Chapter Eighteen Damien
Chapter Eighteen
Damien
They looked like they’d been about to kiss.
Her lips had parted less than an inch from his, her eyes peering up in a question. And the way he gazed at her, like a man who wished to devour her alive—
I’d spent the past twenty minutes on the sidelines, eavesdropping on various conversations—most centering around the still-missing Dusk—when the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
When I turned, drawn by some invisible hand, I saw that look on his face.
How his expression evolved from innocence to something more.
I loathed it.
Before I could stop myself, I was moving.
The spineless bastard reeled as I brusquely cut in, his jaw clenching at my interruption.
One I shouldn’t be making. A slight furrow grew between the lord’s brows as he gave me a rough once-over.
Something akin to recognition flashed in his stare, there and gone in a blink.
Though he’d only seen me disguised as a waiter, and even then, he hadn’t paid attention to the “help.”
“Ah, this is…” Wren stepped back, dropping Everett’s hand as if it were on fire. She motioned to me and said, “This is Lord Ca-Cassington’s son from up in the Far North. He’s on a visit to see Andalay.” I watched the delicate bob of her throat, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip with nerves.
Bet she hadn’t expected me to interrupt their far too cozy dance.
Surprise.
“Thanks for the introduction, Lady Wren,” I said with a smirk, careful to mask my accent. Fates, it took effort. “I’m not a well-known face around here.”
My eyes wandered to that damned lip she kept tugging. She had to be doing that on purpose; driving me mad. Taunting me.
A beast had overtaken my body when Everett put his hands on her. It had yet to leave.
And it was hungry.
As if she realized where I strayed, she released her bottom lip and smoothed her features. Her eyes grew sharper, her posture straighter. My sunshine pulled herself together with a single blink, donning her mask with ease.
“I hear the duke never leaves the far north,” Everett interjected, forcing me to look away from Wren. Everett’s eyes narrowed as he sized me up. “Nor do his sons.”
I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. The only information I held on the lord currently staring holes into my skin had to do with those glasses of his he kept tucked away. They calculated numbers or accounts or something special that made him popular. And a very rich man.
I returned his appraisal with equal venom. Wren could do much better.
“Well, I left the north,” I snapped, much more sharply than intended. “I was growing tired of all the snow.” I waved an idle hand as if the conversation bored me. Which it did. “Time for a change of scenery.” My focus centered on Wren as I spoke—mainly to piss off Everett.
Wren’s eyes, which had been dulled yet serene while dancing with Everett, blazed, the flecks in her irises morphing into golden fire. A warning to play nice. Cute. Didn’t she know I thrived on living on the edge? Her caution made me all the more reckless.
I winked at Wren when a new song played. Physically sliding between Lord Pompous and her, I grabbed hold of her gloved hand. I didn’t give a shite if he remained standing behind us like a fool. Her soft gasp had been worth it.
Wren peered over my shoulder, practically bouncing on her toes, as I angled my body, hiding Everett’s departure. When I was certain he’d slunk off in defeat, I released the tension in my shoulders, my feet moving us along the dance floor.
“What are you thinking?” Wren demanded, all of her previous charm gone.
Red danced over her cheeks, the rouge painted there making her skin blaze as if on fire.
I liked this version of her better. Not the mask she wore—it was a bore, and Wren’s brazenness ignited my own flames.
“You can’t antagonize people like that,” she scolded, “and Everett is actually nice.”
“Nice?” I snorted, my free hand moving to her waist. “He’s putting on an act to get beneath your skirts. You’re welcome for the heads-up, by the way.”
“He’s…he’s not trying to do that.” Wren skewered me with another burning glower. “Some people are simply kind without wanting something in return. He’s had the opportunity to charm me when no one could bear witness, and he was nothing but a gentleman. Maybe you wouldn’t understand that.”
They’d been alone together.
That thought by itself made my throat tight.
“Oh, little na?ve Wren,” I forced out, attempting to sound unbothered. “Seriously. How would you survive on your own?”
I was being an arse, I knew this, but screw it. She couldn’t walk around with blinders on for her entire life. She’d get hurt. I wasn’t sure when the idea of Wren coming into harm’s way had begun to bother me, but thinking of her hurt or heartbroken now…it pissed me the hell off.
