Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
“ Y ou've been keeping secrets, mortal,” Cora said in my ear. “I don't like secrets or surprises, they turn my luck. I'll return the favor.”
I cringed.
Maybe I could wheedle Constin into baking her some cupcakes.
The Cassanians didn't applaud, that wasn't their way. But when I stopped paying attention to Coralene and glanced out across the audience?—
“Yes,” she said. “You're very, very lucky you have protection or tonight would be a feeding frenzy. I haven’t quite decided what you are, but you’re something. . .the High Fae tend to tear disputed toys apart by the limbs.”
She walked away, not looking back.
“Would you dance with me, Hasannah?” a familiar voice said behind me.
I turned, and the Rose Lord bowed. His hair was set in waves tonight, still the blush pink with dove gray strands. He wore dusky lavender and black, setting off his coloring.
“I—”
“Oh, do not refuse me. That would make me sad.”
I displayed my teeth. “Of course not.” Mistress Vargas would be watching.
The music began again and we danced, the Lord's hands in the correct position though he pulled me a little too close.
“That was an exquisite showing,” he said. “But you still held back.”
“I don't want to risk an injury before the showcase.”
“Others will wish to speak and dance with you as well. I don't think we've had a mortal with your spark in a hundred years. Not since. . .curious that your Lord abandoned you. He should take better care.”
“I don't have a Lord,” I said. “If you mean my date for the evening, he hasn't abandoned me.”
The Rose Lord smiled, though the expression didn't change the shape of his eyes. It did change their expression, and not for the better. If I’d never believed in ghosts before, now I did. I almost recoiled.
“That's two lies he's allowed you to believe are truth. Or perhaps it is truth? Humans have a saying—some kind of adage, about soap and slippery fingers?”
I was too well-trained to stiffen in his arms, but I didn't like the meaning of his words. Especially when the mists in his eyes contained horrors I’d only experienced at the edges of sleep.
“The complication that always comes with claiming a mortal of some interest to others,” he continued in his low, friendly voice, “is that you can only keep what you claim if you're strong enough to prevent it from trickling from your grasp. Were you mine, little dancer, I wouldn’t allow you to leave my side. I would never make that mistake again. Not in this company. Look around you.”
I broke eye contact to take his suggestion, giving the room a quick glance, and noted too many eyes staring or giving us a casual glance before turning away.
Too much attention.
“I have seen you before and I know what you are,” the Rose Lord said, “but your. . .date. . .is simpleminded.”
He halted and lowered his head to my neck, inhaling, and I gasped in outrage, trying to pull away because I associated that kind of thing now with Andrei and intimacy.
His grip tightened, and I wouldn't be able to break it without causing a scene. I ground my teeth.
“I almost didn't recognize his scent on your skin. Almost.” He breathed another word, a name.
“Dartanyon.”
The Rose Lord straightened, looking over my shoulder, then took a slow step back, lifting his hands.
Andrei stepped to my side, wrapping fingers around my upper arm. The tension in that touch conveyed a clear command not to speak.
I closed my eyes. Wonderful. Rehearsals tomorrow were going to be wonderful. Coralene would be brimming with commentary. She always was.
“So, it's you who's claimed the girl,” Dartanyon said. “Silly of me not to recognize your taint earlier. But then you always have had a light touch.”
I didn't have to be male or Fae to recognize the insult nestled in bland words.
“My touch is light because nothing more is required. When one begs for a heavier hand, I give it.” Andrei softened his tone. “This one is not for you, Dartanyon. Choose another.”
“It's not so simple, High Lord. You don't recognize the water flowing through your fingers, disappearing into the cracks of parched ground.”
Dartanyon glanced at me, and smiled. “My offer is still on the table, little dancer. And now you know my name.”
I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. A response from me wasn't necessary because the next moment Andrei's free hand darted out and grabbed Dartanyon around the throat.
He stepped closer to the Rose Lord. They were the same height, though Dartanyon was leaner. Unmoved by the show of violence.
“You offer for her in front of my face?” Andrei said, voice deepening into a cold scrape of a reaper’s scythe on ice. “Are you challenging me?”
The room was silent now except for the occasional cough or shift of feet—probably from a human.
