Waiting.
The tavern hums around us, alive with music and voices that rise and fall like waves. I’m distracted, swirling what’s left of my drink in its glass, when a looming figure appears beside our table. He’s hard to miss—a large man with auburn hair, a striking red beard, and warm brown eyes that hold an easy confidence. A deep red mask covers the upper half of his face, its edges lined with subtle embroidery that catches the light.
His gaze sweeps the booth, pausing briefly on me before settling on Sera, who’s already leaning forward with a curious smile.
“Would you honor me with a dance?” he asks, his deep voice laced with charm as he extends a hand toward her.
Sera places her fingertips against her lips in mock surprise, her eyes sparkling.
“Oh, a gentleman,” she coos. “How rare.” She tilts her head as though considering, then says, “But, really, I couldn’t…”
I snort softly, drawing her attention. “You couldn’t?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Since when?”
She narrows her eyes at me before turning her full attention back to the man.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to steal the spotlight,” she says, feigning modesty as she places a hand delicately over her heart. “The other dancers might get jealous.”
He grins, undeterred. “Somehow, I think they’ll manage.” His tone is teasing but steady, and I catch the gleam of amusement in his eyes.
Sera bites her lip, clearly enjoying herself, then glances at me.
“What do you think, Lailah? Should I?”
I lean back, giving the man a measured look, then say with mock seriousness, “If you’re going to borrow her, just make sure you return her in decent condition.”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm, his grin turning playful.
“Noted. Though honestly, I’m more worried about making it back in one piece.”
Sera’s laugh is light and teasing as she slips her hand into his.
“Oh, you should be,” she says, her voice dropping just enough to add a sultry edge. “I’m not exactly known for playing fair.”
I roll my eyes, standing to nudge Sera toward him. “Go on,” I say, exasperated but smiling. “Before you scare him off.”
“Not a chance,” Sera replies, tossing me a wink before letting him lead her toward the dance floor.
As I watch her disappear into the crowd, I shake my head, suppressing a small smile. The music swells, and the sound of laughter follows me as I weave through the throng of people, makingmy way to the bar. Another drink seems like a good idea right now—something to occupy my hands and my thoughts.
But as I glance over my shoulder toward the dance floor, I can’t help but feel a familiar weight settle in me. The kind of quiet that comes when you realize you’re alone, even in a room full of people.
The air feels heavier as I weave through the crowd, my mind still distracted by the memory of him. The way he vanished, like smoke in the wind, should’ve been enough to let me push him from my thoughts. Yet here I am, my pulse uneven, thinking about eyes that seemed to pierce through the room and find me.
I'm nearly at the bar when a sudden shove sends me off balance. A woman stumbles carelessly into me with a loud, raucous laugh, her drink sloshing precariously close to my dress. My feet skid against the uneven floor, my body tipping before I can catch myself.
But I never hit the ground.
A hand seizes my arm—strong, steady, and startlingly warm.
"Careful," a voice murmurs, deep and smooth, and something inside mestops.
I look up, and the air is stolen from my lungs.
Thereheis.
The entire room blurs around the edges, its noise fading to a distant hum. All I can hear is the deafening drum of my heart. The world narrows to his touch, the warmth of his palm burning through my sleeve.
His piercing green eyes, sharp and shadowed, hold mine captive. They gleam beneath the dim lantern light—emeralds dipped in darkness, ancient and knowing. His hair is not black, as I first assumed, but deep brown, faintly tousled, with a natural wave that settles in loose, unkempt layers. And then there’s the dimple cutting into his cheek—an almost mocking detail that softens nothing, only making him more unbearable to look at.
