I sat back up with a triumphant “Ha!” but he snatched the glass away again before I could get a drink.

   I pouted. My head was so warm, dreamy light as marshmallow cream. At some point, we’d shifted enough so our feet were touching on the footrest under the bar.

   I paused, then moved my foot a little. It was enough to signal to him this was a person he was touching and not a chair leg, and to do the least awkward thing and move away. He didn’t. I sat straight again, and even though I could tell my leg would fall asleep pretty soon in this position, I didn’t move, either.

   At the opposite end of the bar, a couple had started kissing. In the past few minutes, they’d nearly crossed the line into not-appropriate-in-public. “Kiss,” I said, drawing out the s sound.

   “Hmm?” It was a little dreamy, a little unfocused, and I realized that he wasn’t perfectly sober, either.

   “Kiss. I never thought about it before. Isn’t it a strange word? Such a cute word. Like the combination of bliss and . . . kitten. Kissssss.”

   We both watched the couple. His hand crept under her shirt. She nearly knocked their wine off the bar. My foot pressed a little harder into Stellan’s. His pressed a little harder back. “Kitten . . . bliss?” he said.

   Except now I was watching him. He turned and caught me.

   “All I’m saying,” I said, flustered, “is there’s got to be another word for kissing like that.”

   Stellan smiled; his teeth grazed his lower lip, pulling it into his mouth. Our feet still didn’t move. “Time for you to sober up,” he said. “I’m ordering you coffee.”

   “Like you’re sober.” I shoved him again, hard enough that I nearly knocked him off his stool.

   He grabbed both my wrists with one hand. “More sober than you. You’re making a scene.”

   I wrenched one hand away and clapped it over his mouth. He turned back to me, eyes dancing. “Shush,” I said.

   “Mrmph,” he mumbled, warm breath behind my hand. I pulled away an inch. “Bet you cannot go ten seconds without laughing,” he said from behind my hand, and propped an elbow on the bar facing me.

   I dropped my hand and mirrored him. “Go.”

   My mouth twitched for a few seconds, trying to giggle. His eyes danced merrily, the inner ring of gold especially bright in the dark. But slowly, the laughter left him.

   I was on the very edge of my bar stool. We were facing each other more than we were facing forward now. Our knees, which had already been touching, pressed together purposefully. I felt my lips part.

   “Stop it,” he breathed, his voice even lower than usual, accent a little thicker.

   “Stop what?”

   “You know exactly what,” he said, mockingly. My earlier words in his mouth.

   I glanced down at our legs, back up. After a second, I said, “Why?”

   Neither of us moved. “Kuklachka,” he said. “You never answered me. What do you want?”

   I exhaled. I didn’t know if it was the fight with Jack, or the vodka, or the music and the dark. Or if all that was only allowing me to feel what I’d been trying not to feel for so long. All I knew was that the knot in my chest was starting to come undone in his hands.

   “Do you remember the rest of the meaning of toska?” he said. “Sometimes you want something you think you shouldn’t.” There was less than a foot of space between our faces. “You’re not even sure you understand it.” I could see the pulse pounding at his throat. “But not having it feels like you can’t breathe.” For the first time, I noticed my breathing. How shallow it was, how quick.

   He leaned even closer. “You want to find the tomb for more than blackmail. You like the idea of all that power. Of having control over your life.”

   I couldn’t see anything in the world but his face.

   “You even want the power we could have together,” he went on. “Then you wouldn’t be alone. You liked it when we said something and people listened.”

   I swallowed. He looked at my mouth.

   “I think you’re even starting to care about the Circle. To want to be part of them. You want to be wanted. Say it. I want to hear you say it out loud.”

   I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. My body wasn’t my own. My voice wasn’t my own. I didn’t want it in the way some of the Circle did. I didn’t care about money, fame, ruling the world. But the rest of it . . . An hour ago, I would have denied it all. Now . . . “I want it,” I whispered. Stellan was still watching me, rapt. “I want all of that.”

   It was so wrong to feel those things. To feel absolutely anything over and above wanting to save my mom. I couldn’t believe I’d just said it out loud. But I felt light. Free.

   A smile flickered across Stellan’s face. His pupils looked huge in the low light. “What else?”

   A thrill shivered through me, hitting low in my stomach. A minuscule shift, and one of his knees slipped between mine. He looked down at it. I did, too.

   “Little doll, is there something else you want?” he murmured.

   I stared into his eyes. It was only a moment, but the moment dragged back as far as I could remember, like we had never been anywhere but here, suspended precariously between yes and no, between want and don’t.

   I felt terrified. I felt powerful. I felt bold.

   I nodded.

 

 

CHAPTER 28

   Stellan stared at me for a beat. Two. Then he stood, abruptly enough that I pitched off my bar stool. He caught me, tossed a handful of euros on the bar, then took my hand and led me outside.

   We made it almost to the bottom of the steps.

   He turned abruptly, leaving me standing one step higher; he gathered his fingers in my dress and pulled me against him.