Dartanyon lifted his hands again. “This isn't the venue for a challenge and that would be premature, in any case. Has she danced for you, High Lord? She has danced for me.”
I inhaled sharply, because the once subtle insinuation was now overt, Dartanyon's eyes mocking. Only this time the insinuation implied cooperation. Cora didn’t need to tell me that cheating on a High Lord was a graveworthy idea.
Dartanyon smiled. “I see she hasn't. You haven't watched that supple body writhe, the pleasure suffuse her face, heard the cadence of her breaths as she brings herself to completion?—”
Andrei lifted Dartanyon and threw him.
The Rose Lord landed lightly on his feet, his lips pulled back in a snarl. Andrei took a single, stalking step forward as Mathen appeared at my side, his hands on my arms as he tugged me back.
“No!”
Andrei ignored me, but I shook Mathen off and grabbed the High Lord’s wrist. He stopped.
“No, Andrei. Not now, and not here. That's not what tonight is for.”
Someone else's sharp inhale caught my attention and I glanced in that direction, meeting Coralene's warning gaze. Understanding her tight-lipped expression.
I shut my mouth.
But tonight wasn't just about me, and I didn't want it ruined for the others. I didn't want to be spoken of as the woman who’d slept her way to the prima spot.
I slid around until I was facing Andrei chest to chest, my hands resting on his shoulders, and looked up into his face. The rage I saw there should have frightened me into silence, but his hands, sliding around my waist, were gentle.
“Please, my Lord.” I spoke softly, my awareness of our audience, and the who of the man in front of me, heightened. What would Cora say? Probably that making a public demand would almost necessitate he refuse. But he could be seen as indulgent of his mortal pet. “I beg this favor.”
Andrei lowered his head without looking at me and kissed my cheek. “Very well, consort. I will grant you this, for now.”
“Thank you. Can we—can you take me somewhere quiet for a moment? I’m a little. . .”
I trailed off, not having public appropriate words to describe rubbery knees caused by the almost brush with violence, and the upset of Dartanyon's words.
Andrei's arms slid around me, and he whisked me off the dance floor.
I didn't pay much attention to where he led us but in minutes we were in a darkened room. He pulled aside curtains to let in moonlight, then returned to me.
I laid my head against his chest. “I'm sorry.”
“What for?”
He sounded reasonable enough.
I looked up, though my eyes hadn't adjusted yet. “You know I would never—you know I never.” I stopped. “What he said sounded bad, but?—”
“Hasannah.” Anger warmed his voice. “It never once crossed my mind that his taunts were based in anything but the particular blend of truth and deceit my people are capable of.”
I let out a breath. “I was in my solo practice room—the day after we met, and I didn't notice he was there until the end. He approached me, but I didn't think I'd see him again.”
“You should have mentioned it to me.” The thread of anger heated. “Whenever you're approached by another, no matter how outwardly innocent, you tell me.” His hand grasped my chin. “Do you understand?”
I nodded, not liking the grip of his fingers on my chin.
Andrei’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not being cruel. You don’t know Lord Dartanyon. He is not sane.”
That was funny. “Can any of you make that claim?”
He flashed sharp, shiny teeth. “Do any of us keep woman sized bird cages on our estates and force our ballerinas to dance until their toes are raw? Tell me, Hasannah, have you ever been claimed by a fairy circle?”
Jesus.
His fingers dug into my jaw, an extension of the irritation glittering in his eyes. “No, you haven’t. And unless that’s the fate you secretly yearn for, I’d suggest you heed my warning. Stay away from Dartanyon. Stay away from any Lord you might encounter.”
He made it sound so simple. “And how am I supposed to know a High Fae from a High Fae Lord from a Low Fae Lord from a frog? You don’t come with flashing signs or name badges!”
“You’ll learn.” He released me slowly, mouth turned down. “Now I'll have to handle him in haste because he publicly questioned my ownership over you.”
I stiffened. “Your ownership.”
“That’s right. You're mortal, and you're mine.”
“Like your pet? Like—like your coach? Something you keep well-maintained and shut away in your garage until you’re ready to ride it? I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
His hands wrapped around my upper arms, his lip curling up with a look I knew very well. He wanted to strangle me, or hit me, or lash out in whatever way he thought he could get away with.
