do so. One of the things that enchanted him most about Celine was her wit.
It didn’t matter. Nothing about her could hold him in thrall anymore.
Before he had a chance to reconsider, Bastien glowered at Celine with a look that would send lesser men running for their mothers. On the force of this scowl alone, he pressed her back against the double doors, his right hand coming to rest on the English oak beside her head. Though Celine’s eyes widened, she did not falter. Instead she bristled, cautioning him without words.
Tread carefully, Sébastien Saint Germain.
Damn her audacity. For matching him in all ways.
“You don’t owe me anything,” Bastien said, his tone imbued with warning. “Just as I owe you nothing in return.”
“When are you going to—”
“You wanted answers. All you need to know is this: there are demons in the night that want nothing more than to drain you of your blood and leave behind a lifeless husk.” Bastien cut her off before she could say anything. “It doesn’t matter what they’re called. It doesn’t matter how they are killed. It only matters that they will kill you. The best advice I can give you is to stay away and leave these matters to those equipped to handle them.”
Celine choked through a bout of dark amusement, her pulse fluttering beneath the thin skin along her neck. “If you’re equipped to handle this demon, then why is it still wreaking havoc on us? I deserve to know how to defend myself. Odette would—”
“Did you not hear a word I said?” Bastien drew himself up to his full height, intentionally towering over her, though he continued speaking in a measured tone. “Stay away from everyone in the Court of the Lions. Don’t trust me. Don’t trust anyone around me, including Odette. Whatever you hear, believe none of it. Whatever you see, believe less than half.”
“You—promised me the truth.” Her eyes narrowed to slits.
He lifted a dismissive shoulder. “I lied.”
Fury mottled Celine’s face, the flakes of gold along her cheekbones flashing. To Bastien’s eternal frustration, it made her appear even lovelier, her eyes like gemstones, her teeth bared like weapons. “Then you brought me here just to—”
“You should have run away when you had the chance. There is—”
“Stop interrupting me, you fils de pute.” Celine shoved him, her palms like brands against his chest. “And for your information, I already tried to run.”
“Liar.” Bastien brushed aside her hands as if he were swatting a fly. “If you meant to run, you would have fled this place long ago. Don’t tell me you tried. Selfish bastards like you and me don’t try. We do.” The words felt like acid on his tongue, the truth searing through to his soul.
Celine recoiled from it, her lips parting. A look of understanding smoothed across her beautiful face. “You’re trying to scare me. It won’t work.”
Bastien wrapped a careful hand around her throat, pulling her closer, her unbound curls tickling his wrist, distracting him for another maddening instant. “Then you’re a fool.”
“Why won’t you help me?” Celine’s voice cracked at the last, the first sign he’d caused her demonstrable pain.
It struck Bastien like a battering ram to his stomach. “You worry about the creature who might kill you?” A cold spate of laughter fell from his lips. “You should worry about the demon who will. For I’ll kill you myself if you don’t stay away.”
“Liar. You wouldn’t hurt me.” Despite everything, Celine Rousseau still refused to retreat.
Bastien could not admire her for it. He would not admire her for it.
“You don’t know anything about me,” he said. “I’ve killed before, Celine. Countless times. And relished in doing it, never once asking for forgiveness.” He meant to terrify her with this admission. To seal their fate once and for all.
Celine exhaled slowly, her breath shaking as it left her lips. “So have I.”
Bastien’s hand dropped from her throat, tension flowing from beneath his skin, his chest tight with surprise. He thought about accusing her of lying. But she wasn’t lying. He knew her well enough to realize a revelation like this could not be a lie. It was too brutal, like truth often was.
Celine raised her pointed chin. Angry tears welled in her eyes. “I killed a man with my own two hands.” Her fists balled at her sides. “It’s why I ran away from Paris.” She inhaled, her body trembling. “And I don’t feel sorry for it, not in the slightest. I’m not afraid of death, Sébastien Saint