The hair on the back of my neck prickled and stood on end as the sound of footsteps scraping over dusty stone echoed in the hall. I turned slowly, catching sight of Primus wending his way toward me.
Everyone else had left. Even the Bard had gone back to his luxury penthouse, leaving the newlyweds to a night of wedded bliss. I should’ve gone too, but I was terrified Luvic wouldn’t survive the night—or worse. There were worse things in the world than dying.
Luvic was half-dead, his brother and sister had fled, and I had a bad feeling curling like an iron snake in the pit of my stomach.
Primus paused at the outer ring of moonlight and stared at the place where the three conjurer cousins had died. Their bodies were gone, but the weight of their passing remained. It stained the stone and left a strange feeling in the air. That happened sometimes—a spirit leaving evidence of its passing.
“I enjoyed this wedding,” Primus said, more quietly contemplative than I’d ever heard him. His lips curled—not in a smile—and I felt his attention roaming over my torn dress and the thin, dried-blood scrapes on my arms. “I enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. It pleased me.”
His gaze crawled over me, the dirty, polluted feel coating my skin. I rubbed my hands over my arms, and his lips curled higher.
“You pleased me,” he added.
I nodded, and Primus reached out, cobra-fast, and gripped my chin between his fingers.
I wanted to jerk away or take his wrist, twist it, snap the bones, and leave him writhing on the floor. The urge burned in me, my blood clamoring to hurt him. Primus watched the flickering emotions on my face, and finally, his mouth curved into a true smile.
“I see myself reflected in you. Come. Dance with me.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to check on Luvic. I wanted to make sure he was okay. Instead, I gripped Primus’s outstretched hand. He yanked me to his chest and grinned at my wince.
“You saved Last. Would you have saved me as well, if I’d needed you?”
Of course I would have. It was what I’d been ordered to do.
“Yes, Heir Clark.”
He laughed and twisted his hand. Suddenly, the hall was filled with the goose bump chill of a ghostly funeral waltz. He spun me in a strange, macabre dance.
There wasn’t passion in him. There wasn’t obsession or even lust. The dance reminded me of what Jagger had once said: I was his glove, and he was the hand. Primus only wanted to see how well he could lead and how much he could control.
“Tomorrow,” he said, pressing his cold cheek against mine. “Tomorrow, I’m going to ask for you. Take note. When I ask, you’ll come.”
At that, he shoved me away.
I stumbled backward, tripping over stone. Primus didn’t look back at me. Instead, he stalked from the hall, his black tuxedo glistening in the moonlight. When he disappeared, the music cut off, leaving my heavy breathing and a spine-tingling silence.
I closed my eyes, shuddering, and tried to wipe free the taint he’d left behind.
The wind whistled through the hole in the wall, shoving at the shredded tulle and the torn remains of my dress. It stirred the scent of champagne and a trace of copper and honey. I frowned, gripped my dress, and slipped out of the hall, hurrying toward Luvic’s bedroom.
His door swung open, and I ducked into a side hall, flattening myself against the wall. The door creaked shut, and I peeked around the corner.
Last was standing outside the closed door, her hands clenched, her knuckles white, her face turned upward. She dragged in violent, heaving breaths as if she were on the precipice of releasing an avalanche of rage. Her starkly thin figure vibrated with fury, all of it trapped inside.
She closed her eyes. Took another deep breath. The snarl on her face smoothed. The shaking stopped. She unclenched her hands. Then she opened her eyes and pasted a placid, ice-cool smile on her face.
The breath caught in my throat as she swept her gaze across the hall. I ducked back, behind the wall, and pressed flatly against it.
I shivered with relief as the quick clicking of her high heels faded and then disappeared completely when the front door of the half-built Bard home slammed shut.
I hurried down the hall, my heart racing. The door to Luvic’s bedroom groaned unhappily as I pushed it wide. Light from the hallway shoved past, illuminating his shadowed room.
“Luvic?” I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, leaving smothered darkness.
A streetlamp sent fingers of light through the window. It tapped subtly at the king-size bed, outlining Luvic’s form propped against a pile of pillows.
His shirt was off. I held back a startled exclamation at the jackaltooth scarring sweeping over his skin. Sweat dripped over him. His black hair was damp and plastered to his forehead. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the wall. I’d think he was asleep, except for the tautness of his muscles and his fingers curled in the sheets.
