Page 63 of The Devil's Trials

Why did I let him get close again?

Why did I let him kiss me?

Why did I kiss him back?

I feel like I just failed a test I wasn’t allowed to prepare for.

SEVENTEENXANDER

Camille’s unsteady heartbeat fills the space between us. Her pupils are blown, her skin flushed, and her expression darkened with an enticing mix of anger and lust. There’s a spark of fear there too, though it doesn’t seem directed toward me—rather what my being here makes her feel. Which only makes me want to stay longer.

“You’re making this so much harder,” she says.

“I’ve tried staying away from you.” It’s not entirely true. That said, I could’ve stopped her from leaving Seattle—Iwantedto despite it being a terrible, dangerous idea for both of us, which is ultimately why I let her go. And if I came to her, either in person or by dreamscape whenever I thought about her, she’d realize how often I’ve resisted the urge to do just that.

“Says the guy who traveled across the country because I have the flu. This coming after you used your freaky demon power and waltzed into my dream.”

Fair enough. My lips twitch, and a car horn blares in the distance outside the apartment window. “Yes, well, you’re stepping on the point I’m trying to make.”

“That your self control sucks?” she offers in a sarcastic voice, briefly allowing me to forget every wretched reason for us to be apart. There are no demons or trials or hunters standing between us. There’s justus.

“I seem to recall you kissing me back a moment ago,” I say with a lilt of challenge in my tone.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Further proof of your bad influence on me.”

I shift closer, lowering my voice as I speak into her ear. “Then let me corrupt you.”

Her pulse jumps, and I devour the heat of her nearness as she leans toward me, making my nerve endings tingle.

I can’t deny that I crave her surrender.

“Xander,” she breathes, turning her face and brushing her lips against my cheek. “No.”

I don’t move a muscle. “See?” I offer in a soft voice. “You’re stronger than you think you are.”

She pulls back to look at me. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here at all right now.”

The corner of my mouth kicks up. “Nothing in this world could keep me away from you.”

“And the underworld?” Her eyes flick between mine, glimmering with an emotion I could easily mistake as hope.

I’d make you its queen—myqueen.

The words get stuck in my throat. As deeply as I desire that, the danger that lies down that path isn’t something I’m ready to face, let alone subject Camille to.

So all I say is, “That’s complicated.”

She sighs, wetting her lips. “Of course it is. We keep going in circles.” Her gaze falls away from mine, and her voice is quieter when she asks, “When does it end? Will it ever?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, frowning at the discomfort it unfurls in my chest. It shouldn’t. None of this should affect me. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t. But even after losing my soul, Camille holds power over me she doesn’t realize—and that’s probably for the best.

Camille nods, slowly standing from the couch, and I keep a close eye on her to make sure she’s steady enough on her feet to not fall over. “I’m going back to bed and I need you to be gone when I get up.”

“I’ll go,” I tell her, standing. “But tell me one thing first.”

Her brows scrunch together, her voice tired when she says, “What?”

“Do you love him? The hunter?”

---