Page 92

“A year ago. The day after your birthday.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He attacked me for no fucking reason in the same stupid mask.” His hands come up to his sleeves, rolling them back. “Which reminds me, he and I have some things to clear up.”

I catch his arm with both hands and haul him back with my entire body weight. “Dima. Don’t start anything.”

He looks down at me, one eyebrow raised. “You’re asking me not to start anything? You’re usually the first one asking me to start something.”

I chew on my bottom lip.

He is right.

But tonight I want him bored. Uninterested. As far from Kento as humanly possible.

I open my mouth to say something, but then his phone rings. His whole expression softens. “It’s Rei. I’ll go pick up.”

And just like that, he forgets the fight. He steps away, phone already pressed to his ear, and I sigh in relief.

The relief lasts three seconds, though, because someone grabs my hand.

“Hello, princeling.”

I yank my hand back. “Are you insane?” I hiss, stepping back and glancing around to see if anyone noticed. “Go away. Dimitri might come back.”

Kento’s mouth curves. I can see it clearly now, the way his lips shape around the words, wet and mean. “Go away so you can rut against him?”

My eyes go wide. “What the fuck did you just say?”

I reach for my knife, the one I keep strapped to my thigh under the suit jacket, but he catches my wrist before the blade can even think about coming out. “Let’s dance.”

He yanks me forward.

I plant my feet and pull back. “Are you on drugs? People will watch. If I dance with the mystery Kazuma cryptid, I will never hear the end of it. I will have to kill witnesses. Do you understand the workload you’re creating?”

Kento’s eyes narrow behind the mask. “So you can lean all the way into Dimitri’s skin,” he says, voice dropping, “but you can’t dance with me?”

I tip my chin up. “He is my best friend. Who are you?”

His eyes darken.

And then he comes in close. Right to my ear. So close that no one in the room can hear the single sentence he puts there: “Your man.”

Fuck.

My heart does that fucking thing again.

The thing where it forgets it’s supposed to be a functional organ and just sort of stops, leaving me standing there like an idiot while my cardiovascular system tries to remember how to work.

He grabs my hand and yanks me away from the wall.

I stumble after him, too shocked to resist, and by the time my brain catches up, we are already through a side door and into a hallway I didn’t even know existed.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He steps toward me, still wearing the mask, and takes my hand. “I told you. To dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. That’s—”