Page 17 of Curses & Keys (Curses & Gods #1)
Photographs flash up on the screen behind him.
Most of them are men dressed in familiar camouflage, but it’s the single solitary figure covered head to toe in a black bodysuit that makes me want to bang my head on the table.
Shit. That’s me. The gods aren’t going to be happy about my appearance on a council press conference or the reward they’re offering for any information on me. Thankfully, I’m completely in disguise.
I’ll have to lie low for a while. Easy enough to stay here and do my university job or go on the Egyptian expedition.
Better yet, I could lie low at the farmhouse.
Catch up on the objects in the vault that need curses removed and give several of those to the university to maintain my cover.
Plus, it would give me time to research the key.
Figure out what the gods want from me. It’s not as if they’ll suddenly appear and tell me.
They believe in making me work for the answers.
My alarm goes off, and I hurriedly click out of the screen and delete the history. I bring up a website about Dr. Kathleen Martínez’ search for Cleopatra’s tomb. It’s truly a fascinating story. My gut says she’ll find it. Right now, though, this is just a cover in case anyone snoops on my browsing.
I run out of the library and head to my office to grab my things.
As I fumble to get the key in the lock, I realize it’s already unlocked.
Cautiously, I enter the room. It’s empty.
I did lock it, right? I remember grabbing my things earlier, but I don’t remember if I stopped and actually locked the door.
I grab my lecture notes, then step outside and lock the door.
I jiggle it twice to be sure. Then I practically jog back to the library.
Sun glints off Hawthorne’s dark brown hair, bringing out the natural red highlights. Broad shoulders block the sun from hitting the book in front of him. Several female students sit nearby, gawking at him, but he doesn’t glance in their direction.
I set my peace offering on his book, then sit beside him.
He looks at the white bag suspiciously. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
Flicking a glance at me, he plucks the bag off his book and slowly eases it open.
I laugh. “It won’t bite you.”
He stares down into the bag, then reaches in and grabs the cupcake. Holding it up, he raises an eyebrow. “Why are you giving me food?”
“It’s not food,” I snort. “It’s a double chocolate mocha cupcake from the best bakery in town… It’s also a peace offering.”
He stares at me, as if trying to decide whether I’m sincere or not.
“Take a bite,” I urge him. The air is filled with the sweet scent of chocolate intermingled with his earthy smell. All of which smells delicious.
A small smile replaces the stoic expression. With a discreet flick of his wrist, two forks appear in his hand. “Share it with me?”
Smart man. “Only if you take the first bite. I’m dying to see the expression on your face.”
He purses his lips but gives in to my request. The moment he puts the bite in his mouth, his sea-green eyes light up. Not a word passes his lips until he swallows. “This is hands down the best cupcake I’ve ever eaten. It’s pure bliss. You’re forgiven.”
I watch his tongue slide across his lips to catch the lingering frosting and almost groan at the thought of how delicious he must taste.
With a shake of my head, I lean in close and whisper, “There might be a teensy bit of magic in the recipe. A Fae owns the bakery.” I snatch up a fork and take a bite. Flavor explodes in my mouth. Mmm.
A knowing look passes between us. “I’ll need the address of this miraculous place.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I can’t. Sworn to secrecy. Besides, this is my secret weapon. You never know when I’ll need to bribe you or ask for forgiveness.”
A shutter comes down over his eyes, the laughter fading away as if it never existed. He studies me for a second. “Or you could just be honest with me.”
When I say nothing, he shakes his head and takes another bite. “Maybe one day.” He finishes his half, then motions to the notebook in front of him. “Let’s work out the final details for this project. I’d like to work on the outline for the lecture this afternoon.”
This is exactly why none of my relationships has ever worked out.
Who wants to date someone who can’t tell them the truth?
Who always hides things from them? I can’t reveal myself to anybody, but especially not to a supe.
It’s so tiring. Maybe I can tell them some of my secrets.
Not about my pact with the gods, but perhaps I can share things about me. My abilities. I need to think about it.
I paste a smile on my face and open my notebook.
It takes us about an hour to finalize the details.
Once we’re finished, I pack everything up and make an excuse to leave.
For now, it’s probably best to keep things strictly professional between us.
I lick my lips, catching the lingering taste of chocolate on them, and feel kind of sad I won’t taste his lips on mine.