All overis an exaggeration, but I don't bother correcting him when Baelfire's nostrils flare and Silas looks equally pissed off.
I should leave them and look for the changeling since I don't know how long the Matched Ball will last. But this tiny, petty form of revenge is too wickedly entertaining to stop now.
7
BAELFIRE
Silas steps up beside Maven,looking as possessive and pissed as I feel. He's gripping his bleeding crystal, gaze darting about mistrustfully at anyone nearby. Though we're out of everyone's earshot, that doesn't stop them from staring. The tension in the ballroom is thick enough to taste since everyone is on edge after the Immortal Quintet's announcements.
"Were you just flirting with that legacy,sangfluir?"Silas demands.
Maven shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly, but the expression on her face as she lifts her glass back to her perfect lips is full of warning.
"I can flirt with anyone I want."
"Like hell you can," I grit.
She takes a sip, and I bite back a groan as I watch the muscles of her throat work.
When I spotted my mate across the dance floor earlier, I thought I had accidentally wandered into my own personal wet dream. The dress she's wearing shows off her shoulders, back, and most of her legs—though she's still wearing her kick-ass black combat boots, which is cute as fuck. Whoever did hermakeup added sultry touches around her enchanting eyes and dark lipstick that I’m fantasizing about having smeared all over me.
The result is that my dick doesn't stand a chance. I'm rock-hard gazing at this dark queen.
Mine, mine, mine,my inner dragon growls.
Yeah, she is.
Except she was just fuckingflirtingwith someone else.
Everett starts to say something, but Maven downs the rest of her drink and cuts him off, skirting around all three of us.
"If you're done with this caveman performance, could you point out who Collins is? I'd like an orgasm or two, and apparently, that incubus throws a lot of orgies."
Blistering wrath scalds my insides at the idea of anyone outside our quintet giving Maven pleasure. Before I can get myself under control, I grip the back of the choker built into Maven's dress and use it to turn her around, snarling, "Don't even think about it."
Instead of the fury that I expect to flash across her face, Maven's dark eyes glitter, and she smirks.
Fuckingsmirks.
Oh, shit. My sadistic little wet dream is doing this on purpose. This is her way of putting us through the wringer and getting even.
My heart pounds as I twist my grip in the back of her dress tighter, need for her making my cock hard as fucking steel in my suit pants.
"You enjoying this, baby? Tell me, how wet does it make your panties knowing you're torturing us?"
"Hard to tell when I'm not wearing any."
Fuck. Me.
Knowing I could lift up her fluttering skirt and find her pussy bare and ready makes me groan. Silas looks equally torturedfrom where he stands behind her. His hand slips up to tangle in the back of her hair until we're both gripping our cruel little caster to keep her in place.
When he tugs on the dark hair at the nape of her neck, Maven's eyes grow slightly hooded as she gazes up at me. I catch a hint of her addictive, delicate scent and wrap my other hand in the top layers of her skirt, swallowing tightly as the needy tension hums between us.
Gods, I want her. I want to get her alone, rip this damn dress off of her, and see how she punishes me for it.
"No panties, huh? Sounds like you want my tongue between your pretty thighs instead. Say the word, and we'll show you just how fucking real this has always been, Mayflower. No bets or games."
She blinks. "Mayflower?"
