Chapter 24 Zaria #2
“That doesn’t make you wrong,” Kane finally declared in a way that managed to be both soft and harsh. “You’re exactly who you are.”
Zaria gave a hollow laugh. It didn’t sound like her. “That’s sort of the problem.”
“Maybe that’s why you were able to master alchemology.
It’s about holding multiple points of focus, right?
You see yourself as full of contradictions, but maybe having fifteen thoughts at once is a strength.
” Bemusement curved his lips. “Whatever it is about you that makes you feel like a disaster… maybe that’s the reason you can do what so many other people can’t. Did you ever think of that?”
“No,” Zaria muttered, because she hadn’t. She was so accustomed to holding feelings of shame, she’d never thought about anything of the sort. She bit the inside of her cheek as the glittering flame sputtered out, wisps of smoke curling up from the point of demise.
“Well,” Kane said. “Maybe you should.”
When she finally looked back up, he was gone.
It took Zaria far too long to refocus her attention, even without Kane to distract her.
After hours spent fitting together the nonmagical parts of her creations, she finally managed to slow her racing pulse, sinking into something of a meditative state as she worked.
Distantly, she knew the day was slipping away from her.
But she couldn’t risk stopping now, or she might never find her way back into the project.
The first couple of primateria creations had gone easily enough.
Exhaustion tugged at the edges of her consciousness, though she was able to ignore it.
At some point, she’d realized there was a glass of water on the counter beneath one of the cabinets; Kane or Fletcher must have put it there ahead of time.
She resolved to drink it after creating one more.
Shutting her eyes, she let her thoughts coalesce and settle like an alchemological compound.
There was no sound but the tap, tap of her foot as she let the rhythm lull her into concentration.
She beseeched the world to disappear, and this time it did, melting away and dragging her into oblivion.
She imagined the precise interaction of materials she required and was ready for the tension, the subsequent rush.
But Zaria was not ready to open her eyes and feel her heart stop.
It restarted with a jolt as she fought back the dizziness, primateria clutched in her left hand. She couldn’t remember plucking it from the candle or blowing out the flame. She must have, though, because tendrils of smoke unfurled in the air before her, partially obscuring Kane’s face.
“Kane.” His name on her tongue betrayed her shock. She tried and failed to push herself up. Where had he come from? She was certain he hadn’t been there a moment prior.
He frowned, his dark brows drawing together. His hand was on her cheek, she realized, fingers cool against her burning face. “Christ. Are you okay? Your countenance is…”
“I’m fine.” Nausea rose in the back of her throat as she struggled to fit the pieces of herself back together. She was bent over the work desk, she realized distantly, her other cheek pressed to the wood.
“Zaria.”
The world tilted as he repeated her name.
Another wave of dizziness crashed into her like an incoming tide, and her heart stuttered in that horrible, off-tempo rhythm as she pushed away from the table, from the primateria, from Kane.
She was too aware of her body, and everything felt wrong.
Black spotted the edges of her vision. “I need to leave.”
“What?” Frustration laced his voice. He gestured to what she’d created so far. “Is this everything I requested?”
Was he mad? Didn’t he recall how many magical items he’d asked her to come up with?
And some of them, like the parautoptic key, were things she’d never so much as considered attempting before.
“I’m not a machine, Kane. I’ve done enough for today, and I’m going home.
” She made to sidestep him, but he blocked her with ease.
“Sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out again.”
Her frustration mounted. She couldn’t have Kane seeing her like this—weak and confused, her thoughts clouded. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not trying to,” he said blithely. “And I know you’re not a machine. I was only trying to discern whether you’d overextended yourself.”
“Pretending to care now, are we?”
“I have no need of pretending. I was half-worried I’d return to discover that you’d expired.”
“And wouldn’t that be inconvenient for you.” To her relief, the nausea was already fading.
“What’s that supposed to mean? It would be inconvenient, but—”
“I know you’re only worried because of what you need me to do for you, Durante. Otherwise it’d make no difference to you whether I was dead or alive.”
For some reason, Zaria realized belatedly, the accusation had been a mistake. Kane’s eyes flashed, looking too large in the shadow-carved gauntness of his face.
“No difference?” he hissed. “Zaria, all I’ve done all week is try to keep you alive. What do my intentions matter? Why can’t you just say thank you?”
They were good questions, and she resented that fact.
Why did she care about Kane’s reason for protecting her when what mattered was that he had?
She suddenly felt very foolish. The dip in her stomach whenever he was near—like she was standing on a precipice overlooking some great height—was ill-advised.
He was unbearable and dangerous. So why did she feel contorted into knots, full of held-breath anticipation as she waited for him to admit that there was another reason he kept saving her life?
For a moment, she thought he might do just that.
His throat worked as he swallowed, and his focus on her intensified.
But then he sighed, dragging fingers through his hair, and shook his head.
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. If you can’t take care of yourself, Fletcher is the one who’ll suffer in the end. ”
Something inside Zaria soured. Right. This was about Fletcher. She blinked furiously back at Kane, her head finally clearing as she said, “So I’ve heard. And whose fault is that?”
“You think I wanted this?” Kane’s voice was barely audible. It was more frightening than if he’d yelled. He relit the candle, then a second one. The flames flickered, turning his face skeletal. “You think it doesn’t eat me alive? There is nothing I wouldn’t do for Fletcher. Nothing.”
