Page 81 of The Devil's Waltz

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to share?” He inclines his head slightly toward my cake.

I blink at him in surprise.How is he being so casual right now?“What are you doing here, Xander? If my dad had seen you…” I trail off, notwanting my thoughts to go there. I’ve always been good at jumping to the worst-case scenario, and this is no different. The idea of my dad fighting Xander makes my stomach churn, especially with the uncertainty of the outcome. Would Xander kill him? Would my dad, if he could, defy the order to detain the prince of hell and instead kill him?

“Which is why I waited for him to leave.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I say tightly.

Xander nods. “I needed to see you.”

I clench my jaw at the dip in my stomach. I shouldn’t feel it. I don’twantto feel it. Xander’s gaze and his words shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore, and I hate that they do. That I can’t make it stop. “You needed to see me,” I echo. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not good enough. Tell me why you’re here. Did you have something to do with the attack in Brooklyn? Or any others, for that matter? You have to know what’s going on right now.”

“I know what’s going on,” he agrees, drumming his fingers on the table, “but I have no part in it.”

“I don’t believe you,” I snap.

“That’s fair.” He glances toward the restaurant before looking at me again. “Perhaps we could take a walk? It’s a lovely night.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say without missing a beat, not bothering to add that there’s a hunter at my dad’s waiting for me to get back. Hell, he probably already knows.

Xander tips his head to the side. “Not even if I sayplease?”

I clamp my jaw shut to keep from gaping at him. “Your mother killed two of my best friends.” I stand, and my chair scrapes across the patio. Grabbing my bag and to-go container, I offer him one last look that I hope projects the malice swirling around my chest. “I mean this with the utmost sincerity—go to hell.”

TWENTY-THREEXANDER

The fire in her eyes calls to the darkest, most twisted parts of me. It feeds on the hatred emulating from her, and the strength of it directed at me has the demon half of me purring. Because behind that fiery hatred is a thin veil of fear. It’s spicy, like a cinnamon heart candy, and I crave the taste far more than I care to admit. I won’t feed on it—onher—no matter how fierce that desire is.

“You don’t want me here, and I understand that. But there are much bigger things at play right now. It’s not safe for you to be out in the open like this, and frankly, I’m surprised your father left you alone.” We aren’t far from where he lives, but after the ordeal of Camille being kidnapped, leaving her without protection is a risk I didn’t think Scott would take.

Her eyes narrow as her pulse quickens. “I can—”

“Take care of yourself?” I challenge. The doubt in my voice certainly won’t win me any points with her, but she has to know how dangerous her simply being here is. So as much as the sight of me brings fury to her usually soft features, I’m not going anywhere. I stand, stepping closer to her. “I’ll walk you home.” My tone doesn’t invite an argument.

Still, she stares at me defiantly, arms crossed and expression filled with determination.

What an inappropriate moment to realize just how hard I’ve fallen for her.

Something on my face must give away the all-too human emotions flooding through me, because her breath hitches.

Her eyes widen slightly before she recovers, throwing up a wall—a mask of indifference. It fills her expression and feels like a cold, hard punch to the gut.

“What do you want from me?” she says in a low voice.

I bend slightly, putting us eye-to-eye, and speak the truth, because there’s no sense hiding it now. “Everything.”

Camille’s lips part in a silent gasp, her cheeks flushing pink. She shifts behind her chair to keep it between us. “That’s not a real answer.”

The corner of my mouth kicks up as I lean closer, considering my amended answer for a moment, before I murmur, “I wantyou.”

Her heart is a storm of thunder in her chest, and she grips the back of the chair until her knuckles turn white. When she speaks next, her voice is low and uneven, as if she’s fighting back emotions. “Youhadme, Xander.”

I exhale slowly, shaking my head. “I lost you the moment you found out what I am.”

She swallows hard. “And yet, you’re still here.”

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