Page 228 of The Devil May Care

The surface of the water stirs between us, catching and reflecting the light from below. I swear it pulses in time with my heartbeat. He lifts our joined hands and presses them, wet and open-palmed, to his chest—right over the crackling burn of his brand. My skin tingles where our hands meet, warmth pooling into my fingers.

The water curls warm around my waist, steam drifting like breath from the spring’s surface. Caziel stands beside me, silent, watching. I don’t think he realizes he’s holding his breath. I glance at him—at the shadows of his horns, the dark shimmer of his Embermark, the unreadable expression in his eyes.

And then I do the only thing I can think to do and I sink deep below the surface. Heat folds over me as I drop, weightless, into the glow-lit depths. The spring is shallow enough to feel the stone beneath my knees, deep enough to disappear for a moment. When I surface again, he’s still standing there, startled, eyebrows raised, droplets glistening on his shoulders.

I grin. “You coming, or just going to stand there brooding like a tragic statue?”

He huffs a breath—maybe a laugh—and reaches for me again. “I thought you might need a moment.”

“Too many moments. Not enough movement.”

I swim closer until the space between us disappears. Steam blurs the world beyond his shoulders, and the red glow of the flame beneath us makes his eyes brighter than ever. I reach up, fingers trailing down his chest. “I’m not fragile, Caz.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want this because you brought me here. I want this because I want you.”

He exhales, jaw shifting slightly. “Kay—”

“Unless you don’t want me?”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “We both know that’s not it..”

“Then stop looking at me like you’re about to explode and kiss me again.”

He doesn’t move. So I do. I push up, hands curling behind his neck, and I kiss him—harder this time, like I’m staking a claim of my own. His arms snap around me like instinct, hauling me into him, lifting meeffortlessly as my legs wrap around his waist beneath the water. His tail slips between my thighs, boosting me even higher.

This is different. Not softer. Not rougher. Real. He breaks the kiss, breath ragged, forehead against mine.

“You still have an out,” he says. “One word and I’ll stop.”

“Why are you always trying to give me outs?”

“Because the moment I stop offering them, I won’t be able to let you go.”

A beat. A breath.

“Good,” I whisper. “Then don’t.”

The water hushes around us. Not cold. Not hot. Perfect. The faint flicker of my Embermark hums beneath my skin like a second pulse, like it’s awake for the first time in weeks. Caziel watches me. Not the way a man watches a woman—though he’s that, too—but like he’s afraid to breathe. Like any movement might break the spell holding me here. And I understand now. This wasn’t about seduction or pleasure. He didn’t bring me here to claim anything.

He brought me here to offer something. I lower my gaze and try to still the trembling in my hands. It’s not fear. It’s something quieter, deeper—like I’m standing at the edge of something holy, and if I move too fast I’ll scare it off. This moment isn’t part of the Rite. It doesn’t belong to Crimson or to any realm.

It’s just us.

“I’ve never seen you this quiet,” I whisper, half-smiling.

Caziel’s expression softens. “You’ve never scared me this much.”

That startles a laugh out of me. “Me?”

“You.”

The silence falls again, but it’s not empty. There’s weight in it. Intention. I push my hair back from my face, throat dry.

“I should say something clever right now.”

“You don’t have to.”