I hesitated for the space of a breath. Maybe two. And then, without letting myself think, I stood up on my toes and pressed my lips against his.
Pleasure bloomed through me, spreading from the place where our mouths touched and all the way down to my toes.
His lips were so warm, and somehow hard and soft at the same time, and they tasted sweet and floral and also a little tart, like a strawberry plucked a morning too soon. Thatshivery-ness was there, too, intensifying as the kiss deepened, as if to tell me that this kiss—like the invitation and the mask and the party as a whole—wassignificantin some way I had yet to understand.
And I wantedmore.I ached to slide my arms around his neck and press my body up against his, slipping my tongue between his lips to see if he tasted just as good on the inside. But some of my inhibitions were still in place, and I had just enough self-control left to override the more reckless urges of my body.
I pulled back, hoping the mask hid most of the flush on my cheeks. I buried my face in my goblet, taking a long swig of my drink while I recovered.
When I looked up again, he was watching me with open amusement.
“Did you enjoy your taste, then?” he asked.
“It was…delicious,” I managed to choke out. “The Ruby Nectar, I mean. Maybe I’ll get a glass of my own.”
He chuckled, and the sound was just as deep and rumbling as his voice. He lifted his hand toward me, opening his lips as if to say something, but then abruptly he froze, and his head snapped up as if he’d heard something over the music and revelry around us. He twisted, looking over his shoulder.
I leaned to the side and peered around his large frame, trying to figure out what had captured his attention so suddenly. But while there was a lot going on behind him—the room was full and the guests were lively—I saw nothing especially unusual or startling.
“I’m afraid I must leave you,” he said, turning back to me. His eyes were unreadable, but his mouth curled into another smile as he reached toward me again. His gloved fingers brushed against my cheek just below where the mask ended, and his thumb swept gently across my lips. “But this won’t be the last time we see each other tonight, Ms. Parsons.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and stepped into the crowd before I’d even finished processing the heat of his touch against my skin.
I leaned back against the wall, breathless. I wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened, but my heart was galloping in my chest, threatening to run away.
Looks like I’ll have a good story for Esmer and Isaac, I thought, my gaze scanning the crowd for the retreating back of the lion-masked stranger. He was tall and distinctive enough that I thought I’d be able to find him, but he’d somehow disappeared in the chaos of the party.
My half-full goblet was still in my hand, and I took another swig as I reached down and unclasped my purse with my free hand, grasping for my phone. I was eager to message my friends and get their perspective on this situation.
“Well,thatwas interesting,” trilled a voice on my left.
I lowered my goblet and looked over to see a woman in a crimson ball gown and a white-and-crimson mask sweeping nearer, a glass of Ruby Nectar in one hand and a scarlet feathered fan in the other.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said to me.
I frowned. “Like what?” Maybe she could explain what was going on here, as my encounter with the lion-masked stranger had left me with nearly as many questions as it did answers.
The woman stepped closer, leaning in for privacy. From this distance, I could see that her golden hair was studded with rubies.
“Usually the Crestwoods don't make an appearance untilmuchlater in the night,” she said.
Something fluttered in my stomach, and though I was starting to understand where she was going with this, I wanted to be sure. “What do you mean?”
She gave a tinkling laugh and batted at my arm with her feathered fan. “Don’t you know who you were just kissing?”
I shook my head, the twisting in my stomach intensifying as my cheeks went hot.
“No,” I confessed. “He wouldn’t tell me his name. He said that was the point of all this.” I gestured at my mask. I didn’t mention that even without the masks, I wouldn’t have recognized a soul in this room.
The woman gave another laugh. “That was Octavian Crestwood, my dear.”
Even though I’d guessed she was leading this way, my body went cold with shock, then hot again. “He never said… He should havetoldme.”Or I should have guessed.Not just because of his confidence or his charm—both of which I imagined young billionaires had in spades—but because of how much he seemed tobelonghere, at this strangest of parties, with his embroidered suit and his enthusiasm for mystery and pleasure. Even this woman in her elaborate gown looked like she was simply playing dress-up.
“Octavian always wears a lion mask,” the woman told me. “George always wears a wolf. And Alastor wears a dragon.” Her large gray eyes blinked at me from behind her mask. “Don’t you know this already? I thoughteveryoneknew this.”
“This is my first time here,” I admitted, then drained the rest of my goblet.I kissed Octavian-freaking-Crestwood.
“Hm.” The woman looked me up and down, taking in my simple silver evening dress. “I can see that.” She had the sort of no-nonsense bearing that made me suspect that when she wasn’t attending masquerades, she dominated a boardroom somewhere.