Was she already heartbroken over her father? Fates, I hadn’t actually asked.
I didn’t know what it was like to have parents of my own, but it must’ve gutted her. Yet I hadn’t considered the inner turmoil she battled; loving someone even if they were a villain.
“I don’t want to fight with you now, Damien. There’s too many people staring. All because of your little, and quite unnecessary, show,” she muttered, her feet moving in sync with mine. The dance was thankfully a simple one I could keep up with, and most couples simply swayed to the lulling melody.
“Fine. We won’t fight.” I tugged her closer and a whisper of a gasp left her. I liked that sound, so I inched her forward again. Her lips parted as mere centimeters separated us. A scandal, surely.
When she leaned back, I watched as she removed a single red rose from her braided crown of blond hair. Watching with rapt attention, I froze as she tucked the flower inside my jacket’s breast pocket.
“Much better,” she said, almost to herself.
My throat worked, the flower seeming to weigh a thousand pounds and yet lighter than a feather with each breath.
“How do you know how to dance?” she asked, drawing my attention from her small gift.
“Ruby taught me,” I said, moving into place, the rose’s sweet scent wafting to my nose. My friend had relented after I nagged her for most of yesterday. The hours spent stepping on her toes hadn’t pleased her.
“Oh, and I have a name for our list,” I added as the seconds ticked by—us embracing, a tender hold with our arms wrapped around each other.
We weren’t pressed together in some alley, and for some reason, this felt…
it felt intimate. Raw. Not me. “Elizabeth Saridon ring a bell?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry.
The words came out like I’d swallowed dust, and I silently cursed when beads of sweat slid down my spine.
I was off my damned game.
Wren’s lips twisted and her gaze strayed while she pondered.
“Lizzy. Yes, Lizzy Saridon.” Her attention circled back to me. “She’s older than me and Callie. I hadn’t considered her in years before all of this.”
I huffed. “Well, she’s been surrounded this evening by so-called friends flaunting their gifts, and one of them made a comment about how they should play nice, seeing as ‘Lizzy here doesn’t have one.
’ ” I almost stopped in my tracks when I’d passed by that backstabbing group of friends.
Judging from the look on Lizzy’s face, she hadn’t appreciated the companionship.
These people might be wealthy and powerful, but they could be just as cruel as those in the Void. More so, even. At least my people had the respect to say what they meant without feigned niceties.
“She might be a suspect,” Wren mused. “Her family isn’t well known, as Lizzy lives in Ward Five.
While I never pegged her as someone with aspirations, all these years of being overlooked could’ve sparked something.
A need for revenge.” Wren made a deep sound of frustration.
“Did she appear off? I mean, how are we to know how our perpetrator would act in public? Her grief could be an act. Or she may be using that as a facade.”
My hand lowered farther on Wren’s waist, but she was too busy rambling about Lizzy.
Fates damn her for wearing this dress. She embodied the image of a siren. A vixen. Sin itself. My fingers dug into her lush hips, yearning to explore lower, my fingers toying with the many satin ties at her back, untying them in my mind.
The whiskey I’d had on the way over here had not been a good idea.
“Wait!” Her entire face brightened. “I have a suspect too! Adrian Hockley. He never got his gift either. Apparently he was furious. Still is.” Now her fingers dug into my shoulder. Excitement caused her reaction, her face aglow with delight.
She looked too beautiful. It hurt, a physical ache taking residence in my chest. Looking at Wren Hayes was akin to looking at the sun for too long. Both brilliant and blinding.
Where the hell is all this coming from, you sap?
“Anyone else attend these balls who doesn’t have a gift?” I asked through my teeth as she inadvertently leaned against my chest. I felt every breath she took. Each exhale.
Why did she have to meld her body against me like this? Press her head beside my thundering heart as if she felt safe right there in my arms? Didn’t she know I was the predator? She should be shoving me away, not holding me.
I couldn’t recall the last time someone had held me.
“Hmm, maybe Olivia Waterstone,” Wren pondered, having no clue as to the havoc she wreaked upon me.
I took in a deep inhale, trying to calm myself and see reason, but I scented something soft and floral.
