I should hate that. Hate how easily he stakes his claim. But instead, a treacherous little ember of satisfaction burns in my chest.
Along with a feeling a helluva lot worse—jealousy.
Not of the tangled limbs and whispered sighs and gasping mouths. But because I don’t want to share him.
Shit.
I cannot actually let myself fall for him again. Selling my soul for security is one thing. Getting swept up in his…Alder-nessis another.
He leans in, his breath teasing against the shell of my ear, his fingers stroking over the pulse at my wrist. “Doesn’t watching them turn you on? That’s all you’d have to do…just watch.”
I clench my jaw, heat rushing to my face. “This is not the time for whatever fantasy you’re working up in that morally questionable mind of yours.”
Alder hums thoughtfully. “Morally questionable, huh? I’ll remind you of that next time you’re begging me to—”
I slap a hand over his mouth. “Finish that sentence, and I will personally sacrifice you to that pile of sex goblins. No mythical god or magickal beast needed.”
His laugh rumbles beneath my palm. And then,God help me, he presses a slow, lingering kiss against the inside of my wrist.
The spot burns.
His eyes glint as he pulls my hand away from his mouth. “We should at least be considerate guests and sample the cocktails.”
Alder starts to walk into the room, and I snatch his arm, halting him mid-step.
“They think you’re someone else,” I hiss, my fingers tightening around his sleeve. “What happens when they realize you’re not? What happens when—”
He tilts my chin so my gaze lifts to his. “Sweetheart, all these fears you have, they’ll come true if we don’t play along. Now, breathe.”
I inhale, dragging in a breath against the anxiety squeezing my chest.
His hand slides down my arm, finding my fingers, threading them through his own.
“I’ll take care of everything.” His voice wraps around me as he lifts my hand to his mouth, feathering a kiss across my knuckles. “Ready to admit that you trust me?” he asks against my skin.
“No.”
His smirk deepens. “There she is,” he purrs, leading me forward.
Nine
Hushed whispers trail in our wake, heads turning, eyestracking our every move. Or rather,hisevery move. I won’t waste time kidding myself—they’re not looking at me. They’re looking at Alder.
A group of scantily clad guests gather near the far wall, bare skin gleaming with a faint sheen of silver glitter. Their laughter is soft, coy, and their gestures entirely too suggestive as they watch him with unguarded hunger.
“We’re in over our heads, Alder,” I whisper, barely audible over the sensual hum of music, conversation, and wet ball slapping.
“Good thing I’m such a strong swimmer,” he drawls and plucks two crystal goblets from a tray offered by a silver-painted attendant. He hands one to me without looking, swirling his own as though we’re at a fundraising gala instead of in the middle of a sex cult.
My fingers tighten around the glass, the delicate stem pressing into my palm.
Alder drapes his arm across my shoulders and leansdown. “You’re thinking too hard again, sweetheart.”
I exhale, my shoulders relaxing before I can stop them. I swallow down the instinct to regather my defenses, to argue, to resist. Instead, I let myself sink into his warmth.
If he’s not afraid, I don’t have to be either.
Plus, he’s right. Again.
