Something in his tone, in the way his eyes tracked over her face, made her realize how close they were. When had he gotten so close? She could see the scales along his throat catch the light, could smell something like smoke and copper on his skin.
"You're angry," he observed, voice dropping lower. "Furious at them. At him. At yourself. Good. Anger is so much more interesting than despair."
"Stop psychoanalyzing me."
"Stop letting others do your thinking for you."
The words hit like a slap. Before she could think better of it, she shoved him. Hard. He barely moved, but his smile widened, showing teeth that were just a little too sharp.
"There she is," he murmured. "The woman who threw a hairpin at a dying creature rather than leave him to his fate. Who survived the hunt. Who just told five of the most powerful beings in this realm to fuck off."
"I didn't say—"
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle like Arion's had been, wasn't demanding like Eliam's. It was something else entirely—hot and dangerous and tasting of smoke. For a moment, she leanedinto it, into the simple fact of someone taking what they wanted without asking permission, without treating her like glass.
Then reality crashed back. She shoved him away, harder this time, and he let her. He was watching her with those inhuman eyes, a knowing tilt to his mouth.
"You kissed me back," he observed.
"You—" She was breathing hard, fury and something else making her skin feel too tight. "You can't just—"
"Can't I?" He touched his lips thoughtfully. "I wanted to. So I did. That's what making choices looks like."
"That's not—"
"You're attracted to me." It wasn't a question. "Probably because I'm the only one not trying to save you. Or maybe because I'm dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with politics or magical bonds. Either way, you want to kiss me again."
"You're delusional."
"Am I?" He moved closer again, but didn't touch. Just stood there, radiating heat and danger and absolute certainty. "Then walk away. Go back to your room like you said you would. Let them finish deciding your fate while you wait like a good little human."
The mockery in his voice made her vision red at the edges.
"Or," he continued, voice dropping to something almost intimate, "you could make a choice. One they'd never make for you. One that's entirely, destructively yours."
"You're trying to manipulate me."
"I'm trying to fuck you," he said bluntly. "But only if you choose it. I don't take anything that isn't freely given." His smile turned sharp again. "Unlike everyone else in your life."
His words hung between them, brutal in their honesty. No pretty phrases about protection or what was best for her. Just raw, simple want and the choice to act on it or not.
The fire in her chest hadn't cooled. If anything, it burned hotter, looking for something to destroy. Or someone to destroy her. Frederick trembled against her neck, then suddenly his cool presence was gone—she caught a glimpse of his tiny bubble disappearing into the nearest water feature, abandoning her to her choices.
Without giving herself time to reconsider, Briar grabbed the front of Karse’s shirt and pulled him down, crushing her mouth to his with all the fury and frustration ofthe last few days. This kiss was nothing like the first. This time it was her claiming something, even if that something was a terrible decision.
He made a sound that fell somewhere between satisfaction and surprise, his hands coming to her waist, pulling her against him. The heat radiating off of him was almost unbearable, like standing too close to a forge, but she didn't pull back. She bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and tasted copper.
"Finally," he said against her mouth, "you're making a choice."
The garden terrace suddenly felt too exposed. Karse backed her against one of the stone pillars, his body caging hers, and she could feel the barely controlled violence in the way he held himself—like a predator deciding whether to play with its food or devour it whole.
"Your room or mine?" he asked his teeth grazing her throat.
"Here's fine," she gasped and felt him smile—sharp and pleased.
"The exhibitionist emerges." His hands found the laces of her dress, pulling with deliberate slowness. "How unexpected."
