“If you think that counts, maybe you haven’t been kissed.” Jacks shoved off the statue and stalked closer, towering over her once again. “It’s not a real kiss if there isn’t any tongue.”
The blush she’d been fighting burned hotter until her neck and her cheeks and her lips all caught fire.
“Why the hesitation, pet? They’re only kisses.” Jacks sounded as if he were holding back another laugh. “Either this Luc is horrible at using his mouth, or you’re afraid to say yes too quickly because you secretly like the idea.”
“I do not like the idea—”
“So, your Luc is a hideous kisser?”
“Luc is an excellent kisser!”
“How do you know if you have nothing to compare it with? If you end up with Luc, you might even wish that I’d asked you to kiss more than three people.”
“I don’t want to kiss any strangers—the only person I want is Luc.”
“Then this should be a small price to pay,” Jacks said flatly.
He was right, but Evangeline couldn’t simply agree. Her father had taught her that Fates didn’t determine one’s future as their name suggested. Instead they opened doors into new futures. But doors opened by Fates didn’t always lead where people expected; instead they often led people to new desperate deals to fix their first bad bargains. It happened in countless stories, and Evangeline didn’t want it to happen in hers.
“I don’t want anyone to die,” she said. “You can’t stop the wedding by kissing anyone there.”
Jacks looked disappointed. “Not even your stepsister?”
“No!”
He brought his fingers to his mouth and toyed with his lower lip, covering half of an expression that could have either been irritation or amusement. “You’re not really in a position to bargain.”
“I thought Fates liked bargains,” she challenged.
“Only when we make the rules. Still, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll grant you this request. I just want to know one more thing. How did you get the door to let you in?”
“I asked it politely.”
Jacks rubbed the corner of his jaw. “That’s all? You didn’t find a key?”
“I didn’t even see a keyhole,” she answered honestly.
Something like victory glimmered in Jacks’s eyes, then he captured her wrist and brought it up to his cold mouth.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Don’t worry, I’m still not going to kiss you.” His lips brushed over the delicate underside of her wrist. Once. Twice. Three times. It was barely a touch, and yet there was something incredibly intimate about it. It made her think of the other stories that said his kisses might have been fatal, but they were worth dying for. Jacks’s cool mouth dragged intentionally back and forth over her racing pulse, velvety and gentle and—his sharp teeth dug into her skin.
She cried out, “You bit me!”
“Relax, pet, I didn’t draw any blood.” His eyes shone brighter as he dropped her arm.
She ran a finger over the tender skin he’d just sunk his teeth into. Three thin white scars, shaped like tiny broken hearts, lined the underside of her wrist. One for each kiss.
“When do—” Evangeline looked up.
But the Prince of Hearts was already gone. She didn’t even see him leave; she just heard the door to the church slam shut.
She’d gotten what she wanted.
So then why didn’t she feel better?
She’d done the right thing. Luc loved her. She couldn’t believe he was marrying Marisol of his own free will. It wasn’t that Evangeline disliked Marisol. Truthfully, she barely knew her stepsister. About a year after her mother had died, Evangeline’s father had gotten it into his head that he must marry again, that he needed a wife to look after Evangeline in case anything ever happened to him. She could still remember the worry that had replaced the light in his eyes, as if he had known he didn’t have much time left.
Her father had only been married to Agnes six months before he died. During that time, Marisol never stepped inside the curiosity shop where Evangeline spent most of her time. Marisol said she was allergic to the dust, but she was so skittish around anything slightly strange, Evangeline always suspected her stepsister was really afraid of curses and the uncanny. Whereas Evangeline and Luc used to joke that if they were ever cursed, it would just prove that magic existed.
It was laughably sad that Evangeline now had that proof, but she didn’t have him.