Page 45 of Redline Communion

Neither one is.

“Tonight, she chooses no one,” Alistair says to the room. “Tonight, the choosing is not hers to make. The house chooses what the house requires.”

My body leans toward the warmth on either side of me before I notice. I straighten, and the hooks at the back of the dress dig into my skin while the chanting grows louder.

Cassian’s fingers tighten around mine.

“Lorelei.”

His voice is low enough that the room can’t hear.

I turn toward him.

“Are you here?”

I don’t know what he means. I’m standing directly in front of him. He can see that.

“Yes,” I say anyway.

The answer sounds steadier than I feel.

His eyes search mine through the mask, and whatever he is looking for, he decides he has found enough of it.

Rafe bends toward me and presses his mouth to my temple.

“You don’t have to be scared.”

Cassian says my name again, and this time it isn’t a question. His hand comes up to my jaw, and I feel the tremor he hasn’t managed to keep out of it tonight.

Then he reaches for the edge of his mask.

The chanting falters before I understand why.

“Cassian.” Rafe’s voice is low and sharp.

A warning.

Cassian removes the mask anyway.

For one second, nothing happens, which might be the strangest part. Nobody gasps. Alistair doesn’t reprimand him. The chanting resumes, but the rhythm has gone subtly wrong, enough that I know Cassian has done something he wasn’t supposed to do.

His face looks different without the mask.

Not unfamiliar.

Worse.

Too familiar.

I know that mouth. I know the line between his brows when he’s irritated and the tiny pull at one corner when he’s trying not to laugh at me. I know exactly how much easier it was to stand here wanting to kiss him while he was just another piece of the ritual dressed in black.

“You weren’t supposed to do that.”

“No.”

“Very rebellious.”

“Don’t make too much of it.”