The carriage ride back to the palace was stifling.
Inside the velvet-lined cabin, the air felt charged. Revas sprawled across from Mirabelle, his long legs covering most of the floor. He had tossed aside his coat, and his white shirt hung open, showing skin flushed an odd, feverish red.
He was drunk.
"The roof is spinning," Revas announced, staring up at the ceiling of the carriage. He lifted a hand, and trails of black smoke drifted from his fingertips like incense. "It's spinning widdershins. That's bad luck."
"You ate the sickness of three hundred people, Revas," Mirabelle said, watching him warily. She could feel the heat radiating from him from three feet away. "You are overdosed on curse energy."
Revas laughed, a low, sultry sound that filled the small space.
"Overdosed? No. I am full."
He slid off his seat.
Instead of sitting back up, he moved with a heavy, fluid grace, crawling across the small floor until he knelt between Mirabelle's legs.
Mirabelle stiffened. "Revas, get up."
"Can't," he mumbled, resting his cheek against her knee. "Gravity is heavy today. And you..." He inhaled deeply, his nose pressing against the silk of her dress. "...you are the anchor."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her stomach. His skin was burning hot, almost like touching a furnace.
"You smell like blood and lilies," he slurred into her dress. "My favorite combination."
The carriage hit a bump, making Revas groan and hold her tighter. His hands, usually careful, felt heavy and restless. One slid up her ribcage, his thumb tracing the line of her underwire.
"Revas," Mirabelle warned, but her voice was softer than usual. The bond filled her mind with his feelings: a dizzying mix of euphoria, hunger, and raw, electric desire.
"Shh," Revas whispered, looking up at her. His eyes were wide, violet irises swirling with black specks. "Let me hold on. If I let go, I might float away."
By the time they reached the West Tower, Revas was barely conscious.
Mirabelle almost had to drag him up the spiral stairs. He leaned all his weight on her, giggling when he tripped, and muttered about "butterflies made of iron" and "skies bleeding wine."
They crashed into the bedroom. Revas stumbled toward the bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress.
"Soft," he muffled into the quilt.
Mirabelle locked the door and leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. Her white dress was ruined, stained with mud and sweat, but she didn't care. She felt alive. The leftover energy from Revas made her skin tingle.
She walked over to the bed. "Revas? You need to sleep it off."
Revas rolled onto his back and looked at her. In an instant, his expression changed from playful to intense.
"Come here," he commanded.
It wasn't a request.
Mirabelle hesitated. "I need to bathe."
"No," Revas growled. He reached out, grabbing her wrist.
He pulled.
Mirabelle gasped as she was yanked off her feet. She landed on top of him, the mattress dipping under their combined weight.
Revas quickly wrapped his legs around hers, holding her in place. His arms tightened around her back. His body was burning hot and unyielding beneath her.
"Revas!" she protested, pushing against his chest.
"You are cold," Revas murmured, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "I need to warm you up."
He licked the sensitive skin below her ear.
Mirabelle froze. She felt a shock run down her spine. His tongue was hot, rough, and wet. He kept going, kissing her jaw and throat, biting gently at her pulse.
"You taste like power," he whispered against her skin. "You commanded me today. You pointed at the sickness and said, 'eat'. I like it when you boss me around."
His hand slid down her back to her hips, pulling her closer. Even through their clothes, she could feel how aroused he was. He was hard.
"Revas, you are drunk," Mirabelle said, her breath hitching. "You don't know what you're doing."
Revas pulled back a little to look at her. His eyes were half-closed, filled with a dark, possessive look.
"I know exactly what I am doing," he purred. "I am playing with my food."
He reached up and touched the ruby choker at her throat. His finger hooked under the iron filigree, tugging her face down to his.
"I could snap this neck," he whispered, his lips brushing hers. "It is so fragile. Like a twig."
He kissed her.
The kiss was anything but gentle. His mouth pressed hard against hers, tasting of the curse's metallic tang and the sweetness of the apple he'd eaten. He bit her lower lip until it bled, then soothed it with his tongue.
Mirabelle's mind went blank. The bond overwhelmed her. She felt his hunger...not for food, but for her. He wanted to consume her, to merge with her, to keep her at the center of his world.
She found her hands tangling in his white hair, pulling him closer. She kissed him back, pouring all her rage and adrenaline into the motion.
Revas groaned, a low animalistic sound in his throat. He rolled them over, pinning her beneath him.
He hovered over her, his hair falling around their faces. He looked both beautiful and a little wild.
"Mirabelle," he breathed, saying her name like a prayer to a dark god.
He lowered his head and kissed her collarbone, his hand sliding up her thigh, bunching the skirt of her dress. His fingers brushed the bare skin of her leg, hot and calloused.
"Revas," Mirabelle gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders. "Stop."
Revas froze.
His hand stopped mid-caress. He rested his forehead against her chest, panting heavily. Revas shuddered as he fought against his own instincts.
"Command me," he rasped, his voice strained. "Tell me to stop, Mistress. Use the chain."
Mirabelle looked up at the ceiling. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. She wanted him. God, she wanted him. But not like this. Not when he was out of his mind on magic.
She reached for the spectral chain in her mind. She pulled it tight.
"Sleep, Revas," she ordered softly.
Revas shuddered. The tension left his body instantly. The red glow in his eyes faded, eyelids drooping heavy.
"Cruel," he mumbled, collapsing on top of her. "So... cruel..."
Within seconds, his breathing slowed. He was asleep, heavy on top of her, his face pressed into her neck, one hand still gripping her thigh.
Mirabelle lay there in the dark, listening to the monster snore.
She touched his hair, smoothing the white strands.
"I know," she whispered to the sleeping room.
She didn't push him away. She closed her eyes, surrounded by his warmth, and for the first time in her life, she felt truly safe.