Page 85 of A City of Smoke and Demons
Analise reached for his hand; he ripped it away.
If she touched him, he’d cry.
‘We’ll find another way.’
With a dark laugh, Ezra got up and stalked away, kicking a chair. It tipped and fell into another, and the sound it made, that violent crack, pummelled its way like a fist into his brain and he snapped. He kicked two chairs and upended a table before Analise was there, standing between him and the next piece of furniture he’d chosen as his target.
His chest was heaving, face hot, hands clenched at his side. All he felt was despair. He couldn’t even be angry for long. He only had himself to blame, after all.
‘Ezra—’
‘If you won’t help me, leave me alone,’ he muttered, keeping his eyes down as he left the room.
Analise had spent the last few weeks not only trying to learn about her magic, but observing the people around her, watching how they moved, listening to the changing tone of their voices, and noting the different expressions on their faces. She’d learnt their tells—a twist of the mouth could either mean distaste or pleasure, depending on the context. A shrug could be a means of avoiding something, or nonchalance because they didn’t know how else to react.
Eye contact was the biggest tell of them all. It was vulnerable and brave, intrusive at times. With Ezra that morning, with the horrible things he was hinting at, his eyes had remained vulnerable and full of pain. His mask had slipped, and he couldn’t put it back on.
He thought he was running out of time, the seconds of his life slipping past too quickly for him to grab hold of. As currency, time was more valuable than people realised. Analise needed more of it as well. She needed more hours in the day, more moments where she could stop andthinkand try to work out what to do.
Maybe she should do what he wanted … but the idea of not being able to bring him back was terrifying. Rats were one thing, Familiars—they were people she didn't know and had no meaningful connection with, save their shared humanity, but Ezra …
He meant something, and they’d come too far for her to risk him.
Was that selfish, though? It wasn’t her life being used as collateral in a wager with the Devil. Analise was the prize, and couldn’t begin to figure out why.
The day passed quickly and slowly in the same instant. It felt like days, weeks, since she watched Ezra trash a room. After he left the bar, she’d set the table right and picked up the chairs,surprised to find none of them broken, but she suspected he didn’t want to break anything.
Except himself.
Worry burnt the back of her throat. Where was he? He hadn’t answered his door, hadn’t been in the kitchen, the lab … it was like he’d vanished.
Analise abandoned her dinner, rushing from the kitchen into the crowded front bar. She stood on tip-toes, scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of Ezra in the sea of brown and grey and battered hats. A smiling man tried to talk to her, she shook her head and pushed past him.
Ezra was sitting on the top of the stairs leading to their rooms, head resting against the wall. He stood when she approached, so she hurried to catch him before he could disappear somewhere. Her hand closed over his arm; he stiffened, and then relaxed.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said.
He turned to look at her, forcing a smile. It didn’t last long, slipping from his face as quickly as it appeared. ‘Analise—’
‘Can we argue about your death tomorrow, please?’
Ezra pulled his hands through his hair. He looked like he was about to be torn in half. She couldn’t stand it, but didn’t know how to tell him he meant something to her. She leant against the wall, watching him watch her.
Eventually, he took a step forward, then another, until he was close enough to touch. ‘I need you to—’
‘Ezra—’
‘Kiss me, Analise. If you’re not going to kill me, then please kiss me,’ he whispered. ‘I need to feel something other than fear. I need to think about something other than demons, the Devil, and the end of the fucking world.’
Analise’s breath caught. She placed her hands on his chest. His heartbeat fluttered under her fingertips; rhythmic and alive,and something in her blood stirred, something deep and equally alive.
She curled her fingers in his shirt and hauled him to her. The moment their lips crashed together was the moment she knew she was utterly lost and there would be no coming back from this. Ezra kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. His mouth was hungry, desperate, and she kissed him back with everything she had.
They fell into his room, and she tore her clothes off before he had the door shut. His eyes darkened as they skimmed her body. He crossed the floor in two strides, pulling her into his arms. His head rested in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged on her skin. She ran her hands over the broad sweep of his shoulders, down his arms. She wanted him: his fingers, his mouth, that tongue of his.
He went to pull away but she tightened her grip on his arms. His jaw twitched as his expression shifted so quickly it was impossible for her to untangle the storm of emotions there. Her thumbs stroked his skin. He exhaled, some of the tension fleeing his shoulders as he pressed his forehead gently against hers.
‘Ezra,’ she whispered. ‘Take what you need from me. Whatever you need, take it.’
