23. Two Days Until Bonding
Chapter twenty-three
Two Days Until Bonding
Laurel
I go after him, but the crowd closes around me before I make it ten feet.
Hands catch mine. Arms wrap around my shoulders. Strangers offer congratulations.
I force my mouth into a strained smile and keep moving, answering each person with the fewest words politeness allows. Thank you. Yes, we’re very happy. Excuse me.
By the time I escape the room, Carrson is gone. No dark head disappears through the foyer, and I can’t find his black Zorro mask among the guests spilling into the hall.
One man wears a similar mask, but the sharp hook of his nose rules him out.
I avoid the front of the house, where more people might stop me, and hurry toward the rear corridor instead. The kitchen doors swing open and shut as staff carry trays in and out. The air smells of burnt coffee and chocolate soufflé.
In the hallway between the kitchen and Carr’s office, a server steps directly into my path.
Like the guests, the staff are masked for the ball. His is blue, matching the vest and bow tie under his black tuxedo.
“Would you like a drink, miss?”
He extends a tray crowded with tiny glasses of dark liquor. Port, I think. I barely look.
“No, thanks.”
I move to pass him, but he shifts with me.
I try the other side.
He blocks that one too.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” he asks. “Having a bad night?”
That exaggerated drawl, mocking tone, and the word sugar have my gaze snapping up to his. Bright blue eyes twinkle at me merrily.
“Silas?” I search the skin under his eyes for the familiar teardrop tattoos, but they’re gone. He must have concealed them with makeup, the same way I hid my brand.
I glance both ways down the hallway, but we’re alone. “What’re you doing here?”
“Infiltrating the most powerful secret society in the world.” He lifts the tray. “The tips are surprisingly bad.”
I gape. “Seriously?”
He shrugs, and I know that’s all I’ll get from him.
“I saw your little showdown with Carrson.” His eyes dip to the brand on my chest. “Boyfriend didn’t look too happy.”
“He’s not. I need to see him. Explain things.” My fingers find the necklace, and I swallow back the sob that wants to claw up my throat. “Even then, I’m not sure he’ll forgive me.”
“Here’s the ugly thing about love.” Silas plucks one of the glasses from the tray. “The thing that draws you to someone is usually the same thing you end up fighting about later.”
I blink. Is Silas Creed, notorious leader of The Jackals, giving me…relationship advice?
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Take Carrson. The poor kid lives on control. It makes him feel powerful. Safe. Then you come along, and he can’t predict you, can’t command you, can’t stop wanting you. That’s the attraction.”
He tips back the drink and drains it in one swallow, which I’m fairly sure isn’t how port is supposed to work.
“Now you’re running around being stubborn and headstrong. Don’t give me that look. You are. You made a choice he couldn’t prevent, and it scares the hell out of him.”
“I suppose…” I say, turning that over in my mind.
“Evangeline was so sweet. Innocent, almost na?ve. I loved that about her.” Silas takes another port, empties it with the same irreverence, and then licks his lips. “But it blinded her. She didn’t see the danger coming until it was too late.”
Voices drift from the kitchen. Silas glances toward them, but his body remains loose, the tray balanced easily in one hand. “Have you seen her yet, Laurel? Eyes of lavender.”
“No.” My mind is already returning to Carrson, worrying he won’t understand that I did it for him, at least partly. “I haven’t seen anyone like that.”
The tray dips half an inch. The glasses slide, heading for the edge. They almost fall, but Silas jerks it level at the last minute.
“Look harder.” His usual drawl disappears. I look up, startled, but his easy expression is already back in place, as much a mask as the one over his face.
“Now mosey along,” he says. “Go upstairs. I saw Carrson heading toward his bedroom. You two kiss and make up. Slip him some tongue. That usually helps.”
He laughs at the disgusted look I give him.
I turn to leave.
“Remember, Laurel.”
I look back.
“I’ll be watching you. Listening to every word you say.” His blue eyes gleam. “I always am.”
“You should leave, Silas,” I warn. “They’ll kill you if they find you here.”
“Aw, your concern warms my heart.” He presses one hand to his vest and grins. “Run along, tiger.”
I narrow my eyes, and my fingers curl. I don’t like hearing Carrson’s private name for me in Silas’s mouth, which is exactly why he does it.
His laughter follows me onto the back staircase as I hurry after Carrson.