Page 207 of The Devil May Care

“I didn’t say I don’t want it,” I murmur.

“I know.” He reaches across the table, slow and deliberate, and brushes a crumb from the corner of my mouth. “I will give you anything I can. You do not even need to ask.”

The silence that follows feels different. Warmer. Less like something to fill and more like something we’ve forged together. The taste of the food fades. The lanterns feel warmer than they should. And Caziel is closer than I remember, not quite touching me, but near enough that it’s dizzying. I’m not sure when the air changed. When the night softened into something quieter. More dangerous.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

“Because you’re real,” he says. “And I keep forgetting what that feels like.”

I do not have a good answer for that. My chest aches like an echo. Something old, and hollowed out, and just beginning to fill again. I drop my gaze from his, but that only makes it worse. He’s leaning forward now. One arm braced on the low table, the other resting on his knee. His shirt has slipped open more, and there—just above his heart—glows the faintest trace of embermark. Not the full flare, not the overwhelming fire, just a low thrum. Like it’s listening. Or… responding.

I feel it again, that tug, low in my sternum. Like gravity tipped sideways and chose him instead. It’s not physical, not really. But it still makes me lean, almost involuntarily.

“Caziel…”

He doesn’t move. Just watches. Letting me come to him.

The moment stretches, soft and taut all at once, until the ache insideme folds into something reckless. And I cross the space between us.

It’s not a dramatic kiss. Not rushed or heated. Just true. My lips press to his, and for a second, he doesn’t even react. Like he’s waiting to see if it’s real.

Then he breathes in—and everything changes.

His hand slides to my jaw, fingers warm and firm, guiding but not forcing. He kisses me back with restraint I didn’t know he had, holding me like I’m already breaking and he’s trying to memorize me before I do. His mouth is soft at first, then hungry. His other hand curls behind my back, drawing me into his lap so smoothly I don’t realize I’ve moved until I’m straddling him, knees to either side, my body flush against his.

The kiss deepens, and the flame reacts—low and silent, but there. A hum beneath my skin. A warmth that has nothing to do with the night air. It feels like we’re being watched, not by eyes, but by Crimson itself. But I don’t stop. His tongue brushes mine and I gasp, arms tightening around his shoulders. He kisses like he means it. Like he’s trying to burn the world down just to build something in its place. I rock my hips over his. And he pulls back. Just enough to breathe.

“Say no,” he whispers.

“What?”

His hand is on my back, steadying me. “Please. Just say no. Tell me to stop.”

I blink. “I don’t want to.” I lean in, trying to catch his lips again and he stops me, his grip firm on the curve of my hip.

“I know.” His voice is rough even as he lets his mouth brush mine. “But I need you to.”

I shake my head, confused, breathless. “Caz, I’m here. I kissed you. Why are you—?”

“Because there was a time,” he says, “when you didn’t.” I go still. His hand drops. Not away, not like he’s letting go. Just… resting. Open. Leaving me a way out. “In the trial,” he says quietly. “There was a version of me. Not real. Not me. And it didn’t stop. Even when you begged.”

I look away, throat closing.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It is now,” he says. “Because I know. And I remember. And if there’s even a sliver of that fear in you, I won’t touch you again.”

I should argue. Should make a joke. Should say something cutting orsarcastic to fill the space. I don’t

“Stop.”

He exhales like it hurts. Nods once. And gently, he lifts me off his lap, setting me down beside him like I’m made of glass and still the most dangerous thing in the room. Fragile, not like a flower. But like a bomb. I wipe at my face, furious to find tears there.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I did.” He leans back, arms wide. “You’re not mine, Kay. Not unless you choose to be.” My heart lurches as he looks over at me, soft and steady. “But if you do… I’d like to do this right.”

I laugh once, shaky. “You’re proposing a…date?”