I count the exits in my head again as I finally see him. He’s standing almost in the middle of the ballroom, shaking hands with other men, his disgustingly calm smile on his face like always, light blond hair stuck to his scalp backwards.
My insides tremble. I’m not usually nervous, but this time I have a lot to lose.
I have everything to lose.
She will appear any time now and I don’t like her being exposed here in the middle of those monsters. I’m used to pulling every string in this city, even Lucien’s, though he likes to pretend otherwise.
But the moment she stepped into this mess, something cracked. I’m not in control anymore. Not where it matters.
I spot her before anyone else does.
My little fox.
In a red silk dress that looks like it was poured on her, long V-neck showing her chest, slit on her left leg exposing a bit of her toned thighs, long legs settled in strappy heels, exposing her feet.
I was devouring those feet in bed not long ago, but still—Jesus. My mouth waters. I can almost feel her in my mouth.
Her hair falls in soft waves down her shoulders, and eyes that don’t belong in this world. They’re too alive, too curious. She’s trying to act calm, but I see it—the tremor in her fingers, the way her chest tightens every time someone brushes too close. Michael is guiding her through the ballroom.
I want to hold her, keep her next to me, but I can’t. That would be fucking obvious. Lucien knows I never take companions.
Lucien notices her too. Of course he does. Predators always smell purity before blood. He walks toward me, stands next to me without any words and just leans in my direction without breaking eye contact with her.
“That’s the journalist, isn’t it?”
I just nod.
“You didn’t tell me she was so delicate.” His voice is like smoke. Soft, toxic, and expensive.
I don’t answer. My jaw tightens.
“You’ve done well bringing her here, Kasien,” he continues, smiling as if we’re just two friends chatting over a drink. “You really think she’s worth keeping alive?”
The way he saysalivemakes my stomach twist.
“For now, yes. She’s useful.” I say firmly, without emotion in my voice. Lucien smiles wider, resting his glass against his lips.
“Useful can mean many things.”
He walks toward her.
The room feels smaller. My pulse slows—predator focus. I watch every step he takes, how his eyes drag up her body like knives. She notices him too, forces a polite smile, bows her head.
She doesn’t know who he is yet. She will. Lucien reaches for her hand, lifts it to his lips. She doesn’t flinch, but her eyes flicker toward me, just for a heartbeat.
I know, baby.
I step forward before I even realize it.
Lucien’s gaze slices toward me, amused.
Fuck.
“Careful, Kasien. You’re getting attached,” he says, shooting me a glance.
He lets go of her hand and drags his thumb along her wrist—a small, claiming gesture that makes my vision blur with red.
“You forget who owns the pieces on this board,” he murmurs, voice for my ears only.
