18. Rahzlyn #2
When my gaze snagged on a figure worthy of Allory’s description, I nearly tripped. There. That had to be him.
Seated at an intimate, low-to-the-ground table not far from the stage was a striking man with fair skin. His demeanor was calm yet commanding, contrary to the lustful enthusiasm from those around him. Even with a mask, his face was captivating.
A shiver coursed through me as I was guided back into the suite.
I ensured every candle in the room was lit until only the scent of jasmine filled the air.
I doused myself in more of the glittery tonic with shaking fingers.
I buried my face in my hands, careful to avoid my lips contacting the glitter.
“Pull yourself together,” I rasped. It didn’t work. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t do this. I was going to die. Basil was going to die—
Heavy bootsteps scuffed from behind. I froze. Someone else was in the room with me.
Looming past my shoulders in the mirror’s reflection stood a masked figure donned in white boots, gloves, pants, a long-sleeved fitted tunic, and a scarf around his neck. Tendrils of black curls peeked from beneath his hood.
It was him. The man from the crowd.
King Zephyr.
I cleared my throat, raising my chin to greet the king of Gemini.
He was only a man, a human, I reminded myself.
Except he wasn’t; he was a Chosen. A royal with elemental magic, capable of sucking the air from my lungs with a twitch of his fingers.
Capable of creating gusts strong enough to crush me with the flick of his hand.
Perhaps his gifts also included stealth, for I hadn’t heard him come in. Not a knock or even creak of the door. I wasn’t ready for what needed to come next. “It’s rude to enter without permission,” I blurted.
Great first impression. I recovered by bowing with lowered eyes. I could do this. I was adept at flirting—I simply needed to act the way I had for Markus.
“Apologies,” I said more breathily. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
His footsteps paused before slowly resuming. I held my breath until there was only silence. Heat licked at my back where he hovered. In the mirror, my gaze trailed and caught on his linen pants that stretched taut over muscled thighs.
He wasn’t just powerful in name or magic.
“Don’t stop there,” he crooned almost mockingly.
I frowned at his masked face in the reflection. His white-gloved hand reached out to touch a lock of my hair. I shivered in fear, the warmth of his body too close for comfort.
“So you’re the Black Rose after all,” he murmured, head cocked to study the curl dangling between his fingers. “Fitting, or ironic?”
“Of course I am,” I said quickly, keeping my voice airy enough to sound like Yarah—Thusiah. I wondered what all she had been subjected to. A man of his power and a woman of her station… I didn’t have to guess. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
“You remember me?”
My chest heaved drastically in our reflection. The candles flickered around the room, illuminating only half of his pale, sharp face. While there was something familiar about him, I knew he was testing me.
“Before I dance, I’ll pour us some wine.” I twisted sharply. In my haste, my feet tripped over his. With a startled oof, my knees crashed into the ground. I looked up, my face mere inches from his groin.
“Is this what they call dancing these days?”
My parted lips gave way to a smirk. “You tell me.”
His head cocked inquisitively down at me.
We remained in this scandalous position, the quietness stretching loudly between us.
Perhaps he wanted me to take control. I reached for the band of his pants tucked under the hem of his shirt.
His gloved hand caught my wrist. “What, exactly, is your intention here?”
Heart hammering, I purred, “To please you.”
He released his hold on me. “Do you know what I am?”
“I know that you’re parched.” I rose, my foot throbbing all the way to the bistro table. “It’s a bottle imported from Sagittarius. A favorite of yours.” No response. I was doing far too much of the talking. Something wasn’t right. “Why don’t you get comfortable on the bed, and I’ll—”
“Why don’t you tell me your name?”
The bottle uncorked easily, given Allory had it recorked. I turned to face him with two glasses of wine in hand. “I am what everyone knows me to be. What you know me to be. The Black Rose.”
I drew near him, finding him a few inches taller than myself, and noted his cutting physique. Broad shoulders squared in my direction. Never had I beheld a man so prominent, so striking—masked or not. Allory and others’ words of his looks did not do the king justice.
It was a shame he had such a dishonorable personality.
I extended a wineglass to him. He didn’t take it. I set it on the table beside the bed and tried another approach. With my palm flattened against his chest, I guided him backwards.
His eyes snapped down, and he cocked his head.
I doubted Thusiah handled the king this way, but I was growing desperate.
With a dark, arched brow, he sank onto the bed.
Leaning back into the pillows, he cut his gaze to mine in anticipation for what I’d do next.
He appeared… amused. As if he found this dynamic comical.
The clock was ticking. He needed to taste my skin or drink the damned wine.
If that meant shoving it down his sculpted throat…
Stars, help me. I ambled closer, climbing up to straddle my legs on either side of his lap.
The sheer fabric of my skirt draped over his thighs.
I lowered my pelvis onto his, sucking in a breath.
He wasn’t hard.
Not even close.
My hips rolled in a way that once drove Kole crazy. “Does this feel good?”
He smiled coldly. “I can’t feel anything, sweetheart.”
“Then perhaps you should remove your gloves.” I guided his hands to my thighs and the jewelry that sparkled there. “For a more… intimate touch.”
I suppressed a groan as he maintained an impenetrable level of detachment. I dragged my curls up his torso until my lips hovered over his. The music from the hall, the pressures of what I had to do, all came to a staggering halt as I gazed directly into his eyes.
All Chosens had eyes as unnaturally bright as their talisman that they drew power from. It was well known that they could be identified by their luminescent eyes. Allory made it clear that King Zephyr’s would be subdued, yet still a shade of agate blue.
This man’s eyes were a startlingly deep, transfixing shade of yellow-orange like gold. Like that of a citrine or topaz. I racked my brain for what territory such a stone belonged to.
“Something wrong?” he prompted.
“Nothing, just… your eyes… They’re not blue.”
Heavy silence followed.
I focused on his scarf and lifted it quickly.
Strangely, he didn’t protest. Where a golden neckband with the blue agate stone should have been, his neck was pale and bare.
A chain attached to a quartz stone dangled down his chest. Faint white lines connected between a smattering of starlike formations marked his throat down to his collarbones.
His glyphs. Up close, they were more beautiful than rumors described. I could only imagine how celestial they appeared when they glowed with power.
It dawned on me then. His glyphs meant he was indeed a Chosen, but… the agate stone wasn’t here. I lifted his black curls dangling over his brows. Phases of the moon were etched across his forehead.
Panic seized me. He merely watched, stoic and silent, as I demanded, “You’re not the king, are you?”
Not waiting for a response, I scrambled from his lap. In a movement so fast I scarcely knew what was happening, he was on his feet, cupping the back of my head. With our chests flushed, he tugged on my hair and poured a glass of wine from the bedside table into my mouth.
I screamed as he covered my lips and turned me effortlessly so that he wrapped around me from behind. I kicked and thrashed while he pinned in place. His free hand squeezed my cheeks, and the laced wine trickled down my throat.