Instead, I look at the fox.
“Funny,” I say, letting the words roll slowly, deliberately. “You’d think in a room full of masks, you’d hide your jealousy better.”
Katherine’s painted mouth opens, then closes.
“Every man here has been watching her since she walked in,” I continue. “But they all know one thing.” I lean closer to the hare, my fingers tightening just enough to make her gasp.
These words are just for her: “I get what I want.”
The fox goes pale. She looks from me to the woman in my grip, then spins and disappears into the crowd.
The woman in white turns her head, and I catch a glimpse of her eyes through the lace—wide, uncertain, defiant. Beautiful.
“Dance with me,” I murmur. It isn’t a request.
She stumbles briefly as I lead her onto the floor, hand settling at her waist, her pulse thrumming against my fingers. She moves stiffly at first, unsure, until the music takes hold.
The masquerade shifts around us, and the lights go dimmer as the music deepens. The scent of pine smoke and champagne thickens, wrapping us in a cocoon of sound. She looks up at me,and for a heartbeat I see past the mask. There’s fire there, buried beneath nerves.
“You shouldn’t let people talk to you like that,” I say.
She blinks, startled. “You heard that?”
“I was watching.”
As her lips part, I catch the faintest tremor of a breath. “Do you make a habit of rescuing strangers?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “Who said I was your hero?”
That earns me a small, incredulous laugh—half fear, half disbelief. It hits me harder than I expect.
Her hand tightens on mine as I turn her beneath my arm. She fits against me perfectly when I draw her back, her spine brushing my chest. The warmth of her body seeps through the satin and into me, steadying something I didn’t know was shaking.
I lower my mouth to her ear. “You’re trembling,” I murmur.
“You startled me.”
“Hmm.” As my lips graze her ear, I whisper, “You liked it.”
My hand slides lower, almost indecently so, before I pull back just enough to meet her gaze. Why does it feel like I know her? Like I’ve been waiting for her?
All around us, masked predators flirt and touch, eyes gleaming behind glass and gold. It’s a pageant of hunger, but for once I don’t feel apart from it—I’m inside it, alive again.
I turn her to face me. “What’s your name?”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
A smile ghosts over my mouth. “No,” I agree, “it doesn’t.”
Her eyes flick toward the exit—nervous, determined. “I should go?—"
Catching her wrist gently, I growl, “Leaving so soon?”
“Someone’s waiting for me.”
We both know it’s a lie. I’d smell it on her if she were someone else’s, I swear it. And her sister—knowing the rumorsspoken about Katherine Lipovsky, I doubt she’d leave at her companion’s request.
I study her for a long, silent moment. And then nod once, coming to a decision. “I’ll walk you out.”
