No. Lucy might, but Declan doesn’t. Right?
I clear my throat and lightly knock on the doorframe.
“Look who it is,” Lucy says. “Our mysterious, curious crow.” Her tone’s flat. I can’t tell if she’s teasing me or annoyed I’m intruding.
“Not that mysterious but definitely curious,” I joke.
Declan’s gaze roams over me, a slow, appreciative smile spreading over his face. Our eyes meet and I swear a jolt of electricity rocks me down to my toes. “Give us a minute, Lucy,” he says without taking his eyes off me.
“Cute dress,” she says as she brushes past me.
“Thanks.”
She closes the door behind her and Declan steps closer. I meet him halfway.
He rests his hands on my hips. “You were wearing that the day we met.”
Heat floods my cheeks. He remembers my dress? “I, uh, it’s the only thing I had that felt costume-y for tonight.”
“I like it.” His brows pinch together. “You said you were going to wear pants, though. Will you be warm enough tonight?”
I rub my hands over my thighs. “My tights are lined with fleece. They’re pretty warm.”
As his gaze follows the path of my hands, he bites his bottom lip. “I’ll do my best not to stare at your legs all night.”
“Oh, so you’re a leg man too?”
He snorts and shakes his head. “I told you, I’m anEmeryman. All of your parts are lovely, but I like the whole package.” He circles his hand in front of my face.
I reach out and grab his wrist, tugging hard—not that I could move him even if I used every ounce of my strength. “Prove it.”
Laughing, he picks me up and smashes his lips against mine. The sheaf of papers in his hand rustles at my back as he presses me against the door. I lean in, kissing him just as hard.
A warm and probably foolish delight spreads through my chest. It’s dangerous to get too attached to this man.
But I keep kissing him anyway.
Knuckles rap on the door. “It’s time, Declan!” Lucy shouts.
He sighs and slowly lowers me until my feet touch the floor. “I’m never excited about doing this, but even more so this year.” He lifts my arm, pushing my sleeve up to inspect the green mark.
“No glowing or shimmering,” I report. “It’s been surprisingly quiet this afternoon.”
His frown deepens. “Interesting.”
“Good interesting, or bad interesting?”
“I’m not sure.” He shifts his gaze to the door, but his thoughts seem farther away. “You’ll be with me. Surrounded by people tonight. He wouldn’t dare,” Declan mutters.
“He? Oh, the Rider. Gotcha.”
“You’re still wearing your pendant?”
I tap my fingers over the iron key nestled against my chest under the high-necked dress. “Yup.”
“Okay.” He hands me the papers and opens the door.
I glance at the first page. It seems to be a script. Notes scribbled in the margins, lines highlighted. “Is this…for theSlayride?”
