It's always fire with Baz. I can't believe he hasn't incinerated me yet. Or burned me at the stake.

Carry on, Simon.

Simon Snow is still going to die kissing me.
Just not today.

Tall. Black hair swept back from his forehead. Lips curled up in a sneer... I know that face as well as my own.

And sometimes holes want to get bigger, but Baz was wrong—sometimes they just want to be filled.

Is it too much?"
"No. It's like you completed the circuit," I say, gripping his other hand. "I feel kind of drunk, though."
"Drunk on power?" he asks.
I giggle. "Shit, Snow. Stop talking. This is embarrassing.