“I don’t like this plan anymore,” he admitted, his jawtightening.
“Lucius,” she said softly.
His mind warred with itself. The plan no longer felt right. He wanted to throw it out entirely, to hold her close and dance the night away.
“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured, shaking his head. His hand moved to her shoulders, his touch warm and steady.
“You’re just saying that.”
“Maybe,” he replied, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s going to be extremely hard to pick a fight with you tonight when you’re looking so ravishing.”
“I’ll find a way to aggravate you,” she countered, patting his chest and stepping past him.
But he caught her arm, his grip gentle yet firm, and pulled her back toward him. He leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear.
“I want one dance with you,” he whispered, his voice velvet-soft.
She shivered under his words, the tremor traveling through her body and into his. Her head tilted slightly, inviting him closer.
“One dance before we fight,” he added, his lips grazing her ear.
Her scent enveloped him—roses, sweet and fresh, with a hint of warm vanilla. He inhaled deeply, savoring it, his nose brushing against her skin. A soft sound escaped her lips, and he felt his control slipping.
“We should go,” she said, her voice breathy, but she made no effort to pull away.
Lucius reluctantly stepped back, forcing a much-needed space between them.
“Stay here,” she said to Wiley. The squirrel chirped happily, settling near a small pile of nuts Lucius had left for him.
Lucius grabbed the two tickets, tucking them into the pocket inside his lapel. He opened the door with a flourish, allowing Tavia to step through.
They left the cozy home and stepped onto the cobblestone street. The evening air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and smoke from distant chimneys. Lucius hailed a carriage, his voice cutting through the quiet night.
When the driver stopped, Lucius gave their destination and opened the door for her.
The gown's train rustled softly as she stepped in, the butterfly wings trailing behind her like a dream.Her dress spread around her in the small space, the glittering fabric catching the faint lamplight.
She gathered the folds of her dress to make room for him, but he moved her hands gently aside, letting the fabric fall across his lap.
Without thinking, he took her hand. Her skin was warm and soft, her fingers delicate in his grasp.
She smiled, her cheeks faintly flushed, and didn’t pull away.
The carriage swayed gently as it rolled down the cobblestone streets, the faint clip-clop of the horse's hooves creating a rhythmic backdrop. Lucius’s hand remained clasped around hers, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns on her skin.
He glanced out the window, watching the flickering streetlamps pass by, their golden glow casting fleeting shadows inside the carriage. The faint scent of wood smoke mingled with the lavender sachets tucked discreetly in the carriage corners, meant to freshen the air.
Lucius’s mind drifted to the night ahead, momentarily clouded by unease. He had been out of society for so long—banished to shadows and solitude—that the thought of mingling among fae,and humans unsettled him. Yet, looking at Tavia, her presence grounded him.
She had a way of pulling him from the darkest parts of himself, of making him feel whole again. Spending time with her had softened the sharp edges of his memories—of captivity, betrayal, and pain. But as his mind touched on her name, a sharp pang of awareness cut through him.
Hacinda would surely be at the masquerade tonight.
Lucius’s grip on Tavia’s hand tightened involuntarily. Would their plan put her in danger? Had he growntoo comfortable, too focused on her, and forgotten the risks?
The carriage jolted slightly, bringing him back to the present. He glanced down at Tavia, who was now watching him, her eyes soft and concerned.
“Lucius,” she murmured, her voice pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.
