Page 13 of A Kiss of Flame
“We’re fine, thanks,” Levian clipped, reaching for her drink. The pix blinked as if she’d forgotten Levian was even there, her smile slightly faltering.
“The crisps,” Barith reminded her.
The pixie perked up, her smile brightening as she winked at the dragon. With a snap of her fingers, a bag of crisps appeared in her hand. She had some fae blood if she could conjure. She handed the bag to Barith. “The onion, right?”
The pix might as well have taken her curvy behind and sat it right in Barith’s lap with how much sexual energy practically wafted off of her.
“Aye,” Barith confirmed, tearing open the bag. “I cannae believe ye remember that. Thanks, Lily. We really appreciate yer help.”
Lily smiled at him. “Any time, darling,” she added, her fingers grazing his bicep one last time before disappearing into the crowd.
After a night of raucous drinking in Berlin, of which Levian only remembered bits and pieces, Carvatticus had left to return to Obsidian. The daemon had seemed to make friends with Barith, much to her delight and annoyance—especially since some of what she did recall of the night involved them trying to one-up each other by telling the most embarrassing stories they could remember about her. Car won in the end. It hadn’t been amusing.
Barith shoved a handful of onion crisps into his mouth and turned to Levian. “Wha—?” he mumbled, crumbs falling into his beard.
Levian rolled her eyes and took a deep swig of her lager. “I take it you two have been an item?”
“Me and Lily?” he scoffed, nearly downing half his pint in one gulp. “Nah.”
Levian raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “She practically tripped over herself when you walked in, and she’s exactly your type.”
He grunted. “And what exactly is my type?” he asked, refilling his mouth with crisps.
“You love a flirt with curves and a captivating smile. There was a time when those dimples alone would’ve been enough to charm you out of your better senses—not that you had many to begin with,” she snarked.
Barith chuckled, tipping his head thoughtfully. “Ye aren’t far off, though I’m not quite the same dragon I once was,” he said,a hint of pride in his voice. “I don’t go rolling about with every creature willing to smile at me.”
Levian mocked a gasp. “It’s the end of an era.” He smiled, and even Levian wasn’t immune to the charm of his expression. Her insides turned irritatingly gooey.
“Ye can say whatever you like, mage,” he shot back, amusement glinting in his eyes. “But we both know I’m as charming as a country cottage in springtime.”
Levian snorted softly. “Perhaps one that’s missing half its thatched roof.”
Barith scratched his bearded chin before leaning closer to speak over the rising noise of the crowded bar. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think ye were a bit jealous,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Jealous ofwhatexactly?” she retorted.
He took another long pull from his pint, sucking the foam from his mustache. “That I’ve still got it, and yer only lovers these days are books.”
Levian scowled. “And what makes you think that?” she shot back tartly.
Barith gave a soft shrug. “You’ve been busy with other things, and ye rarely mix business with pleasure unless it’s extremely convenient.”
She bristled at the acuteness of his observation. “I’m that obvious, am I?” she sneered.
“Yer just you,” he replied, his voice calm and genuine.
Levian scoffed into her pint and scanned the crowd, hoping to drop the subject of her nonexistent love life. They were here for a reason—not to flirt with barkeeps or argue about who had more sex appeal. Levian knew she could easily find a lover if she wanted to, but she didn’t, even if she did feel more irritably undersexed these days. There would be time for lovers after herblack-masked thieves were caught, which was precisely why they were in this Folk pub in the middle of London in the first place.
The Eldreth were an old family of pixies that ran the largest underground brokerage dealing in rare Dökk artifacts. Levian had a lot of connections, but oddly, she had none when it came to the Eldreth. They were meticulous, secretive, and didn’t exactly have a phone number to call. She needed an in—someone who could help her find an Eldreth Curator to verify the Heart Orb and facilitate a deal for them to broker its sale. If the Eldreth tried to sell the orb, the thieves would know it was legitimate and would most certainly come hunting for it. All they needed was the Curator, and she hoped to have a name before the night was through.
“Enlighten me.” Levian prompted. It wasn’t as if they had anything else to do while they waited for Lily to point out the shifter who might have the name she was after.
Barith finished his beer and turned on his stool to face her better. When he shifted, an entire table of young witches looked at him, smiling and giggling. It had always been like this. Barith was a dragon, and dragons were like rare gems. Rare gems with a reputation for being rather skilled lovers, even if not all deserved such unearned praise. The fact that Barith was silver-tongued and stacked with muscle didn’t hurt his prospects, not to mention his auburn hair, golden-flecked beard, amber eyes that could sparkle with flame, and his rather obvious tail. He usually kept his wings and tail glamoured away when they were among mortals, but down here in this basement pub amongst the Folk, he let his tail hang openly along the edge of his stool.
The dragon didn’t seem to notice the witches at all. “You never take lovers when you’re focused on work,” he told her. “Ye like to throw yourself at a problem without distraction. I’ve always respected you for it, to be honest—yer discipline. Andwhen you’re with someone, you have your rules and keep to them.”
Levian fought back the uncharacteristic urge to blush under such an apt observation of herself. “I don’t know aboutrules,” she mumbled.