I stared up at the silver mask around his eyes, my heart pounding as I had a sudden awareness of a breeze going up my dress.
“You’re lucky I’m quick,” he remarked, his voice as dark and mysterious as his eyes.
Gripping his shoulders, I righted myself. “Sorry about that.”
“Quite all right.” His thin lips curved up in a smile.
The man was taller than Christian but lean. His white suit blended in with the crowd, but the purple tie didn’t match anything having to do with a winter theme. Perhaps he had a rebellious streak. My kind of people. When he reached for two drinks, I stared at his long black hair. Niko had nothing on this fellow. His mane went all the way down to his lower back. How much shampoo did a guy like that need?
“Care for a drink?” He offered me a steaming glass of cider.
“I’m waiting for the adult drinks,” I informed him with a casual grin.
“Come now. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
I reluctantly sipped the cider. The night was young, and I had plenty of time to get wasted.
He set his glass on a standing table without taking a sip. “Mine is too hot. Will you dance with me while it cools?”
Dance? Who the hell did I look like? Ginger Rogers? “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. You’ve already seen how I walk into a room.”
He took my arm, led me to an open space where others were dancing, and guided my hand to his shoulder. “Follow my lead, Miss…”
“Black.”
“Charmed. You can call me Mr. White.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Is Black yours?”
I smiled. “Touché.”
“I can always spot a Mage.”
I cringed when I stepped on his foot. “What gave it away?”
He examined my eyes closely. “You’re obviously not a Vampire or Chitah. Sensors usually wear gloves at these affairs, and those who don’t rarely touch strangers, let alone dance. A Shifter wouldn’t waste her time or her reputation with another Breed—not in a place like this. Not in front of high society.”
“I could be a Relic or a Gravewalker.”
He chuckled. “Definitely not a Gravewalker. They have a certain look about them that you don’t have.”
“A crazy look? I have that too.”
“No, like they haven’t slept in two weeks and are high on caffeine. A Relic? Possibly… but then we touched.” He gripped my hand tighter and pushed energy into me.
It startled me so much that I stopped dancing and pulled away.
He held his grip. “That’s an unusual reaction from a Mage.”
His light was intimate and intoxicating—dark but not sickly. As my fingertips drank him in, I realized he was giving me sexual energy. I’d only experienced that with one other person—my Creator. Fletcher often juiced my energy, but sometimes his sexual light leaked into the exchange.
I wrested my hand away. “I know you’re trying to make a point, but don’t do that again.”
He bowed. “My humble apologies, Miss Black. That was crude of me.”
But the suspicion in his eyes said otherwise. He must have wondered why a Mage wouldn’t be the least bit interested in an energy exchange. I’d seen this type of foreplay all the time—hands touching as couples flirted with their light. All it did was remind me of Fletcher, and suddenly I needed a drink.
