Chapter 22 Ivy
twenty-two
Ivy
Ivy returned to their table only long enough to let Voresta know she wanted to feed.
She carried on that charade as she moved up the stairs, her heart banging against her ribcage with every step.
Her eyes were fixed upon the darkened archways and although she saw no sign that Killian was still there, she was certain she could feel his presence nearby.
That feeling grew stronger as she reached the upper floor and moved towards the place where she’d seen him earlier. She looked around, but she heard him before she saw him.
“About time you showed up.”
As she peered into the shadows of one of the archways, Killian’s visage slowly materialised.
Ivy’s breath hitched as she took him in.
He was dressed in black jeans with his dagger strapped to his right thigh.
His form-fitting shirt left little of his muscled physique to the imagination.
His hair was messy, with errant strands falling in his face as usual.
There were no signs of black to be seen in his red eyes other than the dots of his pupils.
Before she could reply, he hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her into the shadows with him. His scent surrounded her, and she inhaled it deeply.
“Your dancing is off tonight.” His low voice skittered across her skin, and chills burst to life along her forearms.
“I’m not used to dancing for an audience.” She dared to rest her hands on his hips, and she felt a luxuriant warmth radiating off him.
“In that dress? Trust me, I’m not the only one watching you.” He devoured her with his eyes.
The dress she wore was bright-red; brighter than the blood-red number she wore the previous night.
It wasn’t as short, stopping just above her knee, but it was tight in a way that accentuated her hourglass figure.
The sweetheart neckline displayed the scar on her chest, so she reserved this dress for nights without Leseldh.
The stretchy fabric moved with her as she danced.
It was absolutely designed to turn heads.
Killian’s eyes lingered on the scar on her chest, and a swirl of black flooded his irises for a moment before dissipating. When his gaze returned to hers, the hunger she saw there made her pulse ratchet up a notch.
Ivy felt the need to break the tension before it consumed her, so she turned her head to look out at the dance floor beneath them.
Her eyes found the table she shared with her Broodmates and noticed that Finare was still distracting Voresta with conversation.
However, Voresta’s focus was waning—he peered over his shoulder at the mezzanine as Finare spoke.
Killian’s gaze followed hers, but he remained silent.
“I’d say we only have a few minutes before he starts tearing this place apart looking for me.” Ivy’s voice was edged with worry, which matched her expression. She turned back to Killian. “So we’d better act quick.”
“What are you suggesting?” His lips kicked up in a smile.
“That we get the fuck out of here.” Ivy’s heart pounded as the words fell from her lips.
This needs to be explored. No matter what the consequences are.