Page 34 of Truthfinder’s Promise

He tamped down on the jealousy that flared at that casual statement. “What happened to him?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “He married Siren.”

“Your ex married one of your best friends?”

“Yes, though I fail to see how that’s relevant to this conversation. Alright, so we’re engaging in a mutual curse.” She pursed her lips and he could see her thinking—no doubt running through all those genius nerd theories she’d learned from her ex. Then she gave a delicate little shrug. “I suppose there’s no real harm in it.”

Whatever had prompted her to agree, he was willing to bet it had absolutely nothing to do with her thinking there was “no real harm in it.”

“Can the oath be modified?” she asked.

“What?”

“The oath, can it be modified? At the moment, I’m promising two things—my silence and accepting your people as my own. You’re only doing the latter. It seems unevenly skewed in your favor.”

“So your issue isn’t with voluntarily engaging in a mutual curse, but that it’s not an equal bargain?”

“What can I say? I believe in equality.”

Alrighty then. “What do you want?”

“I want you to promise that you will do everything within your power to prevent bloodshed between Shifter and Aspect societies.”

“You so sure that’s a decent bargain? For all you know I’m wildly unpopular and no one takes my opinion seriously.”

“You’re extremely popular and everyone takes your opinion seriously.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you divine that truth out of thin air?”

“I didn’t have to. You’re an easy man to like, Jensen.”

Her words hit him right in the gut, almost as hard as the realization of what he was about to do. He never thought he’d make this oath. Never thought he’d care about any woman enough to make it, and the knowledge they planned on dissolving it didn’t make it all that much easier to swallow.

It’s a strategic alliance. Not a damn marriage. Sure. Tell that to his people.

He managed to unstick his throat. “You’ve got a deal.”

You’re an easy man to like? Where the hell had that come from? She was supposed to be a Truthfinder not a Truthspouter.

Why don’t you go wrap your arms around his neck and tell him you missed him and you really thought you might have had something special?

Goddess. She made a disgusted noise at herself, which made Jensen look at her weird. What had he said last? Oh, yes. They had a deal. “Great. How does this work?”

“Give me your left hand.”

She dutifully held it out. For a minute she thought he was going to hold said hand. He sort of did, but instead of palm-to-palm he slid further, his hand closing gently around her wrist. She closed her own hand over his wrist in imitation and ignored the happy little thrum that went through her body at touching him. Clearly, she needed to get out more.

“Ready?” he murmured. Did he have to say it all bedroom voice, like touching her was affecting him as much as it was her? And was she imagining things, or had his thumb just stroked the inside of her wrist?

She glanced up at him and immediately knew looking at him had been a mistake. His eyes were hot, practically the definition of a smolder, exactly like he’d looked at her the first night in that bar when he’d asked if he could kiss her. This time, she knew it wasn’t her imagination when his thumb swept over the pulse in her wrist.

Her breath hitched and he shifted closer. “I missed you,” he said softly.

She wished her magic would pin the words for a lie, but it didn’t. I missed you too. She didn’t say the words. She knew better. She also knew if she didn’t do something to freeze the heat sizzling between them his lips were going to end up on hers. Then they would forget all about society-bridging magical promises and the fact they had a very limited timetable to get this done before she had to go meet the devil.

“You were locked in a basement for six months,” she said lightly. “I imagine you missed everyone under the sun. Let’s get this over with, I need to leave in” —she glanced at the clock— “ten minutes.” She saw in Jensen’s eyes that he wanted to argue, so she pulled on the cold, empty society princess mask she’d worn for so much of her life, retreating behind poise and indifference until, as one person had memorably told her, it was difficult to discern if she was a person or an ice sculpture.

Confusion flickered across his face. She’d never been this person with him. She’d never had to be. “Jensen?” she prompted coolly.