2. Masquerade pt II
Chapter 2
Masquerade pt II
B rinley had told herself to brace for the probability of an alpha or two at the masquerade. She’d even made sure to apply an extra lather of her scent-blocking lotion just before slipping into the dress, for which she was extremely grateful. One rubdown with the lotion was usually sufficient defense, in combination with her daily hormone suppressants, for a full day. But on an average day she didn’t have to mingle in such close quarters with so damn many alpha types!
Most had no interest playing social hour with the new girl. Anonymity or not, odor diffusers or not, it was clear the majority of the attendees were returners and well familiar with each other. Whether that was from too many drunken masquerade parties or life outside the masks, Brinley didn’t know. Regardless, she was a stranger to them and most everyone knew it. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told the hottie in the wolf mask that she was generally being received one of two ways—she’d just oversold the balance.
Heat flashed through her for not the first time in the past hour, and again she regretted her ironclad rule of not more than one drink on the job.
She’d tried to escape from the wolf-masked alpha who seemed so intent on chatting her up. He was sexy as sin in his black suit, with the coat unbuttoned and a dark forest green button-down shirt stretching across his chest beneath that. His attire actually complimented her own dress frighteningly well. He wore no tie, and the top button was, of course, undone. His cufflinks gleamed gold and might even have been styled something other than perfectly polished and circular, but she hadn’t gotten a close enough look. With the dark scruff dusting his visibly strong jaw, the mask choice almost blended in in a very strange way.
Her escape had been short-lived. He’d reappeared at her side after barely ten minutes apart, sliding back into conversation as easily as he slid back into her space. He wasn’t making any effort to haul her off somewhere, or even being overly touchy, he was there . Practically hovering.
Brinley wasn’t sure if she minded more that his presence clearly made some of the others somehow less inclined to include her in their gossip, or that there was a part of her very much enjoying his nearness. Both were problematic.
She was a freaking omega. She could not be socializing with an alpha.
That was the real issue, and there was no way she could vocalize it.
Brinley had meandered back to the hors d’oeuvres table, pretending to mull over the ridiculous selection. She held her head with a slight tilt so the camera in her earring could grab at least a few quick shots of the poorly disguised senator practically drooling over a statuesque-looking woman with a tight grip on her mask. How the woman could hold still and let herself be salivated over that way was beyond Brinley’s understanding.
“Do you have a preference?” the unfairly sexy man in the wolf mask asked, his voice a low rumble over her opposite shoulder. “Allergies?”
Right. Food. Brinley pursed her lips. “I feel like cheese. Something savory with a touch of sweet.”
The words were barely past her lips before he lifted a napkin and proceeded to pull together several sets of cheese and crackers. He selected multiple types of cheeses, carefully avoiding the moldy blue-cheese crumble, and finally handed over the napkin. “Try some of these,” he said.
Brinley stared at him for a beat before smiling. “You really didn’t have to do that.” She accepted the napkin anyway, telling herself it was to avoid an argument or a scene. She told herself she ought to be irritated. But all she really felt was flattered, something inside fluttering stupidly. She lifted one of the cracker sandwiches at random and took a delicate bite.
The cracker flavor added the perfect touch of buttery saltiness to the sharp, savory rush of soft cheese that cascaded over her tastebuds. A subtle hint of sweetness followed, like an aftertaste, easing the initial tang before it became too much. She gobbled down the second half of the cracker as demurely as she could.
“Well?”
“Delightful,” she told him honestly. Dammit. “Thank you.”
His lips lifted in a smile that made her body tingle. She really hoped her suppressants hadn’t chosen this night to malfunction for the first time. It wasn’t like they were a magic cure-all for the basic nature of an omega. They didn’t make her a fully human non-shifter. The medicine merely decreased the intensity and frequency of her omega-specific biology, but the hormones were still active on a lower level. It wasn’t impossible for them to respond to a strong enough stimulus, especially if she ever slacked in getting her dosage adjusted.
