“And wouldn’t that be inconvenient for you.” To her relief, the nausea was already fading.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Itwouldbe inconvenient, but—”
“I know you’re only worried because of what you need me to do for you, Durante. Otherwise it’d make no difference to you whether I was dead or alive.”
For some reason, Zaria realized belatedly, the accusation had been a mistake. Kane’s eyes flashed, looking too large in the shadow-carved gauntness of his face.
“Nodifference?” he hissed. “Zaria, all I’ve done all week is try to keep you alive. What do my intentions matter? Why can’t you just saythank you?”
They were good questions, and she resented that fact. Why did she care about Kane’s reason for protecting her when what mattered was that he had? She suddenly felt very foolish. The dip in her stomach whenever he was near—like she was standing on a precipice overlooking some great height—was ill-advised. He was unbearable and dangerous. So why did she feel contorted into knots, full of held-breath anticipation as she waited for him to admit that therewasanother reason he kept saving her life?
For a moment, she thought he might do just that. His throat worked as he swallowed, and his focus on her intensified. But then he sighed, dragging fingers through his hair, and shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. If you can’t take care of yourself, Fletcher is the one who’ll suffer in the end.”
Something inside Zaria soured. Right. This was aboutFletcher. She blinked furiously back at Kane, her head finally clearing as she said, “So I’ve heard. And whose fault is that?”
“You think I wanted this?” Kane’s voice was barely audible. It was more frightening than if he’d yelled. He relit the candle, then a second one. The flames flickered, turning his face skeletal. “You think it doesn’t eat me alive? There isnothingI wouldn’t do for Fletcher. Nothing.”
“I thought you didn’t care about death,” Zaria scoffed. “Cecile’s certainly didn’t bother you.”
“Cecile meant nothing to me.”
“You’re sick.”
Kane took another slow step forward. “And what about you? You hadn’t seen her in years. Were you truly weeping for her loss, or was it merely that her death meant you no longer had a way of getting what you wanted?”
The sensation of weakness faded, leaving Zaria with nothing but a burning fury. Kane didn’t know her. He hadn’t known the reasons Cecile was important to her or that Zariahadgotten what she wanted in the end. He didn’t understand that for a few blissful moments she had finally,finally, felt a little less alone.
“Fuck you, Kane,” she whispered.
He stood directly before her now, lithe and motionless as a specter. His teeth flashed as he gave a single, dismissive laugh. “You’ve convinced yourself that I’m callous, but I’m simply selective when it comes to other people. You’re the same, aren’t you? We both have one person we’d sacrifice everything for, and anyone else just gets in the way.”
“What exactly are you sacrificing, Kane? Everythingyoudo”—Zaria thrust a finger at his chest—“is to undo the damage you’ve already caused. So you can delude yourself into believing you’re not ashitperson who lies to anyone who’s ever attempted to care about you.”
She didn’t know what made her say it. Perhaps it was the conversation she’d had with Fletcher and how he so desperately wanted Zaria to give Kane more grace than he deserved. Perhaps it was the expression on Jules’s face when she’d left the pawnshop last night. Perhaps she merely wanted to see Kane hurt.
It must have worked, because something shuttered behind his eyes. They looked amber tonight, the same color and equally liquid as the whiskey he so often smelled like. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Why that muscle ticked in his jaw. There was anunfamiliar hesitance in his body language as he searched her face, but there was also a certainhungerabout him. She tensed, unable to stop her breath from turning shallow.
“You’re treading dangerous ground, Miss Mendoza,” Kane breathed. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body. Saw the brief flick of his gaze down to her mouth, then back up again.
“And?” She challenged him, an animal hunger of her own clawing its way up her insides. Her skin was hot. Too hot. The fire between them burned from fury to lust until the two were all but indistinguishable. Kane lowered his face to hers, pulse fluttering in his throat as his jaw tensed, neck going taut. Zaria didn’t move an inch.
It was nonsensical. She hated Kane in that moment. Shehatedhim, and there was no part of him that was not wrong for her.
But she couldn’t help the disappointment that lanced through her when he began to back away again.
“Coward,” she hissed.
That was when he lunged and pulled her face to his.
Kane kissed her with feverish intensity, and Zaria didn’t stop him. Her body went slack as he shoved her against the wall, his hand sliding up her rib cage and trailing over her shoulder to rest at her throat. Kissing Kane was not gentle. It was grasping fingers and bruising touch and the delicate skim of teeth. It was vicious collision and fury in the space between breathless gasps. It was the heady scent of smoke and the dizzying absence of all rational thought.
Kane’s mouth brushed her jaw, and he hooked a finger in the collar of her jacket, wrenching it aside. Cool air danced along the exposed stretch of her collarbone as his hand tightened on her neck. He wasbeautiful, this dangerous boy, and Zaria resented it. Resented the way he was soft and firm in all the right places as hepressed against her. Resented the chill that danced across her skin as the pressure of his touch nearly undid her.
“What was it you called me?” Kane exhaled the words against the hollow of her throat.
Zaria pulled her lips back from her teeth, utterly motionless.“Coward.”
Something rumbled in his chest—either a laugh or a growl—as he dragged his mouth back up to hers. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer, and lightning sparked behind her shuttered eyelids. Nothing existed that wasn’t Kane.
