She took a sip of her champagne, the bubbles dancing on the back of her tongue, then licked her lips. “If I told you, Councilor Lambros, I’d have to kill you.”
August released a hoot of laughter that stirred his cinnamon-blond waves and crinkled his blandly handsome face. “I do believe you could. Something tells me it would be a wonderful way to die.”
He plucked the champagne flute from her hand and threw it onto the tray of a passing waiter. “A dance?”
He didn’t wait for her reply as he hustled her onto the dance floor. She spied a familiar face in the crowd—a stunning one with unforgettable sea-foam eyes and spun-gold hair. Aneka, August’s consort, was perched on the lap of a bruising, tawny-skinned Windrider, the male’s hand working between her thighs as he fed on her lust.
August curled a hand around Cassandra’s waist then grasped her palm as she placed the other on his shoulder, fully aware of the space she’d left between them. A space he attempted to breach with every step, every sway.
“Where in the world did he find you?” August whispered reverently.
She decided to tell the truth; a slightly embellished version of it at least. “He apprehended me in the midst of a crime. I offered him my body in exchange for his mercy. Afterwards, he decided to keep me.”
August’s espresso-brown eyes darkened. “Sinking your fangs in deep. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how much they stung last time we met.”
“Tastes change, Councilor,” she purred, loosening him up and lowering his defenses. She didn’t press her body against him, kept that inch of air between them. She’d use that tactic when it would be the most effective.
As he spun her around the dance floor, her mind whirled, trying to determine the most revealing line of questioning.
“How long have you known Tristan?”
August scoffed. “I was his father’s right hand on the continent before Tristan was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye.”
“His right hand? Sounds like you were rather important. Why did His Imperial Majesty send you away?”
“He didn’t…” A flash of indignation surfaced before August smoothed it over with a smug expression. “I was far too important to the Emperor to stay on the continent. He needed me here in the colonies, overseeing the transition of the humans after the Accords.”
Recalling what Tristan had said in the carriage about the strained relationship between August and his sister, Cassandra went for the jugular. “Overseeing? Or being a lackey in service to a more powerful female?” She darted her eyes towards the Vicereine, curled against Eamon as his hands roved over her feathered wings.
August pulled Cassandra in tight, dipping his mouth to her ear. “Are you trying to get a rise out of me, little human? I assure you, it won’t be the kind you’re intending.” He squeezed her ass and dug his fingernails into her flesh. “Or perhaps you prefer to fight before you fuck, get those passions stirring?”
She made to push out of his hold, but he clenched his arm around her waist. “Now, now, Councilor. I prefer males who aren’t so easily riled. Surely you don’t need to prove your power to a helpless mortal like me?”
He abruptly released her, only to grab her by the throat. “I’ve got more power in my little finger than your master and his brother could ever dream of. It would be unwise to test me. But perhaps I do need to prove it to you.”
He dragged her off the dance floor towards the alcoves. Her pulse fluttered frantically as she scanned the room. Her panicked eyes landed on Aneka—still trapped in the lap of that Windrider—and a flash of concern passed over Aneka’s face before she whispered into the male’s ear, then rushed away.
August ripped open a red velvet curtain and tossed Cassandra onto the curved banquette. Tapered candles in a black-crystal candelabra dripped beads of wax onto a marble.
She held onto her dress, trying to keep the slit closed as August pushed her down against the banquette with his hand at her throat. His other hand worked at his waist, unbuttoning his pants.
His savage sneer revealed the true monster behind his carefully controlled facade, and fear stilled Cassandra’s lungs. “Did you miss the point of the Emperor’s speech earlier? You are nothing. Your kind isnothing. You’re to be shared, used up, then tossed away as soon as your beauty fades. Do you know how many mortal women I’ve had over the centuries? How many yourmasterhas had? You’re not clever, you’re not special, and if I want to fuck you there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He crashed onto her, holding her down with his hips as his rough hands tore at her skirt. She bucked against his weight, snarling, and smacked a hand against his cheek to push his face away as his lips came dangerously close to her throat.
Her mind sharpened, traveling to that distant plane outside her body, and her panic ebbed away as she remembered she had claws of her own.
Her fingers fluttered under her dress and she unsheathed the dagger, whipping it up in a vicious swipe that landed just under August’s chin. A quivering bead of blood bloomed where she’d nicked his jaw.
August backed off, his hands raised and his head tilted to avoid the razor-sharp edge of the blade. “Your fangs haven’t retracted at all, I see,” he bit out, heat blazing in his deep, dark eyes.
The curtains whipped open and Tristan rushed in, his face twisted in panic until he took in the scene. He closed the curtains behind him, snickering and shaking his head. “No means no meansno, Lambros. Shall I ask Ker to carve it into your forehead?”
Cassandra’s heart pounded, her chest heaving as she glared at August, keeping the dagger at his throat.
Tristan slipped an arm around her waist and curled his long fingers over her dagger-wielding wrist. His solid heat against her bare back slowed her agitation. As did the lips he dragged up her neck as he pushed her arm down.
“Come now, my beautiful blade,” Tristan whispered against her skin. “He’s not worth the spilled blood.”
