Page 166 of The Devil May Care

Just that. No pressure. No pushing. It almost makes me cry.

“I keep thinking about how fast I fell for it,” I admit, my voice cracking. “How easy it was to believe you came running. That you’d heard me scream and just showed up. Like you always do.” He’s very still now. The quiet kind of still that says he’s holding something back. I think he’s trying not to interrupt, like I won’t get the rest out of he even breathes. I fold my arms tighter across my chest. “And I hate that it makes me second-guess everything. Because I want to trust you. But that… thing didn’t stop when I—and it looked like you. Sounded like you.”

Caziel exhales, barely audible, shoulders falling like they carry the weight of the world. He stands, moving toward the bed as if being closer will make this any easier.

“I don’t blame you,” I rush to say. “I know it wasn’t you. But now every time you look at me like that, part of me wonders if I made it all up. If you even want me like that. If I just—”

“Stop.” His voice is quiet but absolute. “Right there. Stop.”

The word hits like a slap and I flinch. He’s not loud, but his tone burns—low and harsh, with an edge I’ve never heard from him before. Caziel takes a step back like he needs distance. Like I’m the threat. My chest twists.

“I shouldn’t have told you. I know it wasn’t…. I’m sorry.” His brow furrows at my hushed confession. “I didn’t mean to bring you into it,” I rush on, heat crawling up my neck. “I didn’t even realize…. It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to drag you into the trial with my…with my own damn fantasies.”

He exhales through his nose, sharp. “Kay—”

“I know it was messed up.” I laugh, brittle. “You pulled away from me the other night because I crossed a line. And now I’m telling you I dreamed about you—used you, basically—and I just…. It’s fine.” A blow out a harsh breath, ruffling the stringy hair that’s fallen into my face.

“Stop.”

He says it again, but this time softer. Not angry, wrecked. He reaches for me, one hand spanning the space between us before he pulls is back to his side, looking down at his fingers like they don’t belong to him. His eyes burn like coals, black rimmed with flame, the glamor abandoning him. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost pleading.

“You did not drag me into anything. That was not your doing.”

“But it was,” I say quietly. “It was my want that called you into it, wasn’t it? That made the trial use your face? You didn’t ask for that. You pulled away, and then I dragged you back in anyway.”

“I do not care that it used me,” he growls, and now he is angry, but not at me. “I care that it hurt you. I care that it made you doubt yourself. Doubt me.”

I swallow, throat tight.

“I know you’re angry.” I mean the words to placate, but the tension grows.

“I am not,” His voice shudders down my spine. “I am devastated.” The words echo between us, his jaw clenching. “Because itwasme, in a way. Because I can see how real it was for you. I cannot stomach the thoughtthat Viridian, the Rite, used my face, my voice, to harm you, because the thought of causing you pain makes me want to plunge a blade through my own heart. Never pain,Sâl,not for you.”

“But you pulled back.” My voice cracks and I pray he doesn’t notice. “The other night, with the thread. I… and you…” I shake my head as if it can dislodge the memory of the rejection. I try to look away, but he steps forward, pinning me in place with his presence.

“You think I pulled back because I do not want to kiss you?” he asks, quiet now, intense.

“It’s probably just limerence.” I give him another out. “That’s what they call those war-time romances, right? High stakes? Adrenaline? All leading to confusion and passionate affairs? You’re the only person who made me feel—it doesn’t matter. It’ll fade with time, and I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have kept my mouth shut. I—”

“Kay,” his hands come forward as if he planned to wrap them around my wrists but thought better of it. “I pulled away because I had not yet dropped my glamor. All Daemari wear them, for us that is nothing new, but you still have not seen me. All of me, my true likeness, and you deserve to choose with your eyes open.”

I stare at him and for the first time, I see how tightly he is holding himself together. Like he’s afraid of tipping me, himself, this whole damn situation over the edge into free fall.

“Glamor” I laugh but it’s not funny. “I don’t need some perfect version of you Caziel. I’m not such a delicate flower that I can’t handle a little weird. I fell into your damn world through an elevator, made you fetch my cat, and now I’m surviving all your realms one at a time. I don’t care about your outer shell. That’s not what this is about.”

“The glamor” Caz tells me, his smile is sad, young. “Is the first magic Daemari learn to wield. It is like putting on clothing, dressing our nakedness. Our parents do it for us at first and when we first spark, we learn how. An unflavored Daemari is considered weak, incapable of drawing from the Flame.”

A snort leaves my nose, a honk of sound I desperately wish I could claw back down, but I can’t help it. Everything I know about the Asmodeus has been taught to me against my will, and I still can’t see him glamouring a little baby Caziel.

Caz’s smile is soft. “My mother taught me. Her name was etched into the record stones during my tenth year.”

“So not about tricking the poor lost human into complacency.” I did not think it was possible to be more embarrassed. But I am. Wow. I even made basic Crimson traditions all about me. “I’m sorry.”

“I look human, Kay, but I am not.” Caz’s voice seems to echo, not just in his room but in my head. “You might not like what you see.”

What a first-class idiot.

“Show me.”