“Luna,” he purred. His voice lingered in the air, as if he was savouring her name. “It suits you.”
For some reason, his words made her heart flutter. She rather liked that he approved of her name.
Skies above! What has gotten into me?She took another gulp of her drink, hoping to push away the warmth rushing to her cheeks.He’s a unicorn. His words are that of an enemy. It doesn’t matter if he likes my name.A hiccup escaped her lips, and she hurried to stifle it, her giggles giving away her inebriated state.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Damien’s mouth as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. His eyes locked with hers, searching for an answer to something. When he didn’t find it, he asked, “Why are you here?” His voice was soft, hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
She contemplated answering honestly—she’d come to dance—but stopped herself, sensing he wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity. So instead, she turned the question back on him. “What areYOUdoing here is the better question. If anyone doesn’t belong—it’s you.”
She had chosen her words carefully. Not belonging were the first words he had spoken to her during their initial encounter in the gardens. And now, she threw them back at him.
His eyebrows arched, and his gaze sharpened, a flicker of disbelief flashing in his eyes. For a long moment, he studied her, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he were weighing her words carefully, trying to make sense of her response. “Tell me, what’s so different about you and me?” His eyes swept down her body, as if his scrutiny alone proved his point.
Not wanting others to hear, she scooted her chair closer to his and dropped her voice to a whisper, “Besides your reputation for mass murders?”
“Sure.” He shrugged, unfazed. “Besides that.”
“It was a rhetorical question,” she snapped back at him. The difference between them was glaringly obvious. She was a noblewoman, and he was a beast. No matter how handsome he looked as a human, she couldn’t forget what he truly was.
Marion’s laugh rose above the crowd, breaking through Luna’s thoughts. She twisted in her seat to see Marion’s hand on Gregory’s arm and her head tilted back, enjoying something he’d said.
The musician’s tune changed to a whimsical, brisk melody, and Gregory took Marion’s hand and guided her to the dance floor. When they started dancing, their movements were different from the other patrons or any type of dance Luna had ever seen before; it wasn’t very graceful, with their legs moving about every way, but the two of them sure looked like they were having fun. They danced a little too close together, Gregory’s hands a little too low on Marion’s back. Maybe there was a chance Marion would get lucky after all.
When Luna turned back to Damien, his gaze was fixed on her, staring, still waiting for her to answer him. With a long, drawn-out sigh, Luna said, “There’s nothing similar between us. We are of different standing.” She lifted her chin, her voice a little sharper. “You’re a monster, and I’m a lady.”
“A monster, you say . . .” He repeated the word, rolling it over on his tongue, as if testing the truth of the insult. After a moment, he leaned in closer, caging her against the chair and the table. The space between them so close it made her breath hitch. Slowly—agonizingly so—his hand rose, and Luna’s pulse quickened, her eyes widening with uncertainty.
Gently, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with the same measured slowness.
Her body betrayed the calm she desperately tried to maintain as the contact sent a shiver crawling down her spine, a wave of warmth pooling deep in her core.
His smile deepened, and she realized with a sudden sharpness that she had forgotten to breathe. “Let’s not kid ourselves,” he toyed, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke—the sound pleasant to her ears, leaving her craving more.
How traitorous her body was!This is a man of evil,she reminded herself.Nothing about him is pleasant.
He continued speaking, slicing her thoughts, “If you truly thought that, you wouldn’t be entertaining this conversation right now, would you?
He was right. Damn him. This was treason. Luna shoved her chair back and rose to her feet. “I’m not.”
Her sudden motion sent the chair flying into a patron behind her. The man grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. He towered over her. “You. Idiot,” he growled, spittle landing on her as he spoke. “You made me spill my drink.”
Her gaze didn’t move from the hand he held midair, poised to hit her. Panic bloomed in her chest, freezing her in place. She stammered out an apology, her fingers finding the edge of the table to grasp onto, helping her steady herself.
Damien kicked back his chair, the scrape of wood against the floor catching the patron’s attention.
With his eyes glazed over, the patron shouted at him, “Keep your woman in check.”
Darkness blackened Damien’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps popping from under the fabric of his coast. “Is that a threat?” Shadows seemed to flicker in his gaze, ready to burst free upon his command.
Luna’s plea barely rose above a whisper. “Don’t.”
His gaze shifted to hers, magic still swirling in his eyes. “Why not?”
“Because I ask.” Because witnessing death wasn’t on the list of things she wanted to experience. “Please.”
“Very well,” he sighed, the sound thick with irritation. “Let me make something very clear to you,” he said, his attention returning to the patron. “Come near her again, and death will be a mercy.” His voice rumbled as if he could command thunder itself.
A shiver visibly ran through the drunken man, and released her, sitting back down; his spirit wilted as he mumbled something of an apology. A smart choice.
