Page 28 of Strange Familiars
Still, I can’t help wondering…exactly how many women has he pushed up against one of the Briggs mansion’s many walls?
My mouth twists in disgust. He’s a right royal shit and I feel quite sure he only did it to toy with me. To throw me off my game. He didn’t actuallywantit. He didn’t actually want me. He probably wasn’t enjoying himself at all.
But then…My mind strays to the way he’d physically reacted to me on the dragon. And again, when I slipped the card into his pocket. That second time, my fingers had inadvertently bumped the evidence in his trousers that he was, in fact, enjoying himself. Very,verymuch.
It’s nothing, Gwendolynne, I scold myself.Just a physical reaction. Nothing more, nothing less.We were only in that compromising position so we wouldn’t get caught raiding Darghan Briggs’s study.
Harrisford moves faster than me, so I’m breathless by the time we stop in front of an opulent set of double doors. “My room,” he says curtly.
My stomach gives a sickened lurch. His father had told us to go to his room, so he took us to his room.
Inside, it’s much like his dorm room at Heywood Hall—except even more extravagant. The comforter on the bed looks like gold-shot silk, the marble mantelpiece is stupidly large, the ceiling is vaulted with a painted mural. A fuckingmural, for Chrissakes! It’s ludicrously, preposterously, and nonsensically lavish. It makes me even more determined to stop him fromeverentering my room.
I slip the book out from under my shirt, unthinkingly dumping it on a nearby table. My attention is elsewhere—my head swiveling, taking in my surroundings—unaware until too late that my mouth is hanging open.
When I catch sight of Harrisford’s smirk, I shut it, my teeth clicking together, and give him a tight-lipped smile. “I suppose we should make a plan.” I lean against his desk, grasping the edge with both hands.
Harrisford disappears into his walk-in wardrobe for a few seconds and reemerges holding a fresh shirt, which he drapes across a chair. “We should,” he says, shrugging out of his braces so that they’re hanging below his waist. Then, facing away from me, he tugs his shirt over his head.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him shirtless and…he is more muscular than I’d ever envisioned. Not that I make a habit of envisioning Harrisford Briggs without clothes, of course, but I’m amazed at what he’s managed to hide beneath his scores of shapelesscoveralls and loose linen shirts. He’s all carved muscle, thick biceps, and broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and his unnecessarily tight trousers display the thickness of his legs. There are old, healed scars—probably from his time working with mythical beasts—covering his back and neck.
I swallow, my mouth dry.
Harrisford looks up suddenly, over his shoulder, and grins. “Like what you see, Chan?”
Heat floods my face and neck, and I grab a book off his desk, flipping it open and burying my nose in it to hide the redness of my face. “No.” I stare hard at the words on the pages, but they don’t seem to make any sense. They’re bleeding and blurring together, and my ears are roaring, and it kind of feels like I’m drowning, being pulled underneath the water.
In my peripheral vision, I see Harrisford putting the new shirt on. He buttons it, leaving the top three open as usual, and saunters over. I stare even harder at my book.
Harrisford tips the book toward me so that he can read the cover. His smile widens, becoming almost exultant. His murmur is sultry and velvet soft. “Reproductive Biology of Monstrous Creatures,” he reads out. “Really, Chan?”
Ugh. Of all the books I could have grabbed off his desk, I had to grabthis?
My cheeks are burning, but I refuse to be cowed by him. “Yes. It’s a bit of an interest of mine.”
His eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “What a coincidence. It’s one of mine, too.” He grins. “Perhaps we should study…together.” He’s entirely too close. Uncomfortably close.
“Sure,” I say, and shut the book with a snap. “How about we start with all the different methods of castrating a male?”
He chuckles, and I throw the book at his head, unfortunatelymissing it when he manages to duck out of the way. The book tumbles to the ground. We both leave it.
“So?” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “What now?”
Harrisford runs a hand through his hair, leaving the back sticking up. “I suppose…I suppose we should try to figure out the source of the actual surges. It definitely seems as though Magecorp are doing something shady, but to find out what, we need to know how—and where—they mine the magic.”
I frown at him. “You don’t know?”
“No. That information is restricted to a select few, and kept hidden in the vault at Magecorp HQ. They say it’s for security reasons, and because it’s their intellectual property, but I suspect it’s actually so they can control the market.”
I pause for a moment, thinking. “We’ll need to sneak into their offices, then,” I say finally.
Harrisford paces to his desk chair, bracing his hands on its back. He stares at the ground for a long while, then shakes his head, defeated. “I don’t know if it’s even possible. My father’s study is one thing. But Magecorp HQ? That’s a whole other layer of difficulty. The levels of security they have there are tremendous.”
He straightens as I approach him, watching me with wary eyes, until I’m close—near enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. I reach out, slipping my hand into his pocket. He goes rigid beneath my touch.
“Luckily, then,” I say, pulling out the card, “I have a staff ID.”
The next morning, Harrisford’s gaze slides to my face, then back to the card he’s holding, then back to my face.
