For a second, I forgot about the pain. Forgot where I was, and my name. All I could feel washim. This mysterious stranger who was about to… God, what was he doing?
His hand locked around my calf, holding me steady as he worked, focused, ruthless. His grip wasn’t gentle at all.
My fingers curled into the grass. This wasn’t a kiss. But my body didn’t seem to understand the difference.
My pulse throbbed wildly, each beat echoing through me, louder than the music, louder than my own thoughts.
He pulled back, turning his head and spitting the poison onto the lawn. I clamped my fingers into the grass, staring up at him. He untied his bowtie, unbuttoned some shirt buttons, then went back in.
My breath hitched. The second time was worse. Or maybe better. I couldn’t tell anymore. His mouth moved against my skin again, slower now, deliberate. I could feel every shift, every drag of his lips, every breath against me. My stomach twisted as his teeth sunk into my skin.
Something dangerous unfurled low inside me. It was hot, unfamiliar, completely at odds with the fear still clawing at my chest. A feeling I’d only chased with my own fingers before. I blushed all over, but not before I forced my fingers in the stranger’s dark hair, pushing him deeper against me.
He stopped for a second, then I felt his teeth painfully grazing my skin, drawing hot drops of blood to leak down my ankle. Shaking, my hands retreated.
The masked man pulled back again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Now, he had blood smeared on his perfectly chiseled jaw. His other palm was still wrapped around my trembling ankle. Like he hadn’t decided to let go yet, fingers digging in hard.
My gaze lifted slowly. Over the sharp line of his jaw, now outlined in my blood. The faint shadow of black stubble. The mask hiding his eyes… Those eyes still glinted darkly, despite the faintly lit night.
“What are you?” I asked.
What did I just let you do to me?
“What am I? What are you? You’re certainly not staff,” he said, letting me go. “So who are you?”
My ankle rolled to the side and I winced as he stood up. He towered over me in his expensive suit, the mask making him look menacing.
“Of course I a-am,” I stuttered, trying to pick myself up.
“Do I look like a fool?” he said, voice bitter.
“How am I supposed to know, with that mask?” I bit back. “I’ve never seen you before.”
He touched his mask with a smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you have.”
I stared back, hard. I knew I would recognize him if we’d met. Especially the near-constant fluttering in my stomach when he was close. That wasn’t a staff mask he was wearing, either. Mine was simpler, just a slip of black silk. His was more complicated, fancier. He was definitely a guest at Papa’s estate.
“Spit it out,” he said. “Are you a guest?”
“I’m a maid,” I managed weakly.
“Fat chance. You don’t work here,” he smirked. “Don’t lie to me.”
“You have no proof,” I blurted out, my mouth shutting when he touched tendrils of my hair escaping the tight bun on top of my head.
“Your hair is the proof. Staff wears it down. Only unwed girls, part of the Five Families, are supposed to wear it up.”
Subconsciously, I touched my braided bun.Damn it.
“But I see we both have secrets to keep, so I won’t ask your name. Don’t ask mine,” he suggested, a devilish smile on his lips. “Agreed?”
I thought about it. About my silly dreams of a first kiss. What he’d done felt more intimate than any makeout scenario I’d conjured in my mind.
“Agreed,” I whispered, attempting to pick myself up.
But when I stepped on the bad ankle, I hissed with pain.
“You’re not walking on that,” he said firmly.
