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To my dismay, Michal doesn’t seem surprised by the revelation. “He didn’t smell like a revenant.”

“No, he didn’t, but—Filippa doesn’t either.” I wince again, cursing myself for linking them even in theory. I just—I can’tthink. My throat burns anew at Michal’s proximity. Indeed, he stands close enough now for me to see the flicker of disappointment in his eyesbefore a bitter smile twists his lips. He knows I’m withholding something.

“Still a liar, I see.”

“Because you’re such a beacon of virtue.”

He laughs softly.

“As you insist.” Deceptively casual, he straightens, and the hair on my neck tingles in anticipation as I straighten too. Whatever Michal is about to do, I’m not going to like it—I’mnot. My fingers curl into my skirt as his slip beneath the desk.

“And it seems youdoinsist,” he says silkily. “From the moment we met, you decided I am the villain in this story, and nothing I do will ever change your mind, will it?” Though he tries to hide it now, his hurt still shines sharp as broken glass in his expression, and my stomach twists with inexplicable guilt. “Fine then, Célie. You win. We aren’t friends. Shall we have a game instead? You’ve always liked a question for a question, and far be it from me to deny you anything. I’ll go first, shall I?”

Before I can answer, he flicks the table aside like it weighs nothing, and it skids across the lacquered floor, scattering Odessa’s scrolls in a flurry of parchment. Leaving only empty air between us, and then—when he steps into that too, deliberately closing the distance—nothing at all. Jolting at the sound, I swoop to gather her papers, guilt spiking instantly to indignation. “Michal! Have a care! These belong to Odessa. You can’t just—”

“There you go again”—he looms over me as I kneel, entirely too close, tootall—“telling me what I can and cannot do. Why is that? I wonder. No one else claims such a privilege.”

I glare up at him from my knees, refusing to scramble away. “Perhaps you shouldn’t frighten everyone around you into submission.It isn’tquitethe boast you think it is, and furthermore, you aren’t particularly good at it anyway. I’m not afraid of you.” Unable to stop myself, I lash out for emphasis—to prove my point, to knock him back a step—yet his legs could’ve been made from tempered steel.

That wretched twist of his lips deepens to a smile.

“No, you aren’t afraid of me.” Crouching slowly, he pries the scrolls away and casts them behind us. His own hands are so much larger than mine. So much stronger. My mouth dries when he poises them so gently around my delicate, useless fingers. “You never have been. Now answer the question.”

“I didn’t agree to play this silly game.”

“I can think of a different one.” His eyes fall to my lips. “We don’t need to be friends to play it.”

I snatch my hands away, cheeks blistering and teeth throbbing. “This isn’t the time for games at all, and—andsomeoneneeds to tell you what to do, clearly.”

“And that someone is you?”

“I—I don’t know.” Now Idoscramble backward because Michal—he’s shifted closer, somehow, without me noticing. His knee nearly brushes my hip, and one hand winds languorously through the ends of my hair, his knuckles brushing the curve of my spine with each pass. Everything inside me tightens at that touch. Though I try to shake my head—to tell him no, I am not that someone, nothissomeone—instead my neck tips back without my permission. My mouth parts on an exhale, and my fangs—

Oh God.

Myfangs.

Humiliated, I lift a hand to hide them, jerking backward intothe desk, and one sharp point pierces my lower lip upon impact. It draws blood.Hisblood. Or—or is it my blood now? I don’tknow, but a wave of delicious heat crests through me at the taste of him. I shouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t relish the thought of his body in mine, the thought that I’ve—claimedsome small part of him, yet I do. And I have no choice but to watch helplessly as he rises with that terrible half smirk because he knows.

Heknows.

“How ironic.” He extends a hand, and when I take it, tentative, he hauls me to my feet—then tugs my fingers from my mouth, baring my fangs to his gaze. He stares at them without apology. He stares at the blood on my lips. “Here we are, the wicked and the righteous, yet I am the truthful one, and you are the liar.”

My stomach contracts near painfully when he presses his thumb to my lip, coaxing another bead of blood to appear. My voice becomes a whisper. “Why is this happening to me?”

“You’ve been taught not to listen to your body. You’ve been taught not to trust it. As a vampire, however, ignoring your anatomy is not only tragic, but also dangerous.”

But that’s ridiculous.Allof this is ridiculous, and— “I can’t justfeedon people whenever the urge strikes, Michal. I’m not like you. It isn’t right.”

“Why isn’t it right? I never said to kill them.”

“Because Iwillkill them! You saw what happened in the alley. I—I completely lost control. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I would’ve torn out Jean’s throat, and I would’ve doneworseto Brigitte. I wanted to do worse.”

He presses harder with his thumb. “And a great loss that would’ve been for all of us.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I resist the sudden urge to snap at him, to catch his thumb between my teeth andbitebecause—because that would be disturbing. Because people can’t just bite each other in the middle of a conversation. “You just said we shouldn’t kill—”

“What I said is the kill needn’t be inevitable. If you want to rend every Chasseur’s head from their shoulders, I’ll wholeheartedly support that endeavor—I’ll even help—but only the sickly and the starving lose control while they feed. So... yes, in this instance, I’ll concede your point. If I hadn’t arrived to pry the good captain from your arms, you would’ve killed him.” A pause as he lifts his thumb from my lip, as he glares at the brilliant scarlet he left behind.He hates it too, I realize in a bolt of clarity.The effect I have on him.