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He swooped in—one step, that was all. His hand cupped my cheek, and his lips slammed into mine, the kiss bruising and harsh and so unexpected, like a bolt of lightning. I instinctively shoved him off and staggered backward. I gasped and he glared, hating me all over again.
Cinnamon and spice tingled on my lips. And that sweet memory came roaring back.
The memory of us in the graveyard so many years ago bullied its way into my thoughts. Our knees had been damp from the grass. My mouth had teased his, a ghost of a touch, a question, and when he’d parted his lips, he’d answered. Then he’d pushed me away and glared as though he hated me, like he glared at me now. But I wasn’t the one who’d initiated the kiss now, not this time. This kiss was all him.
“What do you want from me” I snapped, confusion and anger spilling over. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what this is.” I backed off, because if I didn’t, I’d rush him and kiss him like I could tear all our barriers down around us. “You hate me, and then you kiss me? What was that? Vengeance? A game? Do you hate me so much as to twist my heart so cruelly? I deserve it, I know I do, but do not twist my heart, where I have no defense, and you know it!”
His wide eyes narrowed. “As you twisted mine?”
He was right. And this couldn’t happen between us. I was here only to solve his father’s murder, not fall in love with the toymaker’s son all over again.
“Fire!” someone yelled outside in the street. “All hands! Fire in the square!”
Doors from adjacent rooms slammed. More shouts offirerose up. Boots hammered on the hallway’s floorboards. Devere glanced at the window, as though he meant to leave. He’d be seen if he did. Or worse, Russo’s mob would find him.
“Wait here. Don’t come out.” I headed for the door. “They can’t know you’re with me. I’ll come right back.” With my hand on the door handle, I looked back and almost combusted under his furious gaze. “Will you wait, Devere, for your own good?”
His chin lifted, and he folded his arms. Back to being the stubborn, aloof toymaker’s son. “I’ve waited this long.”
He and I needed to talk like men, not bicker like children. But the fire in his gaze suggested such reason was a long way off yet.
I hurried from the room and joined others sprinting out of the inn and up the street in the snow. It was still early morning, and most people were dressed in their morning clothes, not equipped for snow and ice.
An orange hue danced on the house frontages, near the corner of the main street.
“The store!” A man waved ahead, geeing the crowd on. “Quickly! It’s the toy store. Hurry!”
Ice encapsulated my heart. No, please no…
I skidded around a bookstore onto the street corner and stumbled to a stop.
“Get the buckets!”
“A line—form a line!”
Flames engulfed the World of Toys’ massive shattered windows and crawled up its façade. Shock stole the breath from my lungs. Despite the bucket lines and gallant efforts from the townsfolk, there was no saving it.
Devere’s home was ablaze.
ChapterSixteen
Fire boiledinside the toy store, devouring Devere’s intricately crafted toys, leaping from display to display until there was nothing but fury and flame and the horrible sounds of the store breaking apart.
As I watched, heat sizzled the skin on my arms and burned my face.
People bustled with sloshing buckets of water, racing to and fro, desperate to dampen the flames. I should have joined them, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.
The store’s second-floor windows exploded, raining glass on those trying to help. Flames licked higher. The store groaned, shuddered, and heaved.
“Back!” a man yelled. “It’s coming down! Get back!”
The frontage tumbled. Brick and burning timbers fell across the road. Embers scattered into the snow, and the fire roared like a monstrous beast.
I had to tell Devere… He had to know. I backed away. This was it. This was the final straw. He’d leave now. He had to. I’d take him back to Massalia with me, rumors be damned.
Russo caught my eye as he directed the bucket line, seeming to help, but as he saw me, a wicked smile hooked into his cheek.
He’d done this. He and the rest of the gentlemen’s club members. They hadn’t found Devere, so they’d destroyed all he had left. I shoved through the line, grabbed him by the shirt, and hauled him off his feet. “You bastard!”