“Are you challenging me, Hasannah?”
Which boyfriend had been the hit and pinch with no warning guy? . . .Randall. Just twice, but twice had been enough. I may have stolen his comic book collection and run it through the shredder the day I left.
And mailed him the scraps three months later as a Christmas gift, no return address.
I breathed for a few moments while I struggled with the decision not to escalate this to an actual fight. He was still upset, and men were men whether human or Fae. He was lashing out at the easy target, which happened to be the mortal woman.
“I’m not challenging you,” I said. Was he like all the others? Were his pretty gloves about to peel off? “Whatever that means. I’m saying that I’m not a toy or a pet.”
“I don’t believe we understand the word challenge in the same way, my Anah.”
I. . .didn’t like the shift in his tone. How he could sound seductive and dangerous at the same time. And make me like it, even though I knew better.
“Maybe we should return to the party,” I said, pushing at his chest. “Andrei, let me go.”
He pulled me flush against his body, his hardness. His arms tightened, and there was a feeling in how he held me, a taste shivering along our mental bond that I suddenly understood. Fear, the frustrated kind of anger aimed at a loved one placing themselves in danger, with you helpless to stop it.
I sighed, leaning against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue. I hate arguing. It’s just been a long week. I’m tired, and my feet hurt, and I think I’m actually hangry.”
A fairy circle. A cage. I shuddered. Andrei wasn’t reprimanding me for no reason. He wasn’t DeAndre, who’d wanted me to text him my daily schedule so he knew where I was going and with whom—for no logical reason other than his own narcissistic need to control.
The moment I softened, Andrei relaxed, his hands and voice gentling.
“Another Lord approached you and you didn’t come to me. My lack of response emboldened him. Either he believes you’ve rejected my claim and will therefore welcome another, or I’m too weak to enforce it.”
I looked up. “I’m sorry. I understand now. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Andrei caressed my bottom lip, the look in his eyes smoldering. “There’s a partial remedy. My scent on your skin. It's faint. Too faint for one I've said is mine.”
“I don’t understand.” Liar.
He tilted his head, voice dropping several notes. “My scent should be so embedded in your skin that there's no doubt to whom you belong. My name should be branded across your body to warn of the death that awaits those who touch and tease and toy with my bonded.”
The tension in the air uncoiled, rearing up like a snake preparing to strike. The intent in his eyes unfolded, and if I didn’t deescalate fast, I’d find myself on my back with my legs around his shoulders.
“I think we should take a time out. Maybe a glass of water or a walk outside for some fresh air.”
“Don’t patronize me, little mortal. Air is not what will soothe me.”
I swallowed. “I’m not trying to patronize you, Andrei. I’m trying to help you calm down so you don’t do something I’ll regret.”
“And what,” he asked in his sweet drawl, “is it that you’ll regret?”
My heart, beating fast, tumbled end over end as the hair on my skin rose.
“I don’t need you to go back in there and pick a fight. I also don’t want you to take your bad mood out on me.”
“And if I want to take my mood out on you?” The sweetness chilled, then cracked. A warning not to toy with him, and warning he planned on toying with me . “How will you stop me, Hasannah?”
“I can’t. If that’s who you want to be, I can’t stop you. Be a monster. See what it gets you. It certainly won’t get you me, except by force.”
His hand cupped my cheek, the expression in his eyes bemused, like a lion eyeing dinner that had the temerity to protest being eaten. “You dare. I offer you everything, and you dare threaten me . ”
I tensed my legs against the instinct to run. The next moment my back was against a wall, his body pressing against mine.
His breath bathed my ear. “Tell me why I shouldn't take what's mine.” His hand lashed out, cupping me between the thighs, squeezing, blatant ownership in the clench of his fingers. “Why I shouldn't spill my seed in and over you so there's never again any doubt what male has claimed you?”
“Andrei, please.” Before him, I’d never know a man who could infuse so much threat into a quiet, soothing voice. So much want. I wasn’t ready for what that voice promised to do to me.
“I am your Lord .”
Teeth fastened onto the side of my neck.