Page 96 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

There are some claps, none of which are enthusiastic, and Fleur sits next to me again, leaning on me and tugging my arm. I lift it and put it around her, an action I prefer with Desdemona and shouldn’t. Because the way I feel cannot be felt.

Or, at the very least, cannot be acted upon.

There’s a certain precision, perhaps professionalism, that is required to handle such fragile situations. I need her for the end. I can’t fill the middle with anything more than lies.

And she happily agrees, considering the number of times she already has done just that.

Yet, I can’t stop thinking about the sensation of our unfinished touches.

Tormenting touches.

Tantalizing touches.

My ridiculous, unrefined ramblings.

I won’t fall any further for her.

It would be too easy of a descent.

I take another sip of alcohol that I don’t need.

“Lucian!” Kai says as Jermoine pours ten shot glasses—two rows of five—of Rena. His world’s alcohol. “Are you up for a round of speed?”

Suddenly, the ballroom feels too small for the two of us.

“Luc.” Azaire nudges my arm. “You don’t have to.”

“Anytime,” I say. Smiling and walking in his direction, I sit across the table from him.

“Jermoine, call it,” Kai says.

“Three, two, one.”

I pick up the first shot glass and I’m onto the third in moments. I set the fifth one down before him.

Kai does the same moments after. He wipes his chin and scowls. “Fet nuit.” Faerie for good game. A dead language to all but us.

“Fet nuit,” I answer.

“Now that that’s over,” Fleur says as she walks toward me. “How about you play with me? Instead of glasses, we can…”

Interesting. I used to enjoy our flirtations. Now they pale in comparison to Desdemona’s antics.

Her white hair falls over my shoulder and I’m turning away when Kai says, “Again?”

Azaire meets my eyes from across the room and shakes his head. I raise my eyebrows in response.

“I welcome any invitation of friendly competition.”

Fleur stays at my side, putting her arms around my shoulders. It feels nothing like the surge of adrenaline I feel when Desdemona touches me.

Jermoine pours the shots. I have my fifth down by the time Kai has his fourth in hand.

“You’re only getting slower,” I say.

Kai laughs mockingly. “Yeah, let’s do it again then,” he slurs, making me realize I had as well.

“Oh, come on,” Fleur says.

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