Page 34 of Demon’s Snack

“No, you don’t.”

“I know enough to be afraid,” she says, and the quiet steadiness of it stops me harder than denial would have. “I am not standing here because I think you are harmless. I am standing here because the part of you that could have killed Talen did not. The part of you that could have chased Vaerith through the mirror stayed in this passage. The restraint matters, Corin.”

“It may not always be enough.”

“No. It may not.”

That honesty should scare me away, but it roots me to the stones instead.

She takes another step, and this time I do not tell her to stop quickly enough. She is near enough now that I can see a smear of ink near her thumb, the damp at the hem of her cloak, the faint mark where Talen’s grip must have bruised her wrist last night.

The hunger notices the bruise.

My eyes flare.

Isolde sees it.

“Look at me,” she says.

“I am.”

“Not my wrist.”

I drag my gaze up to hers with effort that makes the muscles in my neck burn.

Her voice lowers. “There. Stay with my face.”

The hunger shudders, pulled back from the mark by the command of her attention. Something passes between us that feels less like obedience than redirection, like water forced into a safer channel before it can flood the banks.

She sees that too.

Of course she does.

“Interesting,” she whispers.

I laugh, and it sounds half-mad even to me. “Woman, if you call me interesting one more time while I’m trying not to combust, I may throw myself in the canal.”

“The canal is filthy.”

“Then I’ll combust.”

Her mouth curves despite everything, and the small private warmth of that almost-smile hits me harder than it should. “Please don’t. That would complicate my notes.”

I stare at her for a second, and then the laugh comes again, steadier this time. It breaks through the worst of the pressure in my chest, not removing the hunger but giving it room to settle back into its cage. The ember glow fades beneath my skin by slow degrees.

She watches the change with open fascination.

I point at her. “Do not say it.”

“I was not going to.”

“You absolutely were.”

“I was going to say significant.”

“That is worse.”

“It is more precise.”