Page 207 of Reckless Obsession

Viktor’s mouth twitches.

Then I look at him properly.

He is in a black suit vest over a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled precisely to his forearms. No costume. No mask. No attempt whatsoever to honor the theme. He looks like he was on his way to a board meeting, got trapped at a supernatural convention, and decided to judge everyone silently until someone freed him.

“Why are you not in costume?” I ask.

“I am too old for this.”

“Oh yeah that’s true,” I say mockingly. “You turned thirty this year.”

He gives me a murderous glare, and I bark out a laugh.

“You’re so boring.”

That is when I notice it.

Viktor’s attention has shifted.

Not casually. Not in the normal way people glance around a party when they are bored.

His gaze has settled on one person.

And stayed there.

Tyler.

He is standing close to the bar, talking to Lucas with a cocktail in hand. He is dressed as Poison Ivy, and because Tyler cannot do anything in moderation, he has gone all the way with the costume.

The corset is deep green, fitted at his waist. Sheer green tights frame his long legs beneath a skirt made of sculpted leaves. The red wig he’s wearing falls over his shoulders in glossy waves, styled perfectly around his face. His makeup is immaculate: green shimmer sweeping over his lids, warm bronze contour, red lips, little painted vines winding along his cheekbone.

He looks beautiful.

Not pretty.

Not merely dressed up.

Beautiful in that dangerous, impossible way that makes the room seem to rearrange itself around him. The curve of his waist, the length of his legs, the easy confidence in his posture. Tyler could bring a roomful of men to their knees without even trying.