He didn’t ask. He simply took. Clasping her hand and pulling her toward the black dance floor.
The orchestra hummed, then dropped into a darker, more urgent beat. A tango.
Daisy dragged her feet. “I don’t?—”
“You must follow along.” His arm enveloped her waist, cinching her close enough that the heat of his chest seeped through her gown. His other hand captured hers, positioning her like a doll arranged for display.
Already moving, he gave her no choice.
The music swept them into motion as much as the crowd. Daisy stumbled, her feet tangling with his in a graceless collision. He corrected her with a sharp tug, pulling her back into position with more force than necessary.
“Relax,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and unwelcome. “Fighting only makes it worse.”
His steps were foreign and impossibly fast, the pace punishing and pulling her in directions she had no way of anticipating.
“Surrender to it. Let me lead.”
Every time she found her footing, he changed direction, tugging her off balance and spinning her until she was dizzy and breathless. When he dipped her, she gasped, certain he’d let her fall, but instead, he yanked her back up, clutching her tighter than before.
“You’re trembling.” His hand slid lower on her back, fingers pressing into the curve of her spine. “I like that.”
His smile held no warmth. When he brought her wrist to his lips, her eyes went wide behind her mask.
“Your pulse is racing. I can feel it right here.” His tongue swept over her throbbing veins as his thumb pressed against the soft skin.
When she tried to pull back, his grip tightened.
“Name’s Hadrian.” He dipped her quickly, yanking her back with a flourish. “Hadrian Welles.” They twirled. “You’ll want to remember that.”
“Why?”
“Because by morning, it will be the only name that matters. The one that claimed your innocence.”
Her lips parted as he spun her out, snapping her back to him like a whip. Her back collided with his chest, and she gasped when his fingers trailed down her exposed belly. But before she could respond, he was twirling her again, bringing her right back to his chest, once again face to face.
He marched her backwards. “I read your file.” He walked her backwards around the perimeter of the room, voice dropping to a lover’s whisper, intimate and obscene. “Responsive. Shy.” His laugh was soft and private. “A virgin.”
She angled her head away, his words a secret she didn’t want to hear.
“We’ll see about that.”
Daisy’s heart raced as if inside a cornered rabbit. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to disappear. But his hands were everywhere, controlling her movement. Her direction. Even her breath.
And if not by him, she’d be seized by another. Every tribute had been snatched up. Handed over. In the grip of giants.
Hadrian Welles was everything fairytales warned little girls to avoid. He was the wolf in the woods and the dragon in the thorns. They all were. Monsters dressed in silk. Trained to speak in eloquent words that rained like poetry while telling scary stories that kept little girls up all night.
They were the shadows that triggered nightmares. By dawn, they would devour everything soft and good in this room.
“You’re not breathing,” he smirked, eyes narrowing as a Cheshire grin curved under his mask. “Careful. You’ll faint before I’ve even begun—not that I mind, of course. Nothing you do can deter me from my plans.” A clipped, peculiar laugh escaped his throat. “And it could be fun, plucking your cherry as you lie limp and helpless at my mercy.”
She scoffed in horror, finally drawing in a breath.
“Better.” His thumb stroked her hip, then yanked her close so not a speck of light could pass between them. Every touch burned like a brand.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you in, 1922. Slowly. Thoroughly.” He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. “By the time the sun rises, you’ll be begging me to?—”
A hand closed around Hadrian’s shoulder from behind, and he turned with a scowl at whoever was interrupting.
