Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Violet
I run past the maze and rose garden, through the small smattering of trees, and then slow, walking by the clipped entrance to an old maze, one that’s tall and thick.
Trying to shut off my mounting thoughts, I focus on making the moon and stars my only guide. The glow behind me of the house is in the near distance. The noise and the music is mostly now only background noise, and the fresh air loosens the tightness of my chest and lets me breathe.
Somewhere a frog croaks and crickets sing.
It’s getting cooler now.
The grass is soft and springy under my feet, slightly damp. My shoes are… I don’t even remember where they landed when I kicked them off .
I stop and carefully remove the mask, then continue, turning a corner as I find a little-used path.
Something shimmers like dancing silver, and I realize I’ve reached a small lake. I focus on calm to quiet down the little rivulets of panic that come at me in waves. There’s a gazebo so I go to it, climbing the short steps. The path might not be used much, but this structure is kept painted and clean, and there’s even a lamp on the table in the middle as if it was meant to be used by guests.
I perch on one of the built-in benches and carefully set the mask down to close my eyes a moment.
The lap of the water soothes. And the songs of the night are magic.
I could stay here forever.
I can’t, though. I’m going to have to go back in eventually.
It’s just…those girls. The stares. The pressure.
My thoughts waver as my senses spark.
The scent of oak drifts on the lightest of night breezes, making me start to buzz.
My breath catches fast in my throat, but this time it isn’t panic. It’s everything but.
Jumping to my feet, I turn—and there he is. The man from the boathouse, Mr. Ashford, looking too good in that wolf mask and scruff. The suit’s made for him. It’s way more stylish than anyone else’s and black in this light. But it isn’t pure black. I remember seeing the blue and almost purple threads that run through the material when he stood with me, holding my hand, using his Alpha voice on me so softly that the command still reverberates in me somewhere .
“I’m sorry.” I reach for my mask. “I’ll go?—”
“You still owe me a dance, Violet.”
My name on his lips shocks me, and I don’t move as he approaches.
He walks with intent, and he commands my attention, all without saying anything else.
I know if we were in a crowded room, he’d draw all the eyes. He probably did earlier, but I was too on the verge of a full-blown meltdown to notice.
In the dark, the only light is the silver moon reflected on the water and the stars above, and it somehow feels more powerful than if we were somewhere brightly lit. I want to breathe in his oak and rich earthy scent, the sweeter undertones, see what he is beneath that expensive blocker.
He’s so familiar. Beyond meeting him at the boathouse. Maybe I’ve seen him in town and just don’t remember.
But a man like him a girl can’t easily forget. So where is this hint of recognition coming from?
I rise slowly as he stops in front of me.
He smiles, that million-dollar smile, but it’s what’s beneath the surface that interests me. It whispers sensual thoughts in my head, like what it would be like if he did more than hold my hand.
If he traced a path along my spine, my throat, over my lips…
Now my chest tightens for an entirely different reason as every pulse point throbs out a rapid beat.
“You know my name?” It comes out breathless, and I cringe, stepping back, bumping into the bench.
Of course he knows my name. I’m the supposed Luxe after all, the object of much derision from the other girls, so he must have heard someone?—
Maybe those catty girls at the ball?—
“Your brother,” he answers.
For a moment excitement fills me. This is solid ground, something that could connect us. If Heath approves… If Heath sent him my way… “You know Heath?”
“Just like a princess,” he mutters. “Pretending not to know.”
I frown. There are lots of rich, pampered girls here, girls who could fit that label. But me? “I’m not spoiled.”
He comes closer, takes my mask and runs a finger along its cheeks. “Not that kind of princess. You’re the untouched type, the high tower sort. You’re…the good princess who would never allow butter to melt near her mouth.” He pauses. Turning the mask over to trace the underside, where it sat against my face, and I shiver. “But if you really don’t know, I went to college with Heath.”
“He never brought his college friends home. I think we went to visit him once. Maybe you were there?” I’m babbling. “What’s your name? So that it’s fair.”
He studies me for a long moment, head tilted to the side like he can’t believe I don’t know him. But I don’t. Should I?
“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” he asks.
“How can I when you haven’t told me?”
“Hmm.”
I swallow. “Somone said Ashford?”
His mouth turns up. “Feeling coy?”
“No, I…”
“Have you looked at your mini tablet lately? ”
I pause. “No. Why?”
Slowly, he takes off his mask.
Like before at the boathouse, the vague familiarity is there, but I don’t know anyone with a scruffy beard, especially here on Sabine. No one would dare sport one when taking part in the Season.
He raises a brow, and his dark eyes, a dark gold-brown in the lamp light, almost twinkle.
Oh god, he’s good-looking. It takes my breath away.
He frowns. “Stop pretending. You recognize me. Your sisters did.”
“Dahlia, too?”
“Who?”
“My sister, Dahlia. She’s too focused on her studies to be interested in gossip or anything to do with the Season. So if she knew you...”
“Forget her.”
“She’s my sister.” I want to laugh; delight bubbles in me. The more frustrated he acts, the more relaxed I get. “I couldn’t do that if I tried.”
