Page 13 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

“I would happily purchase a more expensive beverage for you. A cocktail, or a mixer?” He smiled, bewildering me when the gesture softened his dark eyes. “I feel like celebrating.”

“I—uh, I don’t drink anymore,” I said, warming at my core for reasons I wouldn’t acknowledge. “My, um, program frowns on it.” Suddenly, he looked from me to his wine glass. Damn it, I shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“Should I return this? I will not be long—”

“No—” I reached out to stop him when he started to move away.

My fingers brushed over his knuckles, and he halted immediately.

The contact sent a shock down my hand, through my wrist and up my arm as I flinched back.

“I’m way past that stuff now, anyway. None of my family will let me live it down, but I’ll be damned if I make anyone return their drink for me.

” My confession left me breathless, struggling to shove down the vulnerability that had bubbled up out of nowhere.

At least Drake sat down again, opposite me but strangely too close after what just happened—or maybe too far.

“They seem to care about you greatly. Your family, that is.”

“How do you know?” My skepticism faded as he cleared his throat, and it clicked. “Wait, were you watching us after you dropped me off?”

“It seemed ill-advised to leave a young woman all alone on the desolate streets.” Drake shrugged. “When the woman with the large knife appeared, I feared I had placed you in some peril before your familiarity became obvious.”

“Laura. They are Elias’s middle child.” Wait, he ’ d have no idea who Elias Tsosie was.

So used to being around people who already knew everyone else in my life, I changed tracks.

“I met up with my cousin Olivia and my dad after that. Unlike Andrew .” I rolled my eyes.

“Who—even though it was hi s fault I was wandering those abandoned halls—went ahead with the burning party…” I cut myself off to gauge his reaction.

My silence must have been obvious, because Drake’s easy smile turned strained, like he knew exactly what I’d been referring to.

“If you fear for my disapproval, I assure you that the disposing of murderers does not concern me.” His tone was bitter, uncharacteristic from what little I knew of him.

Except his ire didn’t seem to be directed at me, or my family of hunters, but at the very thing I hunted .

An odd kinship glowed in my heart, which I promptly squashed before it could make my face any redder.

“Good to know,” I stammered, defenseless against his unwavering gaze. “Um, by the way, talking about things that have been ‘disposed of,’ you don’t happen to have my lucky keychain, do you?”

“The one with the pierced beer bottle cap?” he asked, curious, and I nodded.

“That’s it. I’ll be wanting that back.”

“Certainly,” he agreed, and I waited, assuming he would produce it from thin air like he had my denim jacket. “Unfortunately, I do not have it with me.”

“Damn,” I grumbled, turning back to the nachos to hide my grief. “Just, don’t lose it, okay? It has a lot of meaning…” Maybe it was stupid to reveal that to a potential enemy, but it wasn’t like he’d care—

“Why is that?”

Really should’ve expected that one. My eyes closed briefly, and I inhaled a deep breath to prepare for the words about to pour out of me like a dam. Unlike the tears I refused to cry. If he wanted to know, then so be it. Everyone had a sob story.

“It’s from the first beer I ever had, when I was thirteen. Olivia snuck them out of the fridge for us while my mom was in the hospital,” I explained, and my gaze lowered to my glass of tasteless water. “She was gone two months later. They caught the cancer too late.”

Readied for the onslaught—either pity or patronizing comments about how she’s ‘in a better place’—I wasn’t prepared for Drake’s response.

“It is unfortunate that she cannot see how beautifully her daughter has grown,” he said, voice even, leaving no room to be questioned. Slowly, my gaze rose to meet his. Understanding shone behind Drake’s eyes as his head tilted slightly. “That is a true tragedy.”

Moisture briefly blurred my vision until I blinked it away.

The only people who’d come close to empathizing were Caleb and his siblings, but none of us liked bringing up the topic of our dead mothers.

Elias had had to raise three kids into adulthood after his wife, Rosa, passed suddenly from a car accident.

It wasn’t like Mom’s death. Isabelle De Loera-Harker had died slowly.

Drawn out by chemotherapy that just wasn’t working fast enough.

As per usual, the thoughts threatened to drown me whenever it was brought up, obscuring everything else going on around me.

This time, for whatever reason, I managed to focus on the intensity of Drake’s gaze.

