She reached for the bag of pistachios to dole out their lots and nodded at the deck. “You can deal this hand.”
“Are you any good at this game?”
“Not bad. I liked cards at school, though that was long before poker. Poker’s much better than what we played.” But she was a natural, considering that she could magically manipulate the cards in the deck. But she wouldn’t tell him that.
“School?”
“The North American Academy for Immortal Magics.” She said it in the tone that the headmaster had always used, official and staid.
“I take it you dinna like it there.”
“How do you figure?”
“Did you no’ run away before you graduated?”
“None of your business. How did you know that, anyway?”
“Before we invited you to join the university, we did some research on you. Got to know your background, your leanings.”
Meaning, did she lean rogue or with the university? “Hmm. Well then, I guess you know all about me. So why are you asking?”
“Because I don’t know as much as I’d like to. And I’d like to hear the details from you.”
Startled, she met his eyes. He looked almost as surprised as she was to have admitted to such a thing. Had Warren had a change of heart about her? Accepted that he was attracted to her, despite the fact that she was a soulceress?
If the kiss the other night was any indication, then yes.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“You know what we need? A drink.” She nodded toward the door. “How about you go fetch us something? I’ll deal.”
He looked down at the cards, obviously wondering if he could trust her to deal when he was out of the room. Like it mattered. But she just smiled in what she hoped was a winning fashion.
“Don’t worry about those. I’ll play fair.” As fair as you’ve played with me.
Her smile faltered only slightly when he met her eyes, but whatever he saw in her face had him nodding and rising to go find something to drink. She couldn’t help but follow him with her gaze. His stride was powerful, matched by his rugged build and suited to the masculine bedroom in which he’d placed her.
Her heart clutched a little, reminding her of all the times she’d wished she had his undivided attention. Now that she had it, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Quickly, she dealt a hand, not bothering to fuss with loading the deck. Playing a few honest rounds would allay any suspicions he might have. The cards had only been laid out on the table a moment before he returned with a dusty old bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.
“A man after my own heart,” she said, eying the bottle with appreciation.
“I thought you’d like this. Found it in Cadan’s stash in the basement. He makes his own.”
She nodded, remembering hearing something about that. Cadan had one of the oldest and most famous distilleries in the country, from what she recalled. With his immortal life and exceptional memory, he had an advantage when it came to running a long-term business in which age acted as a sign of quality. Mytheans all had that going for them, if they chose to utilize it.
Her eyes followed Warren’s big hands as he uncorked the bottle. Scars ran across the backs from when he’d still been mortal. He’d been a warrior, but what kind she wasn’t sure. His hands were gentle as he worked the cork free, and images of what they could do to her flitted across her mind.
She tore her gaze away from his hands, only to meet his eyes. Her own darted away and she cursed herself silently. She needed to calm down. Somewhere between departing for Staffa and sitting here, she’d lost some of the shell she’d cultivated to protect herself.
Now she was just a chick with a crush, and it was pathetic. She accepted the glass that Warren handed her and inhaled.
“Thanks,” she said, then nodded at his cards and the pile of nuts she’d laid out for him.
When he’d picked them up, she dealt the flop. The three cards stared up at her from the middle of the table, and she frowned at her shitty hand.
“No’ what you’d hoped for?” Warren asked.