Page 15 of The Never List
“You’re lying,” he deadpans, not budging an inch. “That mouth again,” he continues. “You should do somethingabout it.”
I tip my chin, not showing him an ounce of the rising panic climbing up my throat. We’re alone in a spot in the palace that is most certainly forbidden. “Oh, I bet you haveallthe thoughts on what to do about it,” I say, my tone slipping into that seductive lilt Erin taught me—a little softer, a little stickier.
“What’s your favorite?” he asks, giving me whiplash.
“Excuse me?”
He draws up his free hand, skimming it along a book on the right of my cheek, completely caging me in now. Something sparks between us, a charge that will either blister or burn, I’m not sure which, but I’m instantly hooked.
“You said you’re a sucker for a good book,” he says. “What’s your preferred poison? Romance, horror, suspense?”
I bite back a genuine, unstoppable smile. “Why can’t it be all three?”
A flicker of amusement flashes in his eyes. It’s the only emotion I can see with the mask covering his face. I have the most ridiculous urge to reach up and slide it off to see what lies beneath.
His eyes narrow behind the mask, searching me, scanning me. Confusion settles there.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“You,” he says, shifting closer. Goddess, he smells good, all leather and smoke. “You’re alone in a room with a stranger. And the music from the party is so loud, no one would hear you scream,” he continues. “But you’re not trembling, not even trying to get away.”
My heart flutters. “Is that what does it for you, stranger?Making women like me scream?”
“Depends on the type of scream,” he says.
Heat crashes over me like a wave. I know I should be scared, but I’m not. Maybe I’m numb from not finding the information I needed. Maybe I’ve known too many men like Turner, therealones to be afraid of, so I can tell on instinct who is a threat and who isn’t.
Maybe I’m too addicted to the rush of danger, like Ivy said.
“What’s your favorite type of scream?” I ask, playing right into whatever game he’s started.
Shock radiates from behind the mask. “I haven’t found a favorite yet, butterfly,” he says, eyes flickering to my pin again. “But if I do, I’ll be sure to tell you.”
The music outside cuts off, the announcer informing the crowd it’s thirty minutes to midnight.
I blink out of the haze the stranger has put me under and jerk to attention at the realization that I’m out of time. Once the Legends choose their potential mate, the party will disperse, and it’ll be an even bigger risk to be caught hanging around here.
I’ll be leaving this Choosing empty-handed. The weight of that hits me dead center in the chest, and I duck beneath his muscled arm.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, following behind me. “You going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
A laugh slips from my lips as I clear the double doors, hurrying down the hallways. “One for fairy tales, huh?”
“Only the darker ones,” he calls, keeping a casual pace behind me that rattles me more than if he sprinted. Even at this speed, it feels like I’m being chased.
And I like it.
The open air is cool and welcoming when I make it back onto the balcony. I spot Ivy and Layce across the way, chatting up a couple of masked fellows that are flagging down drinks and no doubt showering them with compliments. I wonder if they’ve lifted anything from them, or if they might string them along for a night of fun.
The starlight glitters like diamonds beneath my heels as I make my way across the floor, more than ready to join my friends and nurse my wounds back at Ivy’s. I make a mental note to steal a bottle of whiskey on the way out. I’ll have to come up with a new plan to find Erin, maybe one that involves searching every damned royal city for her. Even if she did run away…I deserve answers.
“Dance with me.” I hear the stranger’s voice at the same time he touches my wrist, whirling me around and into his embrace in a move so smooth, it should be criminal. I immediately fall into step with him. His other hand snakes around the small of my back, eliciting a trail of fire anywhere he touches.
Goddess, he feels good, maneuvering us around the floor as if no one else is here. His motions are effortless, like shed silk pooling on the floor. I’m lost in it, swept up in a swirl of emotion that’s too intoxicating to be real. I haven’t had that much to drink, but in his arms, the music and stars twinkling around us, I feel as if I’ve had several.
“What do you do?” I ask, trying to ground myself in reality, even though we’re dancing on starlight.
“Right now, I’m dancing with you, butterfly.”
