Page 28 of A Vicious Love

“I’m going to find Emmie,” My voice shook, but it came out clear enough.

Jamison blinked once. Shocked. His expression darkened.

“Sienna.”

That warning had stopped me hundreds of times.

Tonight, my ankle hurt, and some exhausted part of me refused to keep hurting politely at his side.

I turned and walked away.

CHAPTER FIVE

SIENNA

The Starlight Conservatory Ball was my favourite event in Harlan. Even before I was old enough to attend, I used to beg my mother to let me stand at the top of the stairs and watch the cars arrive. I loved the women in pale dresses, the men in black tuxedos, the lanterns hanging through the glass corridors, the music drifting out over the winter gardens like something from an old fairy tale.

The conservatory itself was made of curved glass and black iron, with a ceiling. Thousands of tiny lights hung from the beams like trapped stars. White orchids climbed the pillars. Silver ribbons trailed through branches of indoor cherry blossoms forced to bloom out of season. Beyond the glass walls, the gardens were dark and wet from rain, and every path glowed with lanterns.

It felt enchanted.

I knew better than to believe in enchanted things.

Still, I loved it.

I arrived with Jamison because the invitation was formal and because, after the last event everyone in Harlan would be watching us.

I sat beside him in the car with my hands folded in my lap. My heart tapping too quickly, and tried not to look at the side of his face.

He had not spoken to me since getting into the car.

He wore a black tuxedo tonight, elegance only made him look more brutal. Dark ink showed at his throat where his shirt sat open by a single button. More tattoos marked his hands, climbing over his knuckles and disappearing beneath his cuffs.

I had always loved his hands.

That was a stupid thing to admit, even to myself.

They were too big and too violent-looking to love. Hands that had blood on them sometimes, though I had trained myself not to think about where it came from.

Still, I had loved them. Maybe because they were the only part of him he sometimes gave me.

Hand, please.

My foolish little ritual.

The car turned through the conservatory gates.

I leaned closer to the window before I could stop myself.

It was even prettier than last year.

The whole front entrance had been draped in white flowers, with silver branches woven above the doors and little glass birds hanging from them.

Jamison said nothing.

I smiled anyway.

I wanted to be happy tonight. One night where the beauty was stronger than the ache of standing beside him.