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When he took the bottle, his fingertips touched mine. A shiver of electricity skittered down my backbone. Latent necromancy in his skin, or the undeniable desire that simmered between us like magic?
“Will you go home to Prussia?” I asked.
He knocked back the last of his drink. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because of your family.”
His eyes hardened at the wordfamily, telling me already that I was wrong. “I don’t exist, Ardis. Not to them. You won’t find me on any of their family trees. I’m not a part of their lineageanymore. If I die, they will have an easier time erasing me from their reputations. An easier time forgetting.”
I swallowed past the ache in my throat. “When a necromancer dies, does he die like a normal man?”
“God, I hope so.”
His beautiful eyes looked molten with emotion. His honey-gravel voice, the intensity of his stare, and the way he looked at me were all dangerous. Tension stretched taut between us like a string about to snap.
“Wendel, I need to apologize.”
“For?”
“Kissing you was a mistake.”
He swirled the absinthe in his glass. “Because I’m an abomination?”
“Because you’re forbidden.”
“But forbidden fruit tastes so much sweeter.”
He set down his glass with a decisive clink. When he leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, the scent of him surrounded me. Absinthe, like bitter licorice, mingled with his masculine warmth. God, he smelled good.
I resisted the urge to kiss him again. Would his lips taste like absinthe?
“Why do you want me?” he asked, in a deadly murmur.
“The archmages need a necromancer.” I hated how breathless I sounded.
“No.You.”
Liquid desire rippled through my belly. I curled my hands into fists. “I don’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He leaned even closer, his eyes glittering. “You believe me to be an abomination, and yet you still can’t stop touching me.”
Fuck, he wasn’t wrong.
“You aren’t untouchable.” I tossed the words at him without any real malice.
“A necromancer often touches the dead more than the living. But don’t worry, I keep my hands clean. I haven’t defiled you yet.”
Yet.That one little word coiled in my stomach like a snake.
I wanted him to defile me. The dark urge darted through my mind. My fingernails bit harder into my palms.
“What makes you think I’m any less dirty?” I asked. “My hands have been stained by the blood of countless men.”
“Are you threatening me?” He raised his glass as if toasting me.
“Trust me, you would know if I was.”
He cocked his head, his mouth bent between a smirk and a sneer. “Do you want to kill me or kiss me again?”
