Thank goodness the drinks chose that minute to arrive. They were mesmerizing, something that glowed purple and tasted like bad decisions. I was halfway through my second an hour later, warm and buzzing, when I excused myself to find the bathroom.
The Nectar Nook’s facilities were predictably bizarre—a carved alcove with a door made of woven vines and a mirror that showed me looking slightly more attractive than I actually was. Flattering enchantments, probably. When I emerged, he was waiting.
“Did the garden grow you just for me?” the man said, blocking my path back to the table. He was handsome in that obvious way—all sharp cheekbones and artful stubble, shirt open enough to show geometric tattoos that pulsed with their own light.
“That’s a terrible line,” I said, trying to step around him.
He moved with me, still blocking. “Is it working?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then let me try another.” He leaned closer, and I caught the scent of honeywine and something darker, more predatory. “You look like someone who appreciates danger.”
“I look like someone trying to get back to her table.”
He laughed, hand landing on my arm. His touch was warm, confident, possessive in a way that made my skin prickle. “I’m Fenric. And you’re the human everyone’s talking about.” His fingers traced up my arm, getting bolder.
“People say a lot of things they don’t understand.” I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened slightly.
“They also say you’re with the failed prince.” His eyes flicked toward our corner table, where I could just make out Kaelren’s dark silhouette. “But he seems… distracted.”
I followed his gaze to see one of the Florakith servers practically draped over Kaelren’s chair, laughing at something Bryx had said. Kaelren looked like he wanted to commit murder, but he wasn’t moving away. My chest tightened with something ugly and irrational.
“We’re not together,” I said, the words tasting bitter.
“Perfect.” Fenric’s hand slid from my arm to my waist, pulling me slightly off balance. “Dance with me. Just one song.”
“I should get back—”
“They won’t even notice you’re gone.” His other hand found my hip, and suddenly we were moving toward the dance floor whether I’d agreed or not. “Come on. You look like you need to forget about brooding princes for a while.”
The alcohol and his insistent pulling made it easier to give in than fight. The dance floor was crowded, bodies pressing close in the dim light. The rhythm was hypnotic, compelling, pulsing up through the floor and into my bones.
Fenric could dance, I’d give him that. He moved like water, confident and smooth, pulling me into the rhythm until I forgot to be self-conscious. His hands started at my waist but grew bolder with each song—sliding lower, pulling me closer, fingers spreading possessively across my lower back.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured in my ear, close enough that his lips brushed my skin. “Especially the marks. They make you look wild.”
“Wild?”
“Untamed. Free.” His hand slid even lower, just above the curve of my ass. “Like someone who doesn’t follow rules. Someone who takes what she wants.”
I should have stopped him. Should have pushed away. But the alcohol made everything soft-edged, and some petty part of me wanted Kaelren to notice, to care that someone else was touching me.
“Smooth talker,” I managed.
“When properly motivated.” He spun me, then caught me against his chest, both hands on my hips now, holding me flush against him. His fingers traced the edge of where my marks disappeared beneath my clothes. “Andyou’re very motivating. I bet those marks go everywhere, don’t they?”
“That’s—”
His hand slid up my side, thumb brushing the underside of my breast through the fabric. “I’d love to find out. There’re rooms upstairs. Private. Comfortable.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t think.” His lips were at my ear now, his hand growing more insistent. “Just feel. Just—”
Fenric suddenly wasn’t there anymore.
One moment he was pressed against me, the next he was flying backward, slamming into the wall hard enough to crack the living wood. Kaelren materialized from the crowd like violence given form, carved marks blazing black, corruption spreading from his hands in visible waves.
