Page 137 of Of Flames and Fallacies

Our eyes link.

The light of this room is far too intimate. He clears his throat, and I take my hand out of his.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” He snorts, grabbing my forearm to steady me when I start to lean again. “I told you not to drink all of that.”

“No, I’m fineee,” I lie and try to school my features.

“Can you even walk?”

I try to playfully smack his arm and miss. Terribly. I jolt forward, and he catches me once more.

“I’m just really…really dizzy,” I finally admit. The more time that passes, the worse it seems to get.

With a sigh, he sweeps me off my feet and up into his arms. My breath catches in my throat, my cheeks flushing at the tenderness of it. Averting my gaze away from his face, I brush a thumb over the midnight blue of his jacket.

He looks ahead as he walks us out of the room and down the hallway. “Do you know where your room is?”

My laugh comes out squeaky. “No. Do you?”

He grumbles in response, “I suppose we’ll walk around the castle until you can confirm which room yours is then.”

“What if…I can’t?” I grin up at him.

He raises an eyebrow at me, already recognizing what I’m implying, before looking back at the path ahead. “I don’t do sleepovers.”

“Who said anything about a sleepover?”

He clears his throat, still not looking at me. “I also don’t fuck drunk women. Not my thing.”

I sag head against his chest, his heartbeat murmuring against my ear. Every glance away from him ties my stomach into knots, the hallway flashing by at a nauseating speed. Instead, I train my eyes on him, admiring the elegant and precise edges of his cheekbones, his jaw, and scarred neck.

“You’re staring,” he calls me out and flicks his gaze down to me. When our eyes connect for a moment, a hint of a smile winks at his lips before it disappears.

He darts his attention away from me, a forced irritation rumbling in his chest. “What?”

The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I love it when you smile like that.”

He whips another look at me, his mouth parted. “You—” He shakes his head and is back to scanning the hallway. “You’re drunk.”

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Now’s not the time for revealing all your deepest, darkest secrets, kitten.”

“Well, I need to tell you this one anyway…I’m sorry.”

He flinches, squinting down at me. “What? Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for using your sister against you at the battle of Blackfell. I manipulated you. That was wrong of me, and I’m truly sorry. I’ll never...”

The ceiling above us threatens to collapse as it spins tilted circles. The pounding in my head roars over the sound of my throbbing heart, and my stomach tenses. I squeeze my eyes shut to give my brain a break, to escape the spinning and swirling before I vomit.

It’s dark. Peaceful.

“I’ll never…do that…again,” I whisper, fading into the darkness beckoning me forward like an old friend.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Darian commands.

But it’s too late.

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