Twenty-Five
The hall we’d dined in the night before had been transformed.
A quartet was stationed in the far corner, playing soft music that murmured through the air like a heated breath.
Wood-carved sofas with burgundy upholstery of varying lengths and sizes had been brought into the room, along with high-backed cushioned chairs that looked more like thrones.
The floor had been covered in thick, plush rugs, and I lost count of the number of pillows effortlessly tossed throughout the space.
There were only a few tables along one wall, and while there was an assortment of foods plated and attendants moved through the crowd with smaller, bite-sized morsels, the primary emphasis was the Douselle Kiss.
It was everywhere. In tiered glasses that were full and ripe for the taking.
In elegant fountains manning the room. On the trays of attendants and in the hands of guests.
Evers floated through the hall. They moved languidly as they exchanged pleasantries or enjoyed the food and drink.
They were all a sight to behold. Leather, lace, gemstones, feathers—no fabric or adornment was off the table.
They were walking masterpieces of beauty and seduction, and they were not afraid to revel in that truth.
If they weren’t eating or conversing, they were dancing.
My gaze snared on a couple twining together in the center of the floor, their bodies illuminated by a dangling chandelier bedecked in pewter crystals.
With each lazy twirl came a slow, sensual caress, and their clothes were sliding from their sweat-slicked frames.
When the female’s bust was completely exposed, I inhaled sharply both at her beauty and at the brazenness of their actions.
And yet . . . I cut a quick glance around the room. They weren’t the only ones.
In fact, they were quite . . . tame in comparison to others.
Sounds I hadn’t noticed at first now joined the sultry climb of music.
Soft gasping moans. Deep-seated growls of pleasure.
Heat flamed my cheeks as I spotted another couple rocking together on a chair.
Her gossamer layers of skirts did nothing to obscure the slide of their bodies, and my heart hammered against my rib cage as she tipped her head back in pure ecstasy.
The low light of the chandelier cast the room in an array of shadows, and in each sliver of darkness, something carnal happened.
Bare backs. Legs. Tangled arms and heaving chests.
My throat dried, and I took an inadvertent step backward. Right into Seville. We’d descended from our quarters only moments ago, and already I’d forgotten she was there.
“Not what you expected?” She smirked. She scoured the room before momentarily pausing on a female Ever lingering near a display of small pastries.
Kara. Her attire was a tantalizing mixture of black leather and studded silver, with just a hint of skin peeking through her tightly laced bodice.
Her storm-gray stare found us, and I saw the hunger light in her eyes once she targeted Seville.
“I assumed Evers, you know . . . coupled, just not here.” I followed her gaze to Kara, and while bile still soured my tongue at the thought of what she did to my home, I couldn’t help but appreciate the way her corset cinched her waist.
“Partners are more than welcome to leave, of course.” Seville lifted a shoulder. “But this is fairly common. Not all fetes are boring, stuffy affairs like the one you attended.”
I raised an incredulous brow. “You considered that boring?” For as long as I lived, I would never forget that night.
How the back lawns had been transformed into a mystical garden with gauzy, cloudlike canopies and glittering lights.
How the tables had overflowed with food and drink, how the Evers had danced and moved with a mirth I’d never seen. And Rorik . . .
A tingling raced through my limbs and my stomach tightened.
He’d been danger incarnate in his suit of black and gold, his Ever features on full display.
And he’d asked me to dance. Held me close as he brought his lips to my ear and whispered sinful words that had been permanently branded into my memory.
The only pain I’d ever intentionally inflict on you is the agony of making you wait to feel the pleasure of release.
I bit my lower lip gently as I tore apart the room without moving. Searching.
“Seems like your mind is already warming to the idea,” Seville said as she pointedly dragged her gaze to my mouth. “We need to put on a show tonight anyway. Remember the goal.”
I could hardly find my voice. “Yeah. Of course.”
“You want some advice, Edira?” She clucked her tongue once before snagging a glass of Douselle Kiss from a passing attendant.
