I acknowledged him with a stiff nod, then moved to get around him.
“Nox, it’s me,” he mumbled under his breath. “Everett.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve certainly looked better.”
He raised his glass to his lips. “And you look like you’re about to punch a wall.”
“This place puts me on edge.” My eyes roved over the crowd until I found Scarven’s tall frame. He was right next to the table Devora lounged at.
“I know what you mean,” Everett muttered darkly. “Knowing they’re all down there somewhere while we’re up here drinking and dancing…” He trailed off and downed his glass.
The prisoners. Somewhere on these grounds lurked more of Scarven’s prisoners. I felt it too. The overwhelming guilt, the urge to act, the need for justice. It pounded in my head like a drum.
“We’re coming back, Everett,” I murmured into my drink. “This is only the beginning. We’ll get them out.”
It’s what we kept promising ourselves when we were stuck in this in-between phase and couldn’t risk taking action. I knew he’d told his girl he was coming back for her. I imagined it devoured him, the idea of being so close and yet so far away. It was probably why he’d requested to come tonight—to feel closer to her, even if there was nothing he could do.
“Showtime,” he said softly, breaking me from my thoughts.
Scarven prowled to Devora, who was standing at a table by the grand staircase. His hand landed on her lower back as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, and my vision tunneled.
“It’s a rare pleasure to meet someone I haven’t already grown bored of,” he said to her, so low I had to strain to hear with my Shifter senses.
She turned, assessing him from his feet up. Her gaze flicked to his eyes, and she smiled a sharp, wicked grin that had me holding my breath.
“It sounds like you should keep better company, my lord,” she said, spinning her empty glass between her fingers. “If you’ll excuse me.” She dipped her head, then twisted away from him and made her way to the nearest drink station, her hips swaying in a deliberate rhythm.
“Oh, she’s good,” Everett muttered.
She was. Just the right amounts of confidence, defiance, and reverence. In this moment, she held power over him. The difficult part would be keeping it.
Sure enough, a few moments later, he reappeared at her side. I turned my back so he wouldn’t catch me watching, but my Shifter hearing was tuned in to their conversation.
“You’re right,” he said. “And I plan to rectify that immediately, Lady…” He trailed off.
Her low chuckle brushed against my ears. “Trust me, Lord Scarven, I’m no lady.”
“Ah, but you’re a challenge, aren’t you?”
I heard his footsteps, then her heartbeat picked up speed. I squeezed my glass so tightly, it almost shattered in my grip. She was trying not to be frightened. I hated standing by while my people were put in uncomfortable positions.
“You seem to know who I am with merely one word, and yet, I’m still at a loss for your name, love,” Scarven continued. “That’s hardly playing fair.”
“Of course I know who you are. This is your party, isn’t it? Everyone here from Mysthelm has heard of the legendaryKane Scarven.” She sounded closer to him, and I resisted the impulse to turn around.
Everett was right, though. She was playing this perfectly.
Scarven hummed. “And what have you heard of me?”
“That you’re powerful. A bit ruthless.” There was a slow click of heels, and I imagined her circling him with that smirk of hers. “And you always get what you want.”
“Not always, it seems,” Scarven responded.
A pause. And then—“Selena Nyte, my lord.”
“Ah, Miss Nyte,” he said, the words practically a hiss. “Would you join me for a dance?”
I couldn’t fight the urge to look away any longer. I turned, taking in the room in a wide arc, pretending to survey the guests when my gaze snagged on them. Scarven leaned forward to take the glass from her, then slid his hand around her hips.
