Page 17 of Jinx

“Oh, come on!” he whined and gave me a hangdog look. “I need to know what is so amazing about that sandwich.”

I had to give him credit—he had a very effective pout. So instead of telling him to go order his own if he was that curious, I found myself sliding my plate over with the remaining half. He wasted no time in scooping it up and taking a huge bite.

“Oh, gods,” he moaned around the mouthful, the sound erotic enough to make me blush. “I get it now.”

I laughed in flustered agreement and re-crossed my legs. We ate in companionable silence, but I was far from comfortable. With every second that ticked by, my magic grew more and more irate. I ached, and it wasn’t in a ‘hurt so good’ way. It felt like my magic was trying to tear through my skin to get to him.

“You still can’t touch me,” I blurted out. It was more to remind my magic that I was in control, but Bellamy just curled his lips into a smirk.

“Uh-huh.”

My neck felt hot. “I mean it, Bellamy Jones.” The ridiculous name jumped off my tongue, and I could’ve died of embarrassment right there.

He just snorted. “Close. It’s Braxton.”

Bellamy Braxton. Dammit, even his name had my core clenching.

“Uhm. Can I–” I scrambled for a topic shift, but found myself coming full circle. “Can I ask you something?”

Bel nodded, suddenly serious. “Of course. Anything.”

I worried my lip between my teeth, nervous as hell, but I had to ask. I had to know. “Are you Other?”

The words flew out in a whispered rush. His eyes flared wide, but before he could answer, the bell over the door chimed and drew my attention like a magnet. I had to do a double-take, eyes darting to Bellamy before rushing back to his nearly carbon-copy that just entered the cafe.

Twins?

“Yes. Ours.”

My magic twisted in my chest, going feral. I had to clench my teeth to trap a pained cry from escaping. It was getting worse with each handsome face that entered my orbit. I’d tried to convince myself that Bellamy was a fluke, but then Lucian happened, and I was left questioning my life choices. Now, this man had me panicking—I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to resist the dark urges coursing through my veins like liquid fire.

But even as I wondered, my eyes drank him in, unwilling to look away. With every second, he looked less and less like his brother. This man’s amber eyes were guarded behind black-framed glasses, wary, like his trust didn’t come freely or easily. A tidy, full beard covered his strong jaw and framed a stern mouth. Longer, tawny hair was pulled into a tidy man-bun that only accented his impeccable outfit—crisp Oxford shirt, fitted olive tweed vest, and slim jeans.

When my gaze made it back to his face, I realized I’d been caught staring. Then Bellamy waved him over, and I knew I was done for.

12

QUINN

I wasn’t sure what the emergency was when my twin texted me a cryptic message to meet him at the tea shop. We were supposed to meet for a beer at Bronson’s Pub. I’d never seen him drink a cup of tea in his life. I figured it out as soon as I walked in the door.

He’d already told us all about the mysterious girl he’d met. It took half a second for my gaze to clash with hers, and my broken beast preened under her attention. Give it up, I snapped at him. The ignorant hope he tried to flood me with was torture.

I swept my eyes over her, taking her in, while she did the same. Tight black athletic pants hugged her curves, and a soft blue hoodie did little to hide them. The tempting skin revealed by her half-zipped top was flushed, and I absently wondered if she flushed like that everywhere.

Bellamy waved a hand, pulling me out of my trance, and I tugged at the hem of my waistcoat. The girl blinked, bright blue eyes wide. Did my idiot brother even tell her he had a twin? Not like I could ever pass for him. Bellamy was the charming jock. I was the quiet bookworm. They were personalities we carried into adulthood.

As I approached, I could feel the pull she had on me. Bellamy had said he barely felt it when they first met, but I was the third member of our drift that she’d encountered. By the way the corners of her eyes tightened when I finally joined them, it was clear that pull was gaining strength.

And she was fighting it, tooth and claw.

“Blue, this is my brother, Quinn.”

I scoffed to myself at his derisory nickname for her, a word attached to nothing more than the color of her hair. No, even I could see this girl was much more than that. She was delicate but resilient, beautiful but deadly.

“Hello.” Her eyes dropped immediately, and I didn’t like that. I wanted them on me. She fidgeted with her sleeves and pulled them over her fists before tightly crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hello, Cordelia.” I winced at the rough rasp of my voice. My vocal cords were scarred so thoroughly that not even Rami could make them right again. Her eyes jerked back up at the sound of it, their color darkening with unexpected interest before she quickly tried to shake it away.