In years past, Anna had smelled of lavender water—now there was a different scent to her, shed by her clothes and skin as she moved. Something rich and dark, like tobacco and sweet resin. The red-tinged light of the pendant turned her eyes to a color more like her brother’s, a sort of purple. Her cheekbones stood out like the blades of knives. Her mouth was rich and lush and full, the dark red color of berries. Ariadne’s throat tightened.

“Listen to me,” Anna said. There was nothing urgent in her voice, only a flat finality. “It has been four months since you told me you would win me back. I am not to be won, Ariadne. Love is a prison, and I have no desire for shackles. They would clash with my outfit.”

“But I love you,” Ariadne said, “and I do not feel shackled.”

“It has led you to imprisonment in this pantry,” Anna pointed out.

“With you,” Ariadne said. She raised a hand slowly, moving as if she were trying not to scare off a wild animal. Her fingertips grazed Anna’s cheek. Anna caught her wrist in a hard grip. She inclined her head; she was ever so slightly taller than Ariadne, especially in boots. “So I am happy.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Anna said. “Do you want to know why?”

“Yes. Tell me. Tell me why I’m a fool.”

Anna put her mouth to Ariadne’s ear. She spoke in a near whisper, her warm breath stirring the hair at Ariadne’s temples, her lips grazing Ariadne’s skin. “Because I will never love you,” Anna murmured. “I will never be with you. We have no future together. None. Do you still want me to kiss you anyway?”

Ariadne closed her eyes. “Yes. Yes.”

Anna’s mouth captured hers in a hard, bruising kiss. Ariadne gasped as Anna’s hand came up to tangle in her hair. Ariadne had never kissed Charles save for a few stiff pecks on the lips in public. She had tried, before him, kissing other boys and had found it seemed ridiculous to her. Two people mashing their faces together for no good reason.

With Anna it had been different. It was different. How had she nearly forgotten? The heat of Anna’s mouth, the wine-and-roses taste of her. Ariadne surged up onto her toes; she bit and licked at Anna’s lower lip and felt Anna’s arms go around her, tightening. Lifting her.

Anna was strong, as all Shadowhunters were strong: she lifted Ariadne as if she weighed no more than a handkerchief and deposited her on the edge of a shelf. Now that her hands were free again, Anna returned to her task with redoubled attention. Ariadne whimpered, arching back, as Anna ravished her mouth, parting her lips—licking and sucking, kissing and biting, a masterful whirlwind that left Ariadne breathless and frantic.