Page 209 of The Devil May Care

I blink. “To me?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “They’re watching. And apparently, they’re choosing.”

Something about the way he says it makes my pulse quicken. But before I can ask what that means, he pulls something from the folds of his coat. A thread. Silver and gold. It shimmers faintly, like starlight seen through champagne.

“Argent,” he says. “You’ll need this next.”

I hesitate. “I don’t think I should keep taking things. I made it through Gilded without one. Maybe I can make it through this one too.”

He holds the thread a moment longer, then looks at me—serious now, but not unkind.

“Maybe,” he says. “But you don’t always have to walk alone.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

KAY

Caziel’s coat is warm around my shoulders, and I keep catching myself smiling like a fool. Like some lovesick idiot in a movie who doesn’t realize the montage is about to end. We walk slowly along the rooftop path, lanterns swinging overhead, their light catching on the smooth black stone and glowing like stars caught too close to earth. The air’s cooled since earlier—wind teasing at my bare calves and the edge of my braid—but I don’t mind. Not yet. He’s close beside me, not quite touching, but present. Tangible. His presence presses against my skin like a second heartbeat.

“I think,” I murmur, “this officially qualifies as the weirdest date I’ve ever been on.”

Caziel raises an eyebrow, his mouth tilted in that half-smirk he thinks doesn’t count as smiling.

“You’ve had others?”

“Sure,” I say. “Some real winners. One took me to a strip mall Red Lobster and told me he could see us raising kids together. On the first date.”

He makes a small, appalled sound. “Was that meant to be a compliment or a threat?”

“I still don’t know,” I say. “But your date-night etiquette is weirdly charming, so you win.”

There’s a pause—soft, easy. The kind that only comes when you’re notscared of silence.

Then he glances over, voice low. “Does this count? As a date?”

I freeze for half a second. My mouth says the first thing that pops into my head. “I mean… technically you did spoil me. Fed me. Complimented me. Gave me your coat. There were lanterns. If this isn’t a date, you’ve set a dangerous precedent.”

He hums. “Good.”

And just like that, my heart stumbles over itself.

We reach the stairwell leading back down, but neither of us moves to take it. I lean on the stone balustrade instead, hands curling around the carved edge. Below us, the Crimson Citadel sprawls—glowing veins of molten light running through its bones, as if the place is alive and breathing. Caziel steps up beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. Close. Solid. Not quite safe, but something just as dangerous.

“I never thought I’d get this,” I say quietly.

His head turns. “This?”

“This.” I gesture at the view. “Peace. You. A moment where no one’s testing me or threatening to flay me open with magic.”

“You deserve more than moments.”

I look at him—and God, I want to kiss him again. So I say the next stupid thing instead.

“You think you’re not charming, but you’ve got the whole protective demon prince thing down to an art.”

That gets the barest twitch of his mouth. “Only with you.”

And that—that—is the kind of thing that melts every defense I’ve ever built. I laugh to keep from combusting. “So I’m special.”