“Your anguish, his hunger.” Valec’s eyes simmer as he returns to my side, draping an arm over my shoulder. “Best if he takes a beat before he touches you, powerhouse. Right now, you’re all anger and suffering, and so is he. Bad combination.”

“I don’t—”

“Your misery is palpable, Bree.” He leans down to my ear, breath warm against my cheek. “I can taste it in the air, on the back of my tongue. Kane’s demon isn’t quite strong enough to take over, but if it were, he’d devour your pain like a fine wine, sweetheart.”

William just said it downstairs. Full demons must consume aether and human emotions. Cambions don’t need either to survive, but Sel away from his Oaths is more demon than ever right now. More demon than he’d let me realize. More like… Kizia.

Bile rises in my throat again; my stomach roils. The idea of Sel feeding from my misery. Erebus, Cestra… they warned me what Sel would become. Erebus told me what a Merlin who succumbs to his blood wants. They want what all demons want: fear and anger and strife. Creating pain in others just to ravage it for themselves. “I would say you look… devourable.”

My voice is a broken whisper. “Did you do this to me… trick me, lie to me, to create pain you could… feed on?”

Sel jerks as if I’d hit him. “No!”

Valec’s hands land on my shoulders and give them a squeeze before stepping aside to survey Sel with growing frustration.

“You’re probably only a few weeks from your duties, but the minor Oaths wouldn’t take a Merlin down like this. It’s that goddamn Kingsmage Oath that packs a punch. Forever until death?” His face sours, like the words have turned rotten in his mouth. “The Order really does a number on Merlins with that Oath-and-service trick. And people complain about my contracts? My terms are child’s play compared to theirs.” His eyes flicker crimson as he sneers, “ ‘The Line is Law.’ An utter and complete scorching pile of rotting archaic garbage—and you can tell that pompous bastard Erebus Varelian I said that.”

“You know Erebus?” I whisper.

His eyes narrow to red slits. “We’ve met.”

Abruptly, Valec sighs, long and heavy. The red in his eyes swirls to brown, and he snaps his fingers. Louis appears beside Sel, a waiting expression on his face. Valec assesses Sel, then makes a decision. “His debt is paid. Take him away, give him a shot of the strong stuff, and tell the staff it’s last call. We’re headed to the roof.”

Louis grasps Sel’s arm. There’s a beat before they go, when Sel could have looked at me. Could have said something, done something. But he doesn’t look, doesn’t speak, and then they’re gone.