Kate Daniels 05.5 - Magic Gifts

in their thirties laughed too loud - probably tipsy. On the other side a family with two teenage daughters cooked their food on the grill. The older girl looked a bit like Julie, my ward. Two business women, another family with a toddler, and an older couple rounded off the patrons. No threats.
    The air swirled with delicious aroma of meat seared over open fire, cooked garlic, and sweet spice. My mouth watered. I hadn't eaten since grabbing some bread this morning from a street vendor. My stomach actually hurt.
    A waiter in a plain black pants and a black T-shirt led us to a table in the middle of the floor. Curran and I took chairs opposite one another - I could see the back door and he had a nice view of the front entrance. We ordered hot tea. Thirty seconds later it arrived with a plate of pot stickers.
    "Hungry?" Curran asked.
    "Starving."
    "Combination platter for four," Curran ordered.
    His hungry and my hungry were two different things.
    The waiter departed.
    Curran smiled. It was a happy genuine smile and it catapulted him from attractive into irresistible territory. He didn't smile very often in public. That intimate smile was usually reserved for private moments when we were alone.
    I reached over, pulled the band off my still damp braid, and slid my fingers through it, unraveling the hair. Curran's gaze snagged on my hands. He focused on my fingers like a cat on a piece of foil pulled by a string. I shook my head and my hair fell over my shoulders in a long dark wave. There we go. Now we were both private in public.
    Tiny gold sparks danced in Curran's grey irises. He was thinking dirty thoughts and the wicked edge in his smile made me want to slide next to him and touch him.
    We had to wait. I was pretty sure that having hot sex on the floor of Arirang would get us banned for life. Then again, it might be worth it.
    I raised my tea in a salute. "To our date."
    He raised his cup and we clinked them gently against each other.
    "So how was your day?" he asked.
    "First, I chased a giant jellyfish around through some suburbs. Then I argued with Biohazard about coming and picking it up, because they claimed it was a Fish and Game issue. Then I called Fish and Game and conferenced them in on the Biohazard call, and then I got to listen to the two of them argue and call each other names. They got really creative."
    "Then Jim called," Curran said.
    I grimaced. "Yes. That too."
    "Is there a particular reason you're avoiding our chief of security?" Curran asked.
    "Do you remember how my aunt killed the head of the Mercenary Guild?"
    "Not something one forgets," he said.
    "They're still squabbling over who will be in charge."
    Curran glanced at me. "That was what, five months ago?"
    "My point exactly. On one side there are the older mercs, who have experience. On the other side there is the support staff. Both groups have roughly an equal share of the Guild as a result of Solomon's will and they hate each other. It's getting into death threat territory, so they're having some sort of final arbitration to decide who's in charge."
    "Except they are deadlocked," Curran guessed.
    "Yes, they are. Apparently Jim thinks that I'm supposed to break that tie."
    The Guild's now dead founder was a closet shapeshifter. He left twenty percent of the Guild to the Pack. As long as the Mercenary Guild remained deadlocked, nobody was getting paid and the Pack alphas wanted that income stream to start flowing again. They put pressure on Jim, and Jim put pressure on me.
    I did enough years in the Guild to be viewed as a veteran. Jim did enough years just as well, but unlike me, he had the luxury of keeping his identity semi-private. Most mercs didn't know he was high up in the Pack.
    I had no privacy. I was the Pack Consort. It was the price I paid for being with Curran, but I didn't have to like it.
    His Majesty drank his tea. "Not looking forward to settling the dispute?"
    "I'd rather eat dirt. It's between Mark and the veterans led by the Four Horsemen, and they despise each other. They aren't interested in reaching a consensus. They just want to throw mud at each other over a conference table."
    An evil light sparked in his eyes. "You could always go for Plan B."
    "Pound everyone to a bloody pulp until they shut up and cooperate?"
    "Exactly."
    It would make me feel better. "I could always do it your way instead."
    Curran raised his blond eyebrows.
    "Roar until everyone pees themselves."
    A shadow of self-satisfaction flickered on