrations for nearly two weeks.

Another glance at Ronan in the mirror as I pretend to clean a glass. Another woman with a pouty mouth, generous cleavage, and a killer dress—all the items on Ronan’s must-do list—approaches him. I tense and tell myself to look away. But no, I hold my breath and force myself to watch.

As with every other woman of late, Ronan smiles politely and declines. I exhale in relief as the woman slinks away.

Is it possible Ronan actually…cares? That he truly thinks of me as his mate? If so, why won’t he have me Bind to him?

Blast it all, why couldn’t I fixate on a different man, a normal one? Human. An accountant, maybe. Because I would find him utterly dull. Ronan, with his seductive, bad-boy vibe, does something to my heart no man—not even Edward—ever has.

“Kari?”

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