“Well?”
She tilted her face up to his. Her pupils were wide, but that same icy fierceness was still there. Nothing hazy clouded her expression, nor any trace of poison.
“I feel…” She swallowed, licking her lips again, and Quentin couldn’t stop himself from tracking the movement. Her hand grasped his again, her breath hitching as their skin met.
“Just take it,” she finally said, voice nearly a whine.
She didn’t need to ask him twice.
He downed the small glass quickly. It bubbled and fizzed on his tongue, the flavor sweet like vanilla and strawberries. The warmth it ignited was almost immediate, a feeling that burst through his chest and radiated through his body.
Within seconds, it became clear why the lights in these rooms were so dim.
His world burst with color. The blues became richer, the flickering of the candles mesmerizing in their beauty. No longer did the room smell heady; it was now spicy, like the sweetness had masked something richer and more earthy that was only apparent through theeshwa.
And the place where Delaynie’s skin touched his, where her soft palm was pressed against his callouses?—
He couldn’t stop the groan that slipped past his parted lips.
Somewhere, Varyn chuckled. “Enjoy my soiree. I hope you can prove me wrong.” One of the girls draped around him giggled. The music resumed, the beat pulsing through the room.
Delaynie still watched him, eyes wide. They stood in silence for a moment, adjusting to the kaleidoscope of colors around them.
The feel of her hand on his was driving him insane.
“This is a bad idea,” Delaynie finally murmured, hardly loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the music.
“A terrible one.” Quentin swallowed, his voice hoarse.
Delaynie glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe we should move?” She swept her gaze through the room. The people lounging on daybeds had moved on from the excitement of their arrival, bodies now moving and writhing.
Delaynie flushed furiously again. He tightened his grip on her hand, a rush of protectiveness swelling through him. “Okay.” He spotted an empty alcove at the back of the room. Gauzy curtains offered more privacy than standing here awkwardly in the open. As good a place as any to try surviving this night.
Quentin tugged Delaynie toward the alcove. She came willingly, following closely, eyes fixed ahead. Not straying to any of the lewd raucousness around them.
He held the curtain back as she sat primly on a wide, plush bench. The sweet scent was stronger here, but it wasn’t overpowering. It instead settled over his skin like a fine mist, as if he could feel every bead and drop of moisture.
Quentin sat next to Delaynie, careful not to let their skin touch. Everything was so vibrant, so bright, so sensitive. The hand holding was enough to almost make him unravel.
He couldn’t let himself take anything more.
Not unless she wanted him to.
He shut down the thought. A bad, terrible idea. All of this.
Quentin rested his hands on his thighs, gripping his skin through the light linen of his pants. The bite of his nails was soothing, a nice distraction from the scent of coconut and vanilla and the way her shoulder kept brushing his with each rise and fall of her breath?—
A shadow loomed over their alcove. A man dressed in dark clothes and wearing a darker expression peered through the gauzy curtains. A hungry, predatory smile spread over his face as his empty eyes landed on Delaynie, drinking in all her perfect, milky skin.
“What a lovely pearl,” the man said, pushing aside their curtain. “Such a shame to keep you hidden. Why don’t you just come with me?—”
“She won’t be going anywhere.”
The man’s gaze slid to Quentin, lip curling into a snarl. “Says the coward who refuses to touch her. Come, sweet pearl, let me show you a better time than this piece of kelp ever could.”
That was enough. Quentin slid one arm around Delaynie’s back, the other hooking under the back of her thighs. In a smooth movement, he pulled her off the bench and into his lap, her breath catching as her legs landed gracefully over his. Her arm draped over his shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing for her to do.
“I said,” Quentin growled, meeting the man’s glare, “that she won’t be going anywhere. Nowget lost.”