Then, with soft but insistent fingers, she turned me gently toward the front of the room.
“Take whatever you want. Stars know he’s not going to do anything about it. Maybe you should.”
A group of dancers—if you could even call them that—shifted from the center of the dance floor to the wall, leaving a clear line of sight to one of the armchairs along the room’s edge.
Rorik reclined against the tufted fabric with one ankle crossed over his knee, his elbow propped against the armrest as he cupped the side of his face.
In his other hand, a crystal wineglass loosely dangled between his fingers.
He moved it lazily, swirling the remaining contents of his drink as he studied the room.
And then his slow appraisal of the environment brought his gaze to mine, and the whole world seemed to stop.
A flare of recognition shot across his eyes, and my breath hitched.
A trickle of warmth seeped down my neck.
I couldn’t help but think of our kiss. How much my body had craved him in that moment; how I would have done anything to feel him inside me. And how he left me reeling and alone.
Indignation brought heat to my cheeks. “He wants nothing to do with me.”
“That so?” Seville raised her glass to her brother. He narrowed his eyes at her in response, and she chuckled darkly. “Maybe I’m misinterpreting his foul mood when you’re not around. Still, if you want to toy with him, the wine helps.”
With that, she turned on her heel and sauntered toward one of the tables. Kara had disappeared somewhere, and in her place was our attendant. Seville waved her off when she offered a plate of chocolate-dipped fruit and decided instead on a second glass of Douselle Kiss. Perhaps for Zeverin.
Which, of course, left me with nothing better to do than stare at Rorik.
Tension snapped through the air, cutting a clear path through the Evers in the room.
Why did he get to decide how we were supposed to act without even talking to me?
Did he really not want me? Us? Was all of this .
. . this attraction simply a result of our forced heartbond?
Fuck it. If I was about to face down Death—and I already knew my days were numbered—I wasn’t going to waste time sitting on my ass hoping for something to happen. I’d make something happen.
Veering toward the table, I found an oversized glass fountain where wine flowed over multiple tiers in a delectable cascading waterfall.
An attendant stood ready, and the moment I approached, she snared one of the many crystal glasses and filled it for me.
The sweet scent of fresh fruit and florals hit my nose, and I inhaled deeply as I strolled toward Rorik.
He tracked me the whole way, his heady gaze like that of a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. He’d had the perfect opportunity days ago and done nothing. Now it was my turn.
“Not exactly what I was expecting.” I swirled the wine before bringing it to my lips.
He didn’t move except to narrow his eyes. “Don’t drink that.”
“Why not?”
He gestured to the many, many bodies that had become an inseparable tangle of limbs. My lips parted of their own accord, but no one seemed to care in the slightest. They were wrapped up in their own sensations, enjoying the revelry of the night and the wine without a thought for the world.
“No need to put ourselves on even more display,” he said as his gaze traveled the length of my body.
“On the contrary, that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do.
” I glanced across the room, finding Seville already positioned before Zeverin.
He had her pressed against the wall and was tasting her neck with ardent fervor.
She was playing the part well; I had no doubt that glass would be spiked within minutes, and she’d be ushering him away to his room.
“What did Zeverin have to say to you, by the way?” I asked.
“Just more probing questions about your health and my sister’s availability. Lots of empty posturing.” Rorik grimaced as his eyes found Seville and Zeverin, and he shook his head. “Seville can handle herself, though.”
“And I can’t?”
Rorik rounded his stare on me. “Certainly not if you drink that.”
All around me, carnal impulses were being fulfilled without so much as a second thought.
No judgment. No care for the world. Just .
. . release. A flicker of anger threaded through me.
The last time I’d been with someone was Orin.
And while I’d exacted my vengeance by taking his life and burying him in the ground, a small part of me hated that he still had some claim to my body.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I drained the glass in one heavy swig.
Rorik went impossibly still. “What are you doing?”
“Giving my mind a break.” I licked my lips.
Rorik’s eyes followed my tongue. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I hope it’s fun.” I smirked.