“It’s not,” I said, but my fingers seemed to disagree, because they closed around his shirtfront as if trying to draw him closer.
His lids dropped. “Careful.” He made the word into a mouthful of warm honey.
Careful. It was probably the most honest thing he’d ever said to me, a word to heed, but my body had apparently undergone a spectacular divorce from logic. I quivered inside, my breath a ragged starburst, and didn’t let go of his shirt.
“If you keep looking at me like that,” he said, “I might have to do something about it.”
I missed a beat, then another. “Do something? Like what?”
“Well, I had no plans to kiss you tonight. But I could absolutely be prevailed upon to change my mind.”
Hot needles swarmed in my gut. My eyes dropped to his mouth. He would taste like apples, I was sure. Sweet and crisp and delicious. Except...no. He was awful. The very idea was awful, and I hated everything about it. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth.”
“No? Then why did you come?” His mouth snuck up at the edge, that tug pulling a corresponding hitch from my chest. Gah. No matter what else he was, he truly was beautiful. Annoyingly, disgustingly so. “Were you in it for the sparkling conversation? The free ale? Or did you intend to stare at my mouth all night and pretend not to find it interesting?”
I swallowed a shaky breath and heaved my eyes up to his. With more effort than it should’ve taken, I unhanded his shirt and shoved.
Except he didn’t move. His arms circled me like hot iron bands.
My heartbeat expanded to claim my whole body. Sweet Zephyrine, how had we ended up here? I’d meant this to be an investigation, yet I hadn’t asked a single question. I’d gotten distracted. Drunk on gorgeous eyes and a soft, inviting mouth.
And booze. Yes, definitely the booze.
“Don’t read anything into this,” I said. “I only came because I wanted to know about Vick.”
“Vick?” Kyven’s gaze thinned. “What do you care about him for? Don’t tell me you’d ratherhekiss you?”
I made a face. “No, of course not. I hate him.”
“The same way you hate me?”
“More.” I shook my head. “Or...no, less. Obviously less, because I hate you most of all. Goddess, would you stopdoingthat?”
“Doing what?”
“Asking loaded questions.” I pushed again, and this time he released me. “Ones that damn me no matter which way I answer.”
“If a mere question can damn you,” he said, “maybe it’s time for some self-reflection.”
I stemmed a gasp. “You’re horrible.”
“Come, now. I don’t think you actually mean that.”
I gaped, mostly to cover up the fact that some twisted part of me was busy sighing in agreement. Seven hells, what was happening? I needed to get away from him before I said something I’d regret.
So I whirled and stomped off, not bothering to circumvent the other dancers. I just stampeded through, shearing couples in half, ignoring the hisses and hard looks my flight earned me.
Kyven caught up to me at the edge of the dancefloor, grabbing my hand and whirling me around. The look on his face—triumphant, almost predatory, had me backing away until my shoulders hit the wall.
Which proved to be a mistake. He surged close, trapping me with a palm splayed beside my head.
My breathing spiraled from my control. Goddess, he smelled so maddeningly familiar. He looked it, too, and I wished I didn’t know every sound he made in his sleep, the exact texture of the drowsy chuckle he sometimes did in his dreams. Or that if I unbuttoned his collar and pushed it aside, I’d find a birthmark under his left collarbone, a pale splotch in the shape of a half-moon.
What had Olivian been thinking, sticking me with him? Then again, the seneschal had warned me against temptation, and I’d been haughty enough to declare myself above it.
Which had obviously been incredibly fucking stupid.
Kyven leaned down. “Do you want to know what I think?”
