Page 136 of Winds of Ruin
She held a small black clutch, which she shuffled through for rouge and applied it to her lips before smacking them together and drawingfartoo much attention from anyone in the room with eyeballs.
I held my breath as she crossed the crowd to me.
“How do I look, puppy?” She spun slowly, allowing me to appreciate her from every angle.
Her hips swayed with more confidence than I’d seen since the early days of making her acquaintance. I set down my wine flute to spin her around by her hand, needing to revel in her glow. Our touch felt charged and indulgent.
The gown dipped between her breasts, and the back was completely open to the waist. Sheer sleeves hugged her arms—freckles poked through the gauzy material.
I drank in every detail, from the way her still-wet hair was pinned neatly at her nape, to the teardrop-shaped amulet that adorned her chest.
“You look incredible,” I breathed out. “And I missed you.”
The second statement slipped out so easily. Both couldn’t be more true. She straightened, meeting my gaze. A bubbly, almost bashful laugh escaped her.Almost.
“I missed you too, puppy.” The gleam in her eye gave me confidence; she meant it. I craved her spark of mischief—the sense of not knowing where she would go next, but wanting to follow her anyway.
With a quirked brow and a tilt of my head, I asked, “Ahh, is that why you fled your bedchamber so quickly this morning? Missed me so much?”
She blushed, and my chest swelled. Everything else in the room slowed.
The string instruments and piano could play all evening.
The guests could get good and drunk.
I’d be busy soaking up every moment that she looked at me with something akin to longing. Whatever affection she gifted me would be worth enduring the Sethe curse a million more times, even if it shattered me in the end.
“Apologies,” she answered. “I had to check in on the West Corridor.”
“I heard. Should I be worried?” Hating the thought of her in the same room as Bringham, I clenched my fists at my sides.
She tsked and cocked her hip.Sources. I loved the way she commanded my attention. “Down, puppy—no political scheming tonight. I need to give you your present,” she said with sultry delight.
A present? My mind sank to ungentlemanly depths.
Oh, right.My birthday.
“How did you know?” I asked.
She huffed a laugh. “Do you think Angeline ever let me forget when your birthday is? I was going to wait until tomorrow, but it suits the jacket.”
She reached forward, extending something bronze. An ornately engraved pocket watch.
“It belonged to my grandfather, then to my father. I found it in some crates above the stable. It seems no one thought to loot the attic, and my parents must have stowed away beloved possessions there.”
She attached the watch chain to my lapel and pushed it down into my coat pocket, her fingers trailing down my chest nonchalantly—as if her touch didn’t set me on fire.
She continued, “I found it decades ago when I returned to Lamoreaux looking for this.” She lifted the teardrop necklace—her mother’s. I recognized it; she’d excitedly recounted the day that Fenris gave it back to her. She only wore it on special occasions.
“Surely, this should go to Fen.” I couldn’t take one of her family’s heirlooms. I placed a palm over the ticking clock in my jacket pocket, feeling the calming thrum of time.
She shook her head. “He wanted me to have it, and I wantyouto have it. So, it’s settled. Happy early birthday, Emmerick.”
She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to my cheek, lingering there for a decadent moment.
This would inevitably end so terribly for me.
She held my tender heart. I’d let her tear it up and stomp on it if she wished to—it was dreadful and wonderful.