A new perfume she wore. The seductive smell invaded my nose, making me lightheaded as heat coiled in my belly.
Once more, she had no hint as to what devious things went on in my head.
“But Olivia is married off with five children and never gave the impression she cared. Lizzy, too, seems well-off,” Wren continued.
“She’s neck-deep in riches, and her husband is a viscount or something.
He travels a lot so she lives with her parents at the moment, but they plan to move west. The viscount knows the king and queen personally. ”
Ah, the famous King and Queen of Aurilia.
Of course, they resided in the western region, away from the Fates and their palace.
I bet they were jealous. They were nothing but old ornaments of the past in a run-down castle, from what I’d heard.
All they did was go on parades and perform works of charity.
I suspected the Fates would’ve done away with them long ago if the royal family held any ambition whatsoever.
“You sure she’s not hiding anything?” I asked, turning to the side to avoid that delectable scent. It didn’t work.
Wren suddenly twirled, forcing me to go along with the motion. I barely pulled her back before she tumbled. Ruby and her dance lessons were failing me. To be fair, she hadn’t much time to teach me.
Winded, Wren said, “No, I think she’s in the clear, but we keep searching. Already we have two names.” Her chin canted and her bewitching eyes held me fast as a small smile lifted her lips. “By the way, you look rather handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”
Such a simple statement. My body didn’t agree.
A silent curse rang through me as she openly admired my attire, her eyes finally landing back on my face with a brilliant gleam. All I’d done was wear the damned suit and slick back my dark hair.
“It’s nothing,” I managed to grit out. “Thanks for the suit.”
“It’s not the suit,” she said quietly. “I mean, it fits well, but you seem confident. That’s all.”
I’d die before I admitted the garment did bring out a certain sense of self-assurance. Like none of these bastards could touch me. To them, I was a visiting noble—if Everett spread the word, which I doubted.
I smirked at her compliments, returning to one of my favorite games to play with my little princess. “Am I making you flustered, sunshine?”
She missed a step, but I caught her, a small laugh leaving me when I took in her pursed lips. “Flustered?” she repeated as if it were ridiculous. “Why would I be?”
“Because you’re squeezing the life out of my hand at the moment.”
Her attention fell to where she held me in a viselike grip. I hardly felt my fingers, but I instantly regretted telling her. She dropped her hand immediately.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, brows pulling together. “It—it must’ve been the excitement of uncovering suspects.”
“Of course.”
Wren put more distance between us. I found I had to stop myself from chasing after her.
“We should grab a drink and peruse the room,” she remarked stiffly, her mouth thin, tugging down at the sides.
“Three suspects aren’t enough. Well, two, seeing as Olivia doesn’t attend balls or events, and she wasn’t at the last gathering. ”
She started for the drinks station and I followed, watching how her delicate dress swayed against the polished flooring.
Wren was a vision tonight, I could admit it.
Half the eyes in the room homed in on her, and not because of any gossip regarding her gift.
Men’s and women’s eyes lingered on her voluptuous form, not bothering to be subtle in showing their appreciation.
I quickened my pace and curved my body around hers, glowering at a young man staring straight at her chest.
“Your daring outfit is causing a lot of…distraction,” I mumbled.
Wren picked up two glasses. The liquid inside shone blue, and I made a face. What drink was blue?
“Are you going to be like my mother, Damien?” She lifted a threatening brow. “I wear what I like. Not my problem if people stare.”
She was right. It wasn’t her problem—or mine—and I admired how she wore what she wished. Then why did I feel like a bastard who wanted to grab a damn shawl and toss it over her shoulders?
“I think we should sneak upstairs and check out Adrian Hockley’s rooms.” Wren took a sip, briefly closing her eyes at whatever flavor danced on her tongue. “Wait. Seriously,” she sighed, “try this.”
Fine. I took the other glass from her hand and tested the drink.
Shite. It was good. Like blueberries with a hint of raspberry.
“Damien?” I tore myself from the drink and followed Wren’s pointed stare. She gazed steadily at her father and Lord Hockley, who were making their way out of the ballroom. The latter trudged behind Hayes, his already red cheeks nearly purple. They vanished a moment later.
“You thinking what I am?” she asked.
“Oh, you know it, sunshine.”