She was munching on another flavor of cheese-cracker sandwich in an attempt to distract herself when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She saw her self-appointed escort’s distinctly hazel eyes snap to something beyond her, the brown shade that encircled his pupils seeming to expand and encroach on the outer layer of green. She’d definitely spent too much time appreciating those eyes while they’d been talking.
“Excuse me,” a male voice said from behind her.
She felt movement over her back where there shouldn’t have been any and stiffened. It was all she could do to angle her head sideways in the speaker’s direction.
“Take a step back,” the alpha in front of her demanded.
The newcomer she couldn’t quite see spoke without a hint of concern. “I’m just playing nice. No need to growl.” That movement swept over her back again, rising up toward her shoulders. This time she felt the distinct press of a brief, foreign touch. “Won’t you join me for a dance, beautiful?”
Instinct railed at her to pull away from the sensation over her back, but Brinley didn’t know where to go. The table was directly on her other side and her mysterious alpha escort was in front of her. She felt pinned. Trapped.
“If she wanted to be dancing, she would be on the dance floor.” There was a hardness in the wolf-masked alpha’s voice she hadn’t heard when he spoke to her.
The other man made a sound of amusement. “Or perhaps the lady is waiting to be asked.” The chilling brush of his fingers dipped down her spine.
Brinley nearly crumbled her makeshift plate of snacks as she drew up the inner strength she needed. This was no place for her to give in to any instinctive panic. Finally, she pivoted almost too quickly on her heel and managed to put her back to the table at the same time as she swatted her clutch in the newcomer’s direction. “Keep your hands to yourself, sir,” she said sharply.
The unfamiliar man frowned, as though he were pouting, beneath the mostly full mask obscuring his face. It was matte gold and covered him from jaw to forehead, but there were openings for his eyes, his entire mouth and chin, and the underside of his nose. Fully functional, as it were. He’d paired it with an off-white, long-tailed coat over matching slacks. Black loafers and a black shirt beneath completed, and confused, the look. Brinley had spotted him mingling and dancing earlier in the evening. He was hard to miss in the darkened room. “Come on, now,” he said, gesturing as if he were confused.
Her alpha took a step forward, angling himself half between them. “I believe you have your answer.”
Brinley cringed at herself and sucked in another breath. My alpha? She probably needed to wrap up her night. A woman could only explain meandering through a crowd of wealthy strangers for so long. She had to have collected enough pictures, at least. Though she wasn’t yet sure what angle she’d spin the story that would accompany them. Aloud, she said, “It’s impolite to touch a lady without her consent, you know. And I’m afraid I’m not interested in stepping onto the dance floor right now.”
The golden masked man slid his dark stare back to her and something in his smile changed, becoming darker. “Lady?” He scoffed. “You plastered on all those obnoxious sparkling bits to disguise the fact that you don’t really belong here and we both know it. You’re just one of this year’s charity cases, floundering out of her depth and hoping for a thirsty cock to sink your greedy hooks into.”
Indignation rushed through her. She saw the alpha that was absolutely not hers tense, visibly bristling, but she couldn’t wait for him to handle this on her behalf. Even if that would have been the more ladylike play. Instead, she raised her chin in a futile attempt to look down at the taller man. “Says the creep who started trying to feel me up before he even said hello.” She paused just for a heartbeat, just to land her point, before adding the most uncouth and improper thing she could think of in her angered haze. “Take your tiny dick syndrome and fuck off.”
The man’s eyes widened. “How dare—”
The alpha between them stepped forward, almost fully obscuring Brinley’s view as he pushed into the other male’s space. He was several inches taller, several inches broader, and with their added visual discrepancy of black suit versus white suit, the entire display screamed of a power disparity.
Brinley wondered if the whole room was watching, or if that was just how intensely captivated she felt.
“Walk away. Now. Or I get both of us removed from the premises,” her alpha said in a low, dangerous growl that sent very different shivers down her spine.
She couldn’t see the other man’s response. She’d begun to suspect the other one had no dynamic, that he was an ordinary human, so he wouldn’t be as aware of any innate power difference. He certainly didn’t have the sense to recognize when he himself was out of line.
