‘Later,’ Remi said. ‘First, music.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Dylan
DYLAN LEANED AGAINST THE DARK BAR,WATCHING CALLUM.He was trying for ease, despite the way his body hummed with awareness.
He set his teeth watching Callum saunter back after handing Nicole and Remi another round of drinks, like if he bit down hard enough it would make him forget about the effect all that casual grace hadon him.
He’d been taught that Empyreals were brutish and single-minded, aggressive in their pursuit of a hunt. That wasnothinglike Callum, who was all charm and sophisticated danger.
He didn’t know how to do this. How to tease out someone else’s secrets, because he’d been so used to keeping such a guard up onhis own.
But he supposed everyone had tells, he just needed to figure out what Callum’s were.
‘Relax,’ purred Callum as he ordered another drink with an elegant wave of his hand and the flash of a smile.
‘I am relaxed,’ Dylan gritted out.
Callum’s chuckle razored down his spine.
Dylan straightened. ‘Distract me, then,’ he tried. He hadn’t forgotten their conversation before the Varian attack, nor the one in Burghley House. He wanted answers.
The challenge got Callum’s attention, and for a beat, the eye contact left his skin searing.
‘How would you like me to do that?’
Damn him and his liquid voice.
‘What did you become, in the alley?’ Dylan asked.
‘Oh—’ Callum looked away, uninterested.
Dylan’s intuition flickered.
‘Who knows?’
‘You magicked a sword from your jacket. Changed the air flow to stop the scent spreading.’
‘Probably a Warlock.’ Callum took his new drink, his strong hand and deft fingers flashing with a ring or two of swirling design. Expensive looking, as everything about Callum’s style was. ‘Couldn’t have the kill scent spreading around and setting any other Empyreals off, could I?’
‘You barely looked like you transformed.’
‘Yes, well, transformations get smoother when your body is used to them.’
‘How long did it take for that to happen for you? A thousand years? Less?’
Callum slid him a knowing look. ‘So curious this evening.’
Dylan gave a placid smile. ‘We’re supposed to be chatting, aren’t we? You’ll forgive me for being curious about the process.’ He looked over the club, picking up his drink, pleasantly surprised by its flavours. They were well-balanced and light despite the chasing heat spreading down his throat.
‘Here I thought a certain madam would have told you all about it.’
Nicole. Dylan looked at his sister, remembered the panic of that blood-soaked night.
‘We – haven’t spoken about it much. It was hard.’
The music of the club and the low conversations covered the momentary quiet.
