Page 38 of Reign

She’s very close.

Close enough that I can see the darker ring around her irises. Close enough to watch those brown eyes lift to mine from beneath her lashes, soft and open in a way that doesn’t match the rest of her.

She asks the question casually.

Her body doesn’t.

Her pulse trips. Her mouth stays parted for half a second too long before she remembers herself and closes it.

She leans into my space and waits, curious about what I’ll do with the invitation.

Nothing. Not until she asks with more than proximity.

That doesn’t stop me from imagining my hand closing around her throat.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m alone.”

Her lashes flicker.

Interest.

I glance past her, toward the table she came from. Toward the man watching the room with a soldier’s patience and a lover’s restraint.

“But maybe you should head back to your boyfriend before he decides to come over.”

Elena frowns.

Immediate.

Genuine.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Good.”

Her brows lift.

So do mine, faintly. The answer came out of me faster than I allow, but I don’t take it back.

I don’t know her. She’s one of Adriana’s bridesmaids—pretty, sharp, curious, and standing too close because she likes the heat as much as I do.

Enough for tonight.

Adriana will forgive me for one dangerous impulse at her wedding.

Eventually.

Probably.

Elena lifts the empanada toward her mouth, still watching me. “And even if I did, maybe he’d know better than to interrupt me.”

I look at her hand. Then at her face.

“Don’t eat that.”

She pauses.

The empanada hovers near her lips.