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“Actually, um, I didn't know I could do that.”

That stops me.

“You didn't?”

She shakes her head.

For a moment, I see it again—that uncertainty she carries whenever her magic comes up.

Probably from years of being told she's the Ramos sister who isn't enough. My thumb brushes across her palm.

“Looks like you can, Sweet.”

Her eyes lift to mine.

“You really think that was me?”

“It wasn’t me. Besides, I felt it.”

“But—”

“Belinda.”

I wait until she's looking directly at me.

“That was you.”

Her smile starts small. Then grows.

And Christ, I want to give her a thousand reasons to smile like that.

Dangerous.

So fucking dangerous.

I lean down until our noses nearly touch.

“Of course, now you've created another problem.”

Her lashes lower.

“What problem?”

I flick my fingers. Golden-red magic curls lazily around my hand. Her eyes widen.

“We’re uneven. But no worries, two can play at that game, Sweet.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

My magic reaches toward her, and her own golden sparks rise instinctively to meet it.

The two colors twist together between us. Neither one overwhelms the other.

They just—fit.

My Devil goes utterly, impossibly still. And for one terrifying second, so does my heart.