“Wow, you’re incorruptible. I can see now why the Monarch picked you. But I still…”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means,” he says, sighing heavily as he sets our masks down, “I think you’re more of a princess than a Luxe. Innocent and unscarred.”
This time I laugh. I can’t help it.
“But if you truly don’t know,” he continues, “I’m a movie star. An actor. Played in movies like Knot a Chance and Summer Heat. ”
“Are those porn films? ”
He steps back, eyes wide in shock, and I instantly regret my words.
Stupid, Vi. Stupid! Just insult the man. Perfect way to get a mate.
Then, to my complete surprise, he laughs, shoulders bouncing and all.
My cheeks burn.
“You know, now that I think about it, they could sound like those kinds of movies. But no. They’re not. Just regular run-of-the-mill romantic comedies. Name’s Asher St. James.”
“So not Ashford?” I ask.
“Ashford is my real name. Stephan Ashford. Asher is my stage name,” he says.
He’s the famous Alpha everyone’s been talking about.
God, I’m an idiot. How do I save this conversation?
“I’m sorry. I-I haven’t really had time to go to the movies in a while.”
“Not on Stitch at all, either?”
“No…”
“See what I mean?” He smiles. “Princess.”
I move away and sit, but he comes and sits next to me, our thighs touching. It’s warm, nice, unsettling in a way I could crave.
“I’m not into Stitching,” I say, “unless it’s with a needle and thread.”
“You’re only making my case for me here.”
Damn, I guess I am. “So, you’re Heath’s friend? Nice to know he’s got one.”
He laughs. “I have stories.”
“Does he have stories about you? ”
“Your brother’s turned into a gentleman. He’d never share.”
The tease in his voice is like being fed something delicious.
“And you?” I ask. “Are you an actor and a gentleman?”
“Your eyes are a pretty hazel, green, brown, and is that gold? I bet they’re spectacular in the light.” My heart squeezes and my stomach flips. He comes closer, his mouth so close. “And to answer your question, I’m definitely not a gentleman.”
For the first time in my life, I might faint, and it’s not from a panic attack. I’m not wracked with anxiety. I’m…excited, and?—
“You still owe me a dance, Violet.”
“I-I don’t dance.”
“The princess lies?” He fakes surprise. “I know you do. Don’t forget I saw you all sweaty after you raced down an alley from a dance studio. I’ve seen you in your workout clothes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say but smile. “I’ve never met you before tonight.”
“Fall from your princess perch already?” Amusement dances in his eyes. “I get it. It wouldn’t have been proper for us to be together like that, alone. At night. Kind of like we are now.”
Panic suddenly grips me.
He’s absolutely right. We are alone, in the dark. An Omega and Alpha participating in the Season without a chaperone. People will talk. My chances at finding a mate could be ruined.
What was I thinking !
I jump to my feet, glancing around wildly for any passersby. My stomach somersaults. I have to leave. I have to go, right now, before someone sees us.
“Wait.” His hand snatches mine to stop me. His touch burns in, imprinting itself on me. “I didn’t say that to scare you.”
“It’s true, though. We shouldn’t be here. Together like this.”
Even though my heart is pounding, his grip on me is soft, no pressure, the kind of thing I can fall into. It grounds me in place.
“I don’t want you to go,” he says, voice lowering. “Not yet.”
I know he’s just being nice, but still… The slight plead to his words makes tingles race along my spine.
“Can I at least have that dance, Princess?” He pulls out a mini pad.
The light hits his face, and I peek at him. So handsome, I could swoon. And his eyes are a rich brown.
My purse shakes and pings. I pull out my own tablet, and there’s his name on my dance roster.
Stephan Ashford.
I glance at him again. “Really?”
“Really.”
His handwriting, even digitized, is strong.
“I can change it to my stage name, if you like.”
“I don’t think anyone else sees the mini pads.” I bite my lip. “You don’t have to be kind to me because of Heath.”
“Actually, I prefer to give Heath a hard time over anything else.” He catches my chin again and brings me to him. My breath is shallow, uneven, and my pulse pounds hard. “If he knew I was here right now, talking to you, he’d kill me.”
“What? Why?”
“He already warned me to stay away from you.”
He did?
Stephan brings me right in, and I know he’s going to kiss me. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t have to know.”
His lips touch mine.
Everything in me explodes like fireworks. I’m pure cascading color and light. His lips are warm and soft, but he doesn’t lift them from mine. He shifts, applies a little pressure, and then his tongue is in my mouth.
Everything implodes to that. He’s sweetness and something sharp, a slight dizzying burn I want more of. There’re all kinds of whispered promises that don’t quite form, and I chase them like fireflies. I’m flying and…and it’s over.
A barely-there kiss but momentous. For me, it’s transformative, and I want more but he’s already up, away from me. I try to speak, but I can’t. I’m changed. I’m staring. I’m still looking at him as he holds out his hand. “Dance with me, Princess?”
I should say no. I should just go into the ballroom alone and forget this.
But I find myself putting my hand in his, and I nod.