Something snapped into place. Had he been hesitant to tell us this news because he knew we’d warn him to stay away? I’d never stopped to consider how Horace felt about his precarious position, how much weight the Sentinels had thrusted onto his shoulders. Living a double life, carrying the expectations of both sides of his duties, unable to fully let himself rest or be at peace…and yet he did it without complaint. We were more than a mission to him. More than a job or side project.
We were his only family, and here I was, telling him to keep his distance. Acting as if he meant nothing to us besides another asset to the rebellion.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I said, “You’re important to us, Horace, but not only for the work you do undercover.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “There’s nobody else I’d rather have by my side. You know that.”
“Yeah, and if those bastards get too nosey, just say screw ‘em and come back down here with us lowly folk,” Chaz chimed in.
Horace huffed out a laugh. “It won’t come to that. Wouldn’t want to leave you high and dry without a man on the inside.”
“Rissa would pull you from the palace in a second if she thought you were threatened,” I said. “You’re not a disposable pawn, brother. We need you because of who youare, not what you can do for us.”
Chaz nodded. “Leo’s right. Don’t let yourself get caught trying to be a hero. Or worse, a martyr. Take care of yourself in there.”
With a nod, Horace cleared his throat and swiped at his nose. “Thanks, boys,” he said brusquely. I raised an eyebrow at Chaz. This was the most emotion we’d ever seen from the rough, burly guard.
“Oh, come on, who made Horace cry again?” Rissa said from the back of the shop as she and the other two women emerged.
When I saw Rose, my lips parted on an exhale.
Chaz guffawed. “Like I said. Goner.”
52
Rose
Imet his gaze across the dress salon, and everything around us faded. I didn’t know how I felt about thelookhe was giving me.
It was too much but not enough at the same time. His eyes were dark, hot coals, and I was the flame they craved. Even in the middle of the shop with others surrounding us, he made me feel like I was the only person in the room. The only person thatmattered.
I decided I liked it.
My lips curved into a sinful smirk. I held the lace burgundy mask to my face, batting my eyelashes at the boys. The slit in the matching gown opened to my thigh, and Leo’s eyes drifted across my skin before anchoring back to my eyes.
“Do you like this one?” I asked innocently, turning in a circle to give him a view of the glittering silver buttons that were only done halfway up my back.
“I do,” Chaz called out appreciatively. Leo glared at him.
“I need some help buttoning this,” I said to Leo, motioning toward the back of my dress. Rissa and Lark said something to the other two about finding a mask for Horace, but I was too focused on Leo and the black shirt straining at his chest as he put his handson his knees and slowly rose from the couch. While the others talked, he stalked toward me, the heat in his eyes burning through the layers of this burgundy gown.
“Turn around,” he commanded, and I obeyed.
I set the mask down and faced the full length mirror, watching as his hand carefully brushed my mass of hair over one shoulder, knuckles kissing the nape of my neck. His fingers trailed down the bare skin at my back, eliciting a shiver through my entire body. He met my stare in the mirror as he found the first button.
“Look at you,” he said, lowering his lips to brush the tip of my ear. “So beautiful.”
The entire world could have been drowning and I wouldn’t have cared. I was set ablaze, every part of me honed in on his fingers, his chest at my back, his lips grazing my skin.
He took his time with the buttons. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from our reflection—his sharp jawline shadowed in deep brown scruff, those black eyes that glittered back at me. They swept over the exposed skin at my leg, the fabric clinging to my waist and hips, the dip of the neckline and wine-colored sleeves that hung off my shoulders. His stare made my cheeks blush and my breath catch.
I’d never thought much beyond my appearance besides what it could do for me. Beauty was either a weapon or a shield. Something you were hated or desired for in equal measure. But the way he looked at me, the wayhecalled me beautiful…it felt like devotion. A plea for me to see what he saw, to see past the layers of armor I wore like a second skin.
He thought I was beautiful. Even after seeing my bitterness, my anger and fear and everything in between.
It was…liberating, to be wanted so deeply, despite all of the reasons nobody had wanted me before.Becauseof those reasons. But more than that was the way he made me believe it could be true. The way he helped me see myself through his eyes. A woman who didn’t have to hide. A woman who could challenge others instead of push them back.
“Is this the one you’ll be wearing to the ball?” he asked, fingering the sheer fabric of the sleeves.
I spun to face him and patted his chest. “Maybe. Such a shame you can’t go. I’ll have to find someone else to wear the matching suit.”
