His eyes did, too, as did the twisted, mischievous smile on his lips. As with Octavian, it was obvious he was attractive beneath the mask, but I saw none of his brother’s warm charm. Instead, there was a wickedness to George, and I suspected that even without the mask he would have looked positively wolfish. I got the distinct impression that I would be devoured if I wasn’t careful.
“If I’ve offended you in some way, it wasn’t intentional,” I told him. “I didn’t come here to lay claim to your brother or anything.”Despite Esmer’s best efforts.“I don’t even know why you guys invited me in the first place. No one’s bothered to explain that to me yet.”
That mischievous gleam in his eye intensified, and his smile went a little crooked. He looked like he was on the edge of madness—but at the same time, like a stealthy, deadly predator in absolute control of himself and the situation around him.
“Would you have preferred we didn’t invite you at all?” he asked.
“I never said that,” I answered automatically. “I just think it’s rude to insult one of your guests when all I did was answer an invitation and agree to dance with someone who asked me.” I crossed my arms. “If you didn’t want me here, then you should have left me off the guest list.”
“Who said they didn’t want you here?” That twisted smile became a hint more devilish.
“I…” It was obvious that George was playing with me, and I suspected I wasn’t clever enough to hold my ground, let alone outwit him. “What kind of name isGeorge, anyway?”
That question seemed to startle him, the wicked amusement in his face disappearing behind a frown.
“What’s wrong with my name?” he demanded.
“It just seems so…” My mind scrambled for the right word and couldn’t find it, so I tried again. “Your brothers are named Alastor and Octavian. Those are such unusual, regal names. George just sounds a little out of place next to them.”
“A number of kings have been named George,” he countered, sounding legitimately offended. “It’s plenty regal. And I’d hardly call itout of placein this world.”
“I don’t mean the whole world,” I said, wondering why he’d even assume that. “I mean in your family. And…well, just look at you. You don’t look like a George. You look like a…” I stared up into his silver mask with its sharp wolf-teeth, and then at the intense, wicked eyes behind it. “I don’t know what you look like. But the name George isn’t nearly dangerous enough.”
A little of that devilish humor was back in his face, and he took a step closer. “Are you calling me dangerous?”
Once again, my tongue had run away with me, and I quickly shook my head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it?” Another step closer, and now he was as close as he’d been when I’d run into him and was pressed against his chest. There was only an inch of space between us, and he was near enough that when I looked up into his eyes I could see a dark ring around the outer edge of his forest green irises. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.
“I just meant that the name doesn’t suit you. That’s all.” My voice sounded slightly strained. “But I don’t even know you. We’ve just met. Maybe once I get to know you a little better I’ll change my mind. I didn’t mean to insult you or anything.” Something tugged at the back of my mind—a reminder that my phone was missing, and that it was really important I find it again—but I was distracted by the man looming over me.
The corner of George’s mouth twitched, like he was fighting the urge to smile. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, just continued staring down at me with an amused, hungry look that made me feel like a rabbit cornered by an actual wolf.
And then, suddenly, he said, “You’re right, of course.”
“I’m right?” In my surprise I forgot to be wary. “About what, exactly?”
He leaned closer, dropping his voice. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Octavian, but he still had to stoop to put his lips at my ear. “George isn’t my real name.”
I wasn’t prepared for that revelation, and my head jerked up, knocking into his. Once again, his arms came up to catch me, and his hands gripped me just below the shoulders. This time, though, I didn’t immediately pull away. Thatshivery-ness had returned, emanating from the place where his hands wrapped around my skin. Unlike his brother, he wasn’t wearing gloves.
“Then what is your name?” I asked. I’d only just met this man, and I didn’t know a thing about him other than the fact that he was insanely rich and quite different from his brother, but my curiosity was like a living thing, starving for more information about this place and these people.
He didn’t fight his smile this time, and he dipped his head closer again so that no one would overhear us. His voice, still smooth and thick as molasses, danced across my ear.
“What will you give me if I tell you?”
I went very still. In that moment, it was impossible not to think about the fairy stories I’d read as a child, where some foolish mortal had entered into a bargain with one of the fae. Sometimes they got what they wanted, but it always came at a heavy price.
But those stories weren’t real, I reminded myself.Magic doesn’t exist. And George—or whatever his real name is—isn’t a fairy or a sprite or whatever. He’s just an eccentric rich guy who’s teasing me.He obviously got a very different sort of pleasure out of these parties than his brother Octavian. The question was, did I play along or not?
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything you would want,” I said finally.
“I’m not picky,” he replied. “In fact, I’d share my true name in exchange for a secret.”
“A secret,” I repeated, both confused and intrigued.
“Why not?” He was still so close that his breath stirred my hair. “One secret for another. I consider that a fair trade, don’t you?”