But he seemed to at least know a threat when he heard one, because after a lingering moment, he moved back. “Never mind,” he said in their direction. “I sincerely hope to never see either of you again.” He pivoted and stalked away, his stride stiff and angry.
Brinley let out a breath of relief.
Her alpha guardian turned to face her. “Do you want me to report him to security?”
She blinked. They do that? “That’s— No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine.” And at the risk of crossing too many lines, she eased a tiny bit closer and offered a smile. “Thank you for standing up for me.”
He reached up without a word, hazel eyes staring into her soul, and curled two fingers along the outside of her jaw. Before she could react, let alone question the movement, he’d stretched up his thumb and pressed it deliberately across her lower lip.
It was a single stroke, a brief touch, before he pulled his hand away, but it lit her on fire. Brinley let out a soft gasp even as his hand retreated. She watched with wide eyes and confused, twisting insides as he brought that thumb to his lips and licked.
A crumb. A crumb from the crackers she’d eaten minutes ago had remained on her lips. That should have been embarrassing, but … she felt something else altogether. A strange, desperate yearning that burned inside and made it hard to keep her breathing steady.
“It was my pleasure,” he finally said in a deep, rumbly timbre.
Brinley swallowed hard. Please tell me I charged my vibrator. She was definitely going to need it later.
It was proving to be the best, and simultaneously worst, masquerade Lennox had ever attended. He’d never felt so completely obsessed over a woman. The less civilized part of him wanted to rip the head off every man who looked her way. Violence was forbidden at these events, with a strictly enforced zero-tolerance policy. The minute someone so much as slapped another, both parties were removed. He’d seen it happen in the past. In a room with multiple alphas—some who could still shift and some, like him, who could not—it was a difficult policy to uphold.
He’d never come so close to crossing the line as he had with that human in the dull gold mask.
The look of desire that had flashed through his companion’s eyes in their exchange after had been entirely worth the restraint. Despite that it had also required that much more.
His glamorous little obsession was an interesting woman. She was no good at standing still, wanting to see what was going on around her and engage with her environment. She actually made conversation when she had the chance, not resulting to senseless giggling and comments about the weather. The way she’d handled the incident with Gold Mask told him that she wasn’t some wilting wallflower, either. She had a backbone, an inner fire.
Every fucking thing he’d seen of her was stunning.
After however long it had been now since he’d first spotted her across the room, he was near out of his mind with desperation to see more. It had grown late enough that some of the guests had slipped away, many others had devolved into intoxicated mindlessness, and one pair had disappeared not-so-discreetly onto the main veranda. A notion Lennox would normally have rolled his eyes at.
The woman currently in front of them—a fifty-something divorcee—finally declared she had reached her limit for the night. While the females exchanged farewells, Lennox let his gaze stray. The dance floor had thinned with the hour, though a few bodies still defined the space. The live band continued to play.
On impulse, he reached up and let his fingers rest for the second time on the back of his fascination’s nearest arm. This time to catch her attention.
Her brown eyes lifted to him immediately, still clear and focused. He had no doubt she was just as beautiful beneath that feathery mask and sparkling face paint. “What is it?” she asked in her quieted, sweet voice.
Lennox offered her a smile for reassurance. “I know you haven’t been interested up to now,” he said, “but could I persuade you to grace me with a dance before the night ends?”
Her eyes widened slightly before her gaze shifted toward the center of the room.
He waited silently. Her hesitation was as obvious as it had been expected.
She drew a breath and met his stare again. “I’m not much of a formal dancer,” she said, whispering the words as though it were an embarrassing admission. “Between that and these heels….”
Lennox let his smile widen. “What rule says you have to wear the heels?”
“I couldn’t possibly go out there barefoot!”
His thumb stroked over the exposed skin of her arm without thought. She was soft and warm to the touch. “Why not?”
“It’s—” She cut herself off, rolled her luscious lips between her teeth, and said, “Besides, I have my clutch. I need a hand for that.”
He rumbled briefly. “So, you would grant me a dance if you had some place to set those things with peace of mind? Somewhere it didn’t feel wrong to move without shoes?”
