Chapter 16 #2
He looks up then, and our eyes meet across the ballroom.
Something unreadable flickers across his face, the distance between us seeming to disappear.
Georgina follows his gaze, and her expression sharpens as she catches me.
A slow, knowing smile curves her lips as she slides one hand higher onto his shoulder, drawing him closer.
I don’t care that they’re here together, I think to myself.
I hate him.
Unfortunately, my traitorous heart doesn’t seem to get the message.
I close my eyes and force myself to focus on the music. I cannot afford to forget who Silas Blackhollow really is. He is a man standing between me and the truth about Josh—and may very well be the heir to the most dangerous family in the history of the Veil.
After another dance, I excuse myself and slip upstairs in search of the ladies’ room… and maybe to do a little investigating.
The second floor is quieter than the ballroom.
Two corridors branch off the landing, one leading to the men’s room and the other to the women’s.
I wander farther down the hallway, peeking into a few open rooms. One has been arranged as a sitting room with velvet chairs and