Zara’s lips flick up. “I could open your throat right now if I wanted,” she says, voice strained. “But your death lies at the bottom of the sea. Your soul a gift to the ocean in payment for the one you stole.”
He presses harder against her neck, but she does the same with the blade. My heart twists as a rivulet of crimson runs down to his black collar.
“If I must end your life here, I will,” she says. “I can cut you faster than you can choke me. You know I can. Besides, there’s something I want from Maisie first.”
“Leave her out of this,” he growls, pressing her throat again and receiving a deepening gash in return.
Panic has my heart feeling like it will explode. “Stop! Please!”
“I’ll let him go,” Zara chokes out. “I promise.” What she says can’t be a lie, since she’s in her normal form. She can only lie when she’s mimicking someone else, and only for the sake of the act.
I frantically nod. “Then do it already!”
She makes no move. “I promise to let Dorian go. I’ll even release my dagger to the floor. But only if you do one thing for me.”
“What?”
Her lips pull into a wide, toothy smile. “Tell Dorian why you came here. Tell him about your little bargain.”
Tremors rack my body, and any possible response is burned away as Dorian slowly slides his gaze to mine. That’s all the distraction Zara needs. She lunges off the wall, thrusts her blade—
“I promise!” The words erupt from my throat in a shout. “I promise. I do. I’ll tell him right now. Just let him go.”
Zara lifts her chin. As agreed, she lowers her dagger and drops it to the floor.
Dorian looks from Zara to me, as if debating whether to take his opportunity to end her now that he has the upper hand.
“Attack me again and the deal is off,” Zara says. “But believe me. You’re going to want to hear this.”
He furrows his brow and takes a step back, shoulders tense.
I hug my arms to my chest.
And tell the truth.
38
The truth is a cold thing. The room is sapped of warmth, eradicating the heat that once stood between me and Dorian, like it was never there at all. Now all I see is his icy stare, feel his chilling whisper. “You were sent here to kill me,” he says.
“Yes.” My voice breaks, the single syllable like an iron thorn twisting inside my heart.
His expression shifts, lashed with pain. “Tokillme.”
“Yes.”
“How were you planning to do it?” he asks, chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm.
I bite my lip, knowing what I say next will hurt him even more. “I was supposed to kiss you.”
“Kiss me?”
“My kiss…is lethal.”
He takes a step back and runs a hand over his face, but it doesn’t wipe away the agonized look in his eyes. “Our first date in the parlor, when you leaned in to kiss me…that was you trying to end my life.”
“I regret it,” I say, my voice warbling. “Everything inside me burns with regret.”
“You didn’t stop there, though, did you? Every time we were alone together, you were just trying to get close enough to murder me. And here I was, a total fool, thinking you wanted to kiss me for pleasure, not death. Thinking I wanted to kiss you.” He pauses, brows knitting together as he studies me. Not with that intent desiring gaze I’ve grown to love, but one full of terror. Disgust. “Nothing that I thought was between us was real.”