The nearly black pools of his eyes were stifling, making it too easy to look past the shimmer of mirage concealing what he would really look like under direct sunlight. Shit, I couldn’t get lost in his allure, so I forced myself to lean away and cleared my throat.

“You don’t even really know me,” I accused, mild and perfunctory.

“Not so,” he replied, straightening up like he’d been unintentionally leaning closer.

“I know that you are brave, determined, and—most importantly—a fan of mysteries.” Drake smiled, completely at ease while heat flamed my face at being given so many compliments in quick succession.

“And, obviously, very selfless.” That made me snort.

“Yeah, right. I’m accepting a free meal, aren’t I?

Running the risk of spilling guac and melted cheese on this borrowed dress.

” I waved my hand up and down to further illustrate the point, but I didn’t expect his gaze to track the motion so closely.

My body spiked hot to match my face when he took an unashamed second before looking me in the eye again.

Swallowing hard, I tried to turn the conversation around. “So, your name really is Drake?”

“Yes, although admittedly, it is not my given name, but my last,” he answered, swirling the barely touched red liquid in his glass by moving the stem with his forefinger and thumb. “In full, I am Ignatius Drake.”

“No middle name?” Teasing edged into my tone, and Drake briefly smirked.

“They were not very common when I was born. What about yourself?”

“My middle name is Joanna, but if you try to call me ‘MJ’ then you’ll be on the wrong end of my blade.” Despite my honest annoyance about the nickname, Drake laughed.

“I will steer clear of it, though I fear it will be tempting without knowing your family name.” The glint in his perceptive eyes was unmistakable, and I took a deep breath.

“It’s Harker,” I said, burying a wince the instant the name left my lips.

“Ah, how appropriate. Perhaps I ought to have guessed.”

Brows raised, I stared him down. “Because of Stoker’s work?”

“Indeed, though I glean from your attitude that you dislike its representation?”

“Vampire fiction doesn’t interest me. They never get anything right. Even Bram embellished.”

“Stories tend to require a level of ‘embellishing,’” Drake agreed, clearly amused while I pouted down at my empty food basket.

“What about you?” I asked, my gaze rising to meet his. “What’s your story?”

“Not nearly as exciting as your family history, I assure you.” He lifted the glass of wine to his lips, hardly taking a sip.

Obviously avoiding my prying—which I was so not going to let slide after his own probing questions—he surveyed the bustling pub, slowly emptying when the ‘responsible’ crowd started shuffling on home.

A forlorn expression came over his striking features while observing the people around us go about their lives. Following his line of sight, I watched a group leave through the main door.

“Did you want to go? Catch up with your buddies, or whatever it is you do together,” I asked, and my heart jolted when Drake’s focus slid back to me. The corners of his lips twitched, not quite smiling, but no longer frowning.

“While I enjoy their company, I confess that I maintain no close relationships with people.”

“Why?” I asked, and my brow pinched. After everything he’d been going on about, claiming he wasn’t a risk to anyone, it seemed like a major red flag.

“Would you be able to deepen any relationship where you could not be honest and true about who you are?” he asked in turn, and my mind emptied.

Even with Everly, who could practically read my thoughts by looking at my face, nobody had come close to understanding that simple fact. My cousins didn’t seem to care. Olivia brushed it off whenever I asked her about people she might be interested in, and Andrew was too hopeless to get a date.

Ethan might have had an easy time hooking up with strangers, but as far as I knew, it never went beyond some fun nights and then deleting their numbers to make space for new ones.

Drake’s answers were unexpected, but I’d stopped feeling uneasy in his presence sometime between when we got here and now.

Maybe because I’d been blindsided by our kindred spirits.

“I get that,” I murmured after a moment. Lips pursed, I pushed the empty chips basket aside and drank the last of my water. Drake’s wine wasn’t even half gone, but he didn’t seem to care. His attention went to my scraps, instead.

“Would you like dessert?” he asked.

Smiling, I nodded and grabbed my jacket. “If you’re shouting, then sure.”

Drake’s black eyebrows drew together. “You wish for me to speak loudly?” His complete sincerity made me laugh, but I stifled it when the bartender glanced over.

“No, I meant, are you still paying?” Biting my lip, I watched his understanding dawn.

“Yes, as long as bribery aids me in my plea for innocence,” he said, smiling like he already knew the answer.

I rolled my eyes, but grinned. “Sure, it’ll keep you on my good side—for now.”