“I thought you didn’t care about death,” Zaria scoffed. “Cecile’s certainly didn’t bother you.”
“Cecile meant nothing to me.”
“You’re sick.”
Kane took another slow step forward. “And what about you? You hadn’t seen her in years. Were you truly weeping for her loss, or was it merely that her death meant you no longer had a way of getting what you wanted?”
The sensation of weakness faded, leaving Zaria with nothing but a burning fury.
Kane didn’t know her. He hadn’t known the reasons Cecile was important to her or that Zaria had gotten what she wanted in the end.
He didn’t understand that for a few blissful moments she had finally, finally, felt a little less alone.
“Fuck you, Kane,” she whispered.
He stood directly before her now, lithe and motionless as a specter.
His teeth flashed as he gave a single, dismissive laugh.
“You’ve convinced yourself that I’m callous, but I’m simply selective when it comes to other people.
You’re the same, aren’t you? We both have one person we’d sacrifice everything for, and anyone else just gets in the way. ”
“What exactly are you sacrificing, Kane? Everything you do”—Zaria thrust a finger at his chest—“is to undo the damage you’ve already caused. So you can delude yourself into believing you’re not a shit person who lies to anyone who’s ever attempted to care about you.”
She didn’t know what made her say it. Perhaps it was the conversation she’d had with Fletcher and how he so desperately wanted Zaria to give Kane more grace than he deserved.
Perhaps it was the expression on Jules’s face when she’d left the pawnshop last night.
Perhaps she merely wanted to see Kane hurt.
It must have worked, because something shuttered behind his eyes.
They looked amber tonight, the same color and equally liquid as the whiskey he so often smelled like.
She wished she knew what he was thinking.
Why that muscle ticked in his jaw. There was an unfamiliar hesitance in his body language as he searched her face, but there was also a certain hunger about him.
She tensed, unable to stop her breath from turning shallow.
“You’re treading dangerous ground, Miss Mendoza,” Kane breathed. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body. Saw the brief flick of his gaze down to her mouth, then back up again.
“And?” She challenged him, an animal hunger of her own clawing its way up her insides.
Her skin was hot. Too hot. The fire between them burned from fury to lust until the two were all but indistinguishable.
Kane lowered his face to hers, pulse fluttering in his throat as his jaw tensed, neck going taut. Zaria didn’t move an inch.
It was nonsensical. She hated Kane in that moment. She hated him, and there was no part of him that was not wrong for her.
But she couldn’t help the disappointment that lanced through her when he began to back away again.
“Coward,” she hissed.
That was when he lunged and pulled her face to his.
Kane kissed her with feverish intensity, and Zaria didn’t stop him.
Her body went slack as he shoved her against the wall, his hand sliding up her rib cage and trailing over her shoulder to rest at her throat.
Kissing Kane was not gentle. It was grasping fingers and bruising touch and the delicate skim of teeth.
It was vicious collision and fury in the space between breathless gasps.
It was the heady scent of smoke and the dizzying absence of all rational thought.
Kane’s mouth brushed her jaw, and he hooked a finger in the collar of her jacket, wrenching it aside.
Cool air danced along the exposed stretch of her collarbone as his hand tightened on her neck.
He was beautiful, this dangerous boy, and Zaria resented it.
Resented the way he was soft and firm in all the right places as he pressed against her.
Resented the chill that danced across her skin as the pressure of his touch nearly undid her.
“What was it you called me?” Kane exhaled the words against the hollow of her throat.
Zaria pulled her lips back from her teeth, utterly motionless. “Coward.”
Something rumbled in his chest—either a laugh or a growl—as he dragged his mouth back up to hers. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer, and lightning sparked behind her shuttered eyelids. Nothing existed that wasn’t Kane.
She was a fool. She knew it even as her fingers trembled and her stomach tightened.
She knew Kane was chaotic, charming, tragic, unpredictable.
She knew trying to understand him was like trying to snatch raindrops from the air.
She hadn’t been lying when she said he was a mess, but she was something of a mess herself.
They were too similar—perhaps that was the problem.
They would break each other into unrecognizable pieces.
They would set the world on fire purely by accident and watch as it burned down around them.
She was going to betray Kane. Would kissing him like this—like her very soul would crack if she pulled away—help her do that? Would it make him trust her more than he ought to if he believed she truly felt something for him?
And then, the thought that made Zaria’s heart turn over: What if he was kissing her for the same reason?
Once the idea crossed her mind, she couldn’t escape it. She ripped away from Kane, bracing both hands against his chest to shove him back. Confusion darkened his gaze as he stumbled, still breathing heavily, his hair mussed where she’d run her fingers through it.
“I have to go,” Zaria huffed, ducking to the side as she made to leave.
Kane moved with impossible stealth, blocking her exit. He held the door shut, fingers splayed against the wood, veins in the back of his hand straining. “Stay. Just a little longer.”
It wasn’t a request but a command. He couldn’t even ask her a question—he had to pose it as an order.
God, how had she allowed herself to soften toward him even for a second? Kane was using her. And she had all but asked for it, fool that she was.
Coward.
Well. She would use him right back, and they would see who cracked first.
“Good night, Kane,” she said coolly, slapping his arm away and yanking the door open. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Assuming I feel like it.”
He didn’t say another word as she swept past him out into the dusk.