“You killed them because they tried to hurt me?” I asked, pretending to be touched by his chivalry as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“And I’d do it again,” Vasilios replied softly, distracted as his eyes went to my mouth.
“You were right earlier, by the way.”
His blue eyes glowed with curiosity. “Right about what?”
“That against my own better judgment, I’m intrigued by you.”
Again, his eyes glowed, but he remained silent.
“Do you remember our kiss?” I went on.
His nostrils flared. I’d definitely snagged his attention now. “Yes,” he said, his voice low. “What about it?”
“I’m angry with myself for liking it,” I pretended to confess.
He tilted his head, taking a step closer. “Why?”
“Because you’re a murderer.”
There was a beat of silence while he studied me. I couldn’t tell if my pretence was working or not. Vasilios closed the distance between us. “I’m going to leave now. As you said, the house is surrounded, and I can’t keep them out forever. You might not see me for a while.”
“Oh,” I breathed, needing him to come closer. I needed an excuse to touch him, and he’d dangled the perfect opportunity right in front of me. “If I ask you for something, will you promise never to tell another soul?”
“Why would you want me to promise that?”
“Because I’m ashamed.”
“Ashamed of what?”
I levelled my eyes on his. “Ashamed of wanting to kiss you once more before you go.”
Vasilios froze. My heart hammered. Crap, he wasn’t going to fall for this. He was too perceptive. But then, his eyes grew soft as he reached out, his rough hand clasping my jaw. I fought the instinct to shift away.
Glancing up at his horns, I felt a strange urge to touch them that I didn’t entirely understand. Perhaps it was because they were something unusual that I hadn’t encountered before. The demons who lived in Tribane tended to glamour away any demonic features to blend in with the human population.
“You can touch them if you want,” he offered, bending his head to me.
I reached out as though entranced. What the hell was I doing? Gingerly, I touched my fingers to one of his horns. It was smooth at the outermost point but with little bumps where the woody colour was dappled a lighter brown. It was confusing to me how fascinating I found them. I should’ve been scared. Better yet, I should’ve been concentrating on the instructions Peter had given me, but here I was, indulging my odd curiosity.
I ran fingers down to where the horn began at his temple and felt a shudder go through him. My eyes went to his, startled by the heat I found in his pale blue gaze. I was struck by two opposing impulses, one to run away, the other to stay and see what happened next.
“I’ll kiss you before I go if that’s what you really want,” he said, a weird catch in his voice.
I inhaled sharply and nodded. This was it. My chance to bind him. Now, where was the magic Peter had promised me? Vasilios bent close, tentatively pressing his lips to mine. He hesitated, sensing my stiffness. I needed to loosen up, make him believe I wanted this.
So, I weaved my arms around his neck, pulling him close and opening my mouth. Vasilios held still as I kissed him. Did he know I was faking it? Panic trickled in, but then he started kissing me back, his tongue meeting mine in a seductive slide.
A growl rumbled from his chest as his hands came up to cup my cheeks, and I took the opportunity to run my hands down his arms. At that moment, a jolt went through me, like an electrical charge. The combination of magic from Peter, Rita, and my mother zipped through my veins. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I suddenly realised what I’d been missing out on all these years.
Now I knew why witches and warlocks were so proud when it came to the magic they possessed. It was a powerful feeling, knowing you could wield a spell against someone, hold them at your mercy with nothing but a muttered incantation.
My hands continued roaming down Vasilios’ arms until I reached his wrists. He was so deep into our kiss that he didn’t immediately notice me closing my fingers around them.
Another sensation zapped through me, a strange vibration. It wasn’t Peter’s magic nor my mother’s nor Rita's. It was my own. Something in their combined magic channelling through me had awakened a spark of my inherent power.
I gathered it all, all of the magic that was culminating inside of me, and directed it around Vasilios’ wrists, allowing it to form a magical bind. The magic sang within me, telling me the spell was working. The invisible binds fastened around him, muting the vast power he possessed. Suddenly, Vasilios tore his mouth from mine.