Jennifer Estep: Widow's Web

Her antics did not amuse me—not one little bit. Especially since the woman was staring at my lover like she’d very much like to have him for dessert. Like it was almost a forgone conclusion that she would, despite my presence at the table.

Finally, she tore her gaze away from Owen long enough to glance at me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Of course,” he echoed again. “Salina Dubois, this is Gin Blanco. Gin, Salina.”

I discreetly tucked my knife back into my purse, closed the top, and put it down on the table. Then I got to my feet. Salina held out her hand to me, the same remote expression on her face that she’d shown McAllister—the one that told me just how very far beneath her and unimportant she thought I was.

Still, I took her hand. Even assassins could be polite on occasion. Her grip was firm, and her fingers felt cool against my own. I felt the tiniest trace of magic emanating from her, so faint I wondered if it was just my imagination.

Some elementals constantly gave off invisible waves of magic even when they weren’t actively using their power, like embers throwing off heat. I concentrated, and once again I felt a faint flicker of magic. So Salina was an elemental, then. For a moment I thought that perhaps she had Ice magic, but her power didn’t seem quite cold enough for that. No, her magic felt . . . softer and more fluid, like a raindrop sluicing across my skin. Perhaps she was just a weak Ice elemental, or maybe she was gifted in an offshoot power, like water.

We shook, but I didn’t immediately let go of her hand afterward. Instead, I held on and turned it to the side, staring at the silverstone bracelet on her right wrist. The cuff was more than two inches wide and had a vaguely Egyptian design to it, like something an ancient queen might have worn. Delicate loops and whorls had been etched into the center of the cuff, along with a rune—a mermaid with long, flowing hair, a curled-up tail, and a serene smile.

Elementals, dwarves, giants, vampires—practically all of the magically inclined in Ashland and beyond used runes to identify themselves, their power, their families, and their businesses. So it didn’t surprise me that Salina had her own personal rune. In fact, it seemed especially suited for her, since a mermaid was the symbol for deadly beauty. I could easily imagine Salina perched on a rock somewhere, wearing nothing but a seashell bra and a smile, luring sailors to their watery deaths with a mere crook of her finger.

What bothered me was that it seemed like she’d done the same thing to Owen once upon a time, judging from the way he couldn’t stop staring at her.

But more than that, something about Salina’s mermaid rune seemed familiar to me, like I’d seen the shape somewhere before—and her too. I could almost feel a memory wiggling around, trying to break through to the surface of my mind. Strange, because I should have remembered meeting someone like Salina. She was the sort of person who was hard to forget, if the reaction of all the men, and some of the women, in the room was any indication.

“What a beautiful bracelet,” I murmured.

I traced my left index finger over the mermaid rune and realized that I was getting the same sensation from the bracelet I was off Salina’s hand—one of cool, constant motion. So she used the cuff to store her magic then, like so many elementals did their silverstone rings, watches, and necklaces.

Salina pulled her hand out of mine and made a pointed show of rubbing my fingerprints off the cuff’s glossy surface. “A family heirloom.”

“Charming.”

We smiled at each other, being painstakingly polite the way Southern women so often were, even though our eyes were flat and emotionless. Instant dislike on both sides.

Salina stared at me, taking in my simple black evening gown with its long, swooping, poet sleeves and full tulle skirt, which hid the two knives I had strapped to my thighs. Her gaze lingered on my own silverstone jewelry, the ring on my right index finger, which had my spider rune stamped into the middle of it and contained my Ice magic. But apparently, my ring wasn’t as impressive as her bracelet, because she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she focused her attention on Owen again.

“I’m so glad I ran into you tonight,” Salina purred. “Especially since you never returned the message I left at your office last week about my finally coming back to Ashland.”

I looked at Owen, who winced. He’d never told me about any message he’d gotten from her.

“Anyway, now I can give you my good news in person,” Salina continued in her soft, sweet voice. “Before, I said I was only coming for a visit, but I’ve decided to move back to Ashland permanently. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Wonderful,” Owen echoed, his voice even fainter than before.

Salina smiled and moved even closer to my lover. She reached out and smoothed first one side, then the other of his jacket, before bringing her fingers up and toying with his lapels. “The two of us will have lots of time to catch up now. I’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Over at his table, McAllister pointedly cleared his throat, saving Owen from answering that loaded question. Salina turned to send the lawyer a cold, withering look and held up a finger, indicating that she’d be there in a minute. Then, she focused her attention on Owen again, all smiles and sunshine once more.

“Call me, darling. You have my number. Any time, day . . . or night.”

Wow. Subtle she was not. I don’t think her meaning could have been any clearer than if she’d hiked up her dress and asked Owen to do her right there on the table.

Salina winked at him, then sashayed back over to McAllister’s table, where the lawyer was still standing, his hands now clenched around the back of the chair he’d pulled out for her. He didn’t like being ignored any more than I did. The two of them sat down, and McAllister started talking, although Salina was only half listening to the lawyer, her gaze repeatedly drifting over to Owen.

My lover sighed and looked at me. “About Salina—”

I reached over and straightened his tie, giving him the same killer smile Salina just had. “Not while we have an audience, darling . There’ll be plenty of time to chat in private on the drive home.”

I told the waiter to put the bill on Finn’s tab, and Owen and I left Underwood’s and got into his car. We didn’t speak on the drive over to Fletcher’s house—my house now. Owen steered his Mercedes Benz to the top of the driveway and put the car in park, but he didn’t turn off the engine. Instead, he stared out the windshield into the darkness—brooding.

I wondered what he was seeing—what he was remembering about Salina. The time they’d been together, the things they’d shared, how she’d made him feel when they were alone in the dark, their skin touching, their hands exploring, their bodies arching into each other.

My heart pulsed with jealousy at the thought of them together, but I stayed quiet. Owen hadn’t been a virgin any more than I had been when we’d gotten together. We both had pasts—Owen had just seen more of my dark, violent one than I had of his.

He finally sighed. “Ask away. I know you want to.”

“You and Salina?”

He nodded. “Me and Salina.”

“How long ago?”

“A lifetime,” he murmured. “Maybe two.”

I waited for him to go on, to talk about how they’d met, the time they’d spent together, or even why they’d broken up. He didn’t say anything, but his face, his whole body, was tight and tense with emotion—with pain. Whatever had happened between them, it hadn’t ended well. Still, I kept quiet, waiting for Owen to tell me about them in his own way, in his own time. That’s what he’d done for me when I’d run into Donovan while on vacation in Blue Marsh. I figured I owed Owen the same courtesy.