Page 95 of Flame and Sparrow

“And yetyouare the one who keeps insisting on playing games with a supposedly madgod.”

“It’s not a game, I—”

“Oh, I quite agree. I feel as if we moved out of the realm of pure games several days ago now.”

I should not have responded to this, but the words slipped out of me before I could catch them. “And whatfeelingsdo you have about us now?”

He dropped his gaze to my mouth as his tongue slid over his bottom lip. “What a dangerous question.”

I stood my ground. “Answer it.”

He lifted his hand, trailed his fingers lightly across my cheek. “I don’t think you want to hear my answer.”

No, I don’t, said the quiet, rational part of my brain.

The slightly drunk, foolish part of me whispered, “Yes, I do.”

His fingers stilled against my skin. His lips parted, but he hesitated to answer.

“Tell me, oh great and powerful God of Fire and Forging: What do youfeeltoward me in this moment?”

My slightly trembling, slightly mocking voice made a muscle in his jaw jump. His hand pressed through the waves of my hair, curving around and gripping the back of my head. A subtle movement that radiated power. Possessiveness.

“I feel…” he replied, slowly, “as though someone should have taught you not to play with fire.”

“I thought we agreed this was not a game?”

“True.” The hand against the nape of my neck held me in place as he leaned closer, while his other hand traveled down the curves of my body, coming to rest against the small of my back. “So let’s keep the danger in mind,” he murmured, “and please believe me, Little Sparrow, when I tell you that I could set fire to every inhibition you possess, and when we are finished it will only be you and I among the ashes. I will be the only thing you can think of, and it will not bedisdainthat you feel toward me, I can promise you that.”

His lips swept over mine with the last word. The kiss was soft, yet certain. A promise. A threat. A taste of tart wine and heat that somehow left me both disgusted with myself and starving for more.

I held my breath as he pulled away.

He kept his searing gaze on mine as his fingers threaded back through my hair and along my jawline. His thumb stroked a path over my bottom lip, as though mapping out his next kiss, but that kiss never came; sudden awareness shimmered in his eyes, and the moment fizzled like the promising spark of a fire that had nearly ignited before giving way to nothing more than smoke.

My chest ached as though I had inhaled several lungfuls of that smoke.

“And now I feel like you and that dress should get out of my sight,” he said, “before we do something we’ll both end up regretting.”

A traitorous thought flashed through my mind before I could guard against it—

I want to do regrettable things with him.

But the idea was gone in an instant, and I was storming from the room in the next.

Chapter27

The next morningI woke up even angrier than the last, hating the God of Fire more than ever, and—worse than that—hatingmyselffor what I’d done with him. For the wine, for the kiss, for the traitorous thoughts and feelings he kept stirring within me.

All that time I’d spent trying to refocus yesterday had apparently been in vain. Nothing felt focused or right this morning. Even the simple act of walking downstairs to breakfast in the room by the garden triggered another wave of angry, restless feelings; I was getting too used to the rhythm of this realm and its rulers.

Valas was here, as he’d been so many times before. I couldn’t decide if his presence made me feel better or worse. I wanted to hate him with the same ferocity I hated the God of Fire with, but I couldn’t seem to. Chaos, hatred, misery…they all loved company, I suppose, and Valas seemed intent on being that company.

We shared a rigid, awkward silence for as long as it took him to drain the tea in his cup and fix me with a curious look.

“I’m beginning to think you aren’t a morning person,” he commented.

“Just another late night,” I mumbled.

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