“That’s alright, I don’t need to rely on my abilities to know when you’re full of shit,” I said, referencing his earlier claim.
“Is that so?” he murmured, moving closer.
My breath hitched in my throat, and I was abruptly aware of my thrumming pulse and clammy palms. Heat rushed to my face. We were alone on the terrace.
“Do you know what I think?” he asked.
Every thought and scheme fled from my head at his proximity. There was only his heady scent, his undeniable presence, the crushing heat of his eyes on mine.
Eyes I might very well drown in.
“I think,” he whispered, his voice humming with dark intensity, “that for all the deadly Daemons in attendance, you might be the most dangerous thing at this party.”
I couldn’t formulate a reply.
Dark lashes shadowed his cheekbones as he lowered his gaze to my lips, and I knew with certainty that for all his pretty words, I wasn’t the most dangerous thing here tonight. Not even close. Casimir had never seemed more terrifying to me than in that moment. I dreaded the way he could, with a single glance, plunder the darkest regions of my soul without uttering a word. He was a cartographer who didn’t need a map to decipher my thoughts. It unsettled me, the way his eyes stalked me with predatory precision, like twin flames set starkly against his velvetcurls, bright stars in an endlessly unfolding expanse of darkness.
I wanted him to kiss me.
I wanted him to kiss me even if it was the worst thing he could do.
Andoh, this was a dangerous trespass, and not just because I couldn’t taste Casimir’s lies or believe his promises. He was a Darkseer with the power to infiltrate my mind and wield my memories like weapons. Casimir’s exterior was cool and indestructible, like marble. And if he was marble, I was glass. Fragile and paper-thin. If we collided, he’d break me all too easily.
I stopped breathing when his lips crashed against mine.
Kissing Casimir wasn’t like kissing anyone else. My encounters with August had been frantic and heated, a hurried clash of tongues and teeth. Always hidden, ever rushed—stolen moments between the stacks or in an empty corridor. August was constantly afraid of being seen, and so we kept to the shadows.
No, kissing Casimir filled me with an entirely new kind of terror, both more intoxicating and more deadly than anything I’d ever experienced. I’d shattered myself against the rocky shores of August’s heart, heedless of how I’d warped and twisted myself into a wraith. Then I’d met Casimir. Tonight, for the first time in so long, I was in danger of combusting—of losing myself in the sensation of his lips on mine. Only as I unfurled and melted like liquid gold in his arms did I realize how heavily the last few months weighed on my bones.
Who’s to say he won’t destroy you in the process?August’s words echoed in the back of my mind with the force of a drum, but this time they became a litany that I clung to. Fine, I thought. If this is what destruction feels like, then so be it.
Casimir’s hands on me brought me back to the fiery present. His fingers threaded through my hair, using his grip as leverage to angle me closer, and I unraveled entirely.
I became an imploding star in his arms, a smoldering celestial body,threatening to burn into atomic dust. I should have drawn back while there was still some of me left to spare, but it was my decision, wasn’t it? Even if it was the wrong thing to do, even if it hurt me, self-destruction was a choice. I was so sick of the men in my life trying to force my hand. And so, I allowed myself to burn. Curving my body so it was flush with his, I dragged a hand through his dark curls and reveled in the sweetness of his tongue, imagining all the lies I would never get to taste.
Something of my unleashing must have burned through because Casimir pulled away suddenly, his expression raw, like scorched earth. His eyes were glazed over as he staggered back several paces. I had never seen him look so… unguarded. I gazed up at him, for once not caring that my expression was, too, wholly laid bare, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I took a step toward him, wanting to close the distance he’d created between us once more?—
“Arden,” he murmured.
A warning.
I turned to watch as the Bloodthorn Order stepped out onto the veranda.
18
They entered with such silent, synchronous beauty that for a moment, I forgot to be afraid.
I swayed on my feet. Did that just happen? Dread crashed down around me, obliterating the dazed, heady memory of the kiss.
Casimir hissed in my ear, “Remember that they can glamour you. Be on your guard.”
I nodded. Every cell in my body surged with electric awareness. It was impossible not to stare as they approached. Always stunning, tonight the Daemons of the Bloodthorn Order were positively preening with shimmering elegance. Devereaux’s charcoal suit, accented with silver buttons and matching cufflinks, complemented his cornsilk blonde hair, which hung in sleek tendrils around his neck.
A fluttering movement caught my attention, and my gaze landed on the pale blue wings of a butterfly, pinned to Devereaux’s lapel. I stared in horror at the struggling creature as bile burned its way up my throat.
Behind Devereaux, someone snickered. It was Evren, his cruel beauty rendered even more dashing in a velvet suit of forestgreen, the formal alternative to the one he’d worn in Norlander Hall. Veronika was swathed in shimmering silver, her hair cutting a sharp line against her jaw.