Page 75 of Librarian

I’m not here to interfere, just to make sure she’s safe.

Her eyes open, pale and luminous, and land directly on me.

Stars. I don’t think she’s ever truly smiled at me before. Not like this, all goofy and relaxed.

When she raises one arm and cocks her finger in my direction, she might as well have hijacked my body.

“You’re too pretty to be a wallflower,” she slurs, as I finally get within touching distance, and she all-but topples into my arms.

With a roll of my eyes and a shake of my head, I lead her away from the dance floor. “How much did you drink?”

She doesn’t answer. Her face is buried against my neck, and she sways against me, ignoring the tempo of the new song as she continues swaying to her own beat.

The music is loud, but her voice is louder as she says, “I don’t want to stop dancing, but I also really,reallywant to know what it feels like to fuck you.”

Several McKinleys are now grinning in our direction. “In the morning, you’re going to be mortified with yourself. And for the record, you’re not sober enough for that.”

She grumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Sobriety spells were invented for a reason.”

Yes, they were. However, unless she’s smuggling a scrap between the soft spills of her breasts, she’s out of luck.

Her ankle gives way completely, and I catch her before she can fall. In her clumsy attempts to right herself, she plants one blade-like stiletto directly onto my instep.

I hiss out a breath, eyes squeezing shut. “That’s it. You’re a danger to yourself and others.”

I scoop her up, carrying her bridal-style towards the door.

“Nope. No. Put me down!” Every inch of her that was wild and flirtatious before turns feral with indignation. “I want to dance.” She reaches for her hip, but there’s no holster there.

“You shouldn’t have left your grimoire behind,” I scold as I nod at the woman holding the door open for us.

“If Mathias comes for me, I’m dead with or without it,” she retorts. “I can barely use it.”

That quickly, her anger is gone. Drunk Kyrith is giving me whiplash. Sorrow coats her next words, and her eyes glimmer as she stares into my face.

“Do you think I’ll ever get the Arcanaeum back?”

“I’ll be dead before I see the alternative come to pass,” I promise without hesitation.

Her hand flies to her mouth, and I wince.

That was too honest.

At least she probably won’t remember it in the morning.

I nudge open the door with my hip, pausing when I realise I’ve somehow brought her back to my room again. She struggles, a gleam lighting her eyes when she catches sight of my piano, but I bypass it, heading straight for the bed. I dump her on the sheets, plucking one foot out of the air before she can try to escape.

She’s actually managed to snap the heel. No wonder she fell.

My fingers graze the skin above her knee as I search for the zip hidden there, and she shudders. Her legs fall open, and I take a deep breath, looking to the ceiling as I silently beg the stars for patience.

Of course, she’s not wearing underwear, andof coursehaving her legs in that position has turned the already short skirt into little more than a belt.

“You’re playing with fire,” I warn, drawing the zipper down and moving quickly onto the other boot.

“You won’t burn me,” she mumbles. “Will you?”

I shake my head mutely as the leather drops to the floor. “Never.”