Her mouth opened, the faintest of sounds squeaked from her, and finally she said, “I suppose. If you didn’t still mind being stepped on. But this opulent ballroom doesn’t have any of that.”
It most certainly did not. Lennox let his fingers graze down her arm, keeping his touch light and non-restrictive, until he had hold of her hand. He lifted her hand up so that her fingers draped outward, bent down, and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “My suite has plenty of space. We could go there, and pick our own music.”
He was pretty sure he saw her pulse leap as her lips parted again on a sweet, torturous gasp.
“Your suite? You can’t be serious. We’ve only just met.”
He kept his words low and steady, kept his hold of her loose. “You would be free to leave whenever you wanted. I have no intentions to harm you.” But he wasn’t so ignorant that he didn’t understand why she—or any woman—would hesitate to believe such a claim. They’d shared each other’s company only for a few hours and hadn’t yet exchanged names, or seen each other’s faces. He was almost certainly pushing too hard.
“And what if I’m the threat here?” She pulled her hand away and planted it on her hip as if emphasizing her curves made any point beyond reminding him of her beauty. “Women can scheme and be dangerous, too.”
Lennox chuckled. “A risk I’m willing to take, then. I don’t think I’ve done anything tonight to earn your ire, and you would have had to do some impressively meticulous planning to know what I might be wearing tonight.”
She scrunched up her lips in a way that told him she wasn’t too impressed by his response.
He held out a hand in offer, to let her make a choice. “Or we could dance here, and make do.” He wanted both her hands on him. He wanted her alone, in a space that was at least temporarily his. He wanted her the fuck away from the damnable diffusors so he could catch her scent and take at least one good lungful. But he wasn’t going to force her.
The corner of her lower lip disappeared for several seconds as she chewed on it. “And if I said no?” Her question was cautious, both in wording and tone.
Lennox softened his expression. He was torn between applauding her caution and being aggravated by it, but he vocalized neither thought. That was his dilemma to handle. “Then the answer is no, and I’ll drop it.”
She studied him for another beat, clearly deciding whether or not to believe him. Then she blew out a sigh and placed her hand in his still-waiting palm. “Just so you know, I’m not too proud to scream my head off if this is some kind of trick. And I’m feisty. There’s no way the walls in the hotel are that well soundproofed.”
He grinned at her bravado and pulled her closer, keeping her hand in his as he bent forward and lowered his voice. “Is that a yes ?”
She dipped her chin in what looked like a nod, stiffened with a sharp breath, and drew back enough to stare him properly in the eyes again. “I know this is an anonymous event,” she said, “but going back to a private room is different, and I need to know one thing. If you can’t answer, then no, my answer is no.”
Lennox tilted his head marginally. She couldn’t see his reflexively arched brow, so he asked, “What’s your question?”
“Are you single?”
He was kind of proud of her for slamming the brakes as soon as she’d thought past her own immediate circumstance. The question was valid and smart. “Yes.” His lips kicked up before he could stop them. “Unless you’re offering?”
Her silver-painted nostrils flared and he was almost positive her cheeks were flushed under her dual-layered disguise. Fuck, but he wanted to see that.
She ducked her gaze. “Shouldn’t you be asking me now?”
Lennox gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t strike me as the straying type,” he said honestly. “You would have ditched me some time ago.” Her reservations about dancing with strangers, her instincts on which men to actively avoid, and her hesitation on accepting his own offer were all proof enough that this wasn’t the kind of woman who slept around. Or maybe he was lying to himself.
She looked up at him again. “I can’t decide if you’re really good at reading people, or if you have some kind of gambling problem.” Her lips were lifted this time in a faintly teasing manner and he could tell she’d relaxed again.
He matched her expression. “That’s not the sort of thing you can learn about a person in a single evening,” he replied. He released her hand in order to properly offer her his arm, a move which adjusted his body to face the direction of the exit by necessity. “Shall we?”
Her shoulders rose with one more quiet breath, as if she were steadying herself, and she looped her arm through his. “Okay. One dance.”