Chapter 29 #2
He ventured farther, because seeing Mr. Arcos like this was as intoxicating as standing at the edge of an abyss. “Or would you rather see Duchess Elodie kneel before you?”
The air changed. Tension crackled through it so palpably that the hairs on Will’s arms rose. Mr. Arcos’s gaze turned murderous.
“Do not ever speak of her that way again.” His words were quiet.
Will raised his hands in surrender, though his satisfied smile remained.
“You are too late.” His gaze slid toward the dance floor, where Elodie and her duke spun in circles.
Will still disliked how much older the man was and how possessively he held her, as though she already belonged to him.
Everything inside Will demanded that he go down there and persuade Elodie to make several more mistakes, just to show the man that she was not a prize he could purchase.
But it had been her decision, and whatever Duke Wilkinson believed, he was only another instrument in her orchestra. No better or worse than Will.
Bile rose into his mouth, fed by jealousy, anger, and betrayal—all feelings to which he had no right.
“Come,” he said when he noticed Mr. Arcos staring at the dance floor with equal pain.
“Where?”
“To dance.” Will took a first step toward the staircase branching from the corridor nearby.
Mr. Arcos stared at him in confusion. “Why?”
“Because I am tired of Elodie always getting what she wants.”
Arcos laughed, still skeptical, but followed him.
The moment they reached the edge of the dance floor, a new, rapid waltz began, and Will offered the ambassador his hand.
The first guests noticed them, and Will heard whispers rising behind their grotesque masks.
But his attention belonged entirely to Mr. Arcos and the struggle unfolding behind those steel-colored eyes.
He must have left his helmet on the balcony, because there was nothing left for him to hide behind.
His eyes remained fixed on Will and the hand offered to him.
At last, he accepted it and pulled Will against him with a hard grip.
“I lead,” he said quietly, without waiting for Will’s agreement. His hand spread across Will’s lower back beneath the wings, his claws pressing into bare skin. He took the first step and drove between Will’s legs, forcing Will to follow and yield to his dominance.
Will inhaled sharply as his chest pressed against the cold steel of the armor. His hair whirled around them through the rapid turns Mr. Arcos led them into, never hesitating again, never permitting Will a way out.
Mr. Arcos stared over Will’s shoulder as though his entire existence did not converge upon the three places where they touched. As though there was nothing extraordinary about this dance.
But Will couldn’t ignore it. With one hand raised like another wing, Arcos forced him open, while his other rested upon his back with something almost possessive in its pressure.
And then there were the centers of their bodies, welded together and held by Mr. Arcos’s iron grip, far too intimate for a ballroom.
Gods, Will felt every step the man took, the armored plates of his thighs scraping against the thin silk of Will’s trousers.
His hand on Arcos’s shoulder was his only salvation.
He practically clung to the steel plate and wondered why the gods had favored him so greatly tonight that he had ended up here.
But as always, Will was alone with his feelings. He was exposed and vulnerable, naked beneath Arcos’s cold gaze. What Will experienced as intimate contact was to the ambassador nothing more than pressure against his armor.
His excitement drained away.
As always, he was making a fool of himself.
“Do not forget to breathe,” Mr. Arcos murmured. One corner of his mouth curled, betraying how much he enjoyed his advantage.
“What are they whispering about us?” Will asked, gradually becoming aware that the dance floor was emptying. The other couples were making room and retreating toward their friends.
“It is not customary for two men to display themselves like this in public,” Mr. Arcos admitted.
“Do you fear that reputation? That people might think such things about you?”
In answer, claws dug into his skin. Will drew a sharp breath but did not look away. Instead, he studied the nearly black ring around the other man’s irises, fading into a silver sun that made his eyes unnaturally clear.
“You enjoy the scandal. Is that it?” Mr. Arcos replied.
“No.” Will looked over Arcos’s shoulder toward one of the few couples still whirling across the marble. Elodie’s gaze met his, and the fire in her eyes drew a spiteful smile across his lips.
“Oh.” Mr. Arcos saw her as well. Perhaps he had assumed she had left the floor with the previous dance and had not noticed her until now.
“It is good to know jealousy is one of your weaknesses.” Will grinned. But Mr. Arcos’s expression had closed further, becoming cold. If Will were brave, he would have said the man looked unsettled.
“Regarding your bargain with the devil…” the ambassador began after several more turns. “In return, I want you to discover what she wants from that man.”
Will studied Duke Wilkinson over Arcos’s shoulder: the greying hair, the gaunt figure, the old-fashioned yet elegant clothes.
“Is that not obvious? Money. The security of marriage.”
“Duke Wilkinson is also a candidate for the Red Hand. By marrying her, he removes her from the contest. And Elodie… She has hated that man since our childhood.”
Will suppressed the sharp pain that struck him whenever he remembered that the two of them shared a past—a childhood, a youth, and a family.
Instead, he recalled everything Elodie had told him.
It could not be true that she would rather marry than become the next Red Hand.
“Then it must be another of her games, because she has no intention of surrendering the office.”
“Why can’t she simply withdraw?” Mr. Arcos growled, unable to take his eyes from her.
“Why should she?” The question had burned on Will’s tongue ever since he had first heard of their rivalry.
A cold gaze lowered to Will, and he wondered how Mr. Arcos was able to look down upon him when they were nearly the same height.
“I have served the Red Hand for years. I have seen the sacrifices the office demands, how it takes everything from a person. In the end, there would be nothing left of her.” An old pain entered his eyes.
“There is barely anything left of her now—of the girl I once knew.”
“And yet you love her.”
Mr. Arcos stumbled. It took several steps for him to recover. “Why would you say something so absurd?”
“But I am right, am I not?”
Mr. Arcos remained silent, and Will knew he had gone too far.
“I have changed my mind,” Mr. Arcos said. “I want you to prevent Elodie from marrying Duke Wilkinson.”
“You cannot simply change our bargain!”
The dance ended, and Mr. Arcos released him. “You forget—I am the devil. I can do anything.”