Page 97 of The Devil May Care

Then door slams open, and I know it’s him even before I hear his voice.

His footsteps are thunder.

“Where is she?” Sarai doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. Caziel crosses the room in seconds, and then he’s kneeling in front of me. “Kay.” His voice is low and sharp. Not angry, almost panicked. “Easy,sæl.You’re trembling.”

“I’m fine,” At least that’s what I try to say. My teeth chatter through each syllable.

“You’re not.” His hand brushes my cheek, and I feel the restraint in his fingers—how badly he wants to gather me close. “You’re overheating. She needs cold water.”

Sarai is already moving, dragging a basin out of the washroom, filling it from a chilled tap I’ve literally never seen before with practiced urgency. I’ll have to ask about the water. Later. When I’m done melting.

“I can do it,” I say, trying to rise.

Caziel presses me gently down, I swear his fingers trace something against my back. It both helps anchor me and makes me want to whimper, “Let us help.”

The fire still whispers under my skin like it hasn’t left. Sweat beads on my brow, dripping off the end of my nose. I try for a nod, closing my eyes against the wave of heat. Caziel moves behind me.

“We need to get this off.” His fingers brush the clasp of my robes at the shoulder. “May I?” I think I nod, but I can’t be sure. He unfastens the garment slowly, reverently, like he’s afraid he’ll hurt me. I swallow back a bark of laughter. He could run me through with a blade and I doubt it would hurt worse. The fabric sticks to my back. Possibly from sweat, or maybe my skin is melting off. When he eases it down, I hiss in pain.

“Oh gods,” Sarai breathes.

“What?” I rasp.

Caziel says something low and dark under his breath. Daemari might not be a language I know, but cursing is universal. “It’s spreading.”

I twist to look, but Caziel catches my chin. His eyes are dark. Darker than I remember. There’s no whites at all, just deep, fathomless, heat. “Stay still. Please.”

The robe comes away, and the cool air hits my skin, but it doesn’t help. It feels like someone carved open my spine and poured the sun inside. Then I feel his hands again. Steady. Gentle. Lifting me. I expect him to carry me to the bath. He doesn’t. Caz sits down with me in his lap, holding me close as Sarai pours water into the basin. My skin is blazing hot against his chest. But he doesn’t let go. Doesn’t flinch.

“You shouldn’t touch me,” I whisper. “I could burn you.”

“Burn me. I’m not afraid of fire,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over my hair. “Besides, it’s a bit late to worry about that outcome. I’m pretty sure you already did.”

I consider an apology, but it melts out of my brain before I can commit.

Sarai finishes filling the tub. “My Lord. The bath. Now.”

Caziel stands and walks me to it. I feel him unhook the last of the robe, and then coolness wraps around me as he lowers me into the water. I gasp. My teeth chatter and ache against the frigid rush. It hurts, but it also helps. The pain fades from burning to aching. My fingers finally uncurl. Steam drifts up around me and still I cling to Caziel.

I sink deeper, and Sarai kneels beside me, her hands moving to check my back again. She freezes.

“My Lord,” she says. He’s still in front of me, my face cradled against his stomach, blocking out the light. Still watching me like the world might break apart if he looks away. Sarai’s hand hovers just above my spine. “The mark… it’s not just spreading. It’s shifting. Alive.”

His grip seems to tighten. “Describe it.”

“Wings,” she whispers. “Or fire pretending to be wings. Shoulder to shoulder. It’s like it’s watching me.”

A long silence.

Then Caziel murmurs, “It chose her. Fully.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, throat raw. Finding the words is a challenge but I force them anyway.

He lowers to one knee again, his fingers brushing the edge of myarm just above the water. “It means,” he says quietly, “you’re not just an anomaly anymore.”

“You’re officially a contender.” Sarai brushes a hair off my soaked temple.

I look at them both, eyes stinging, body trembling. “But I don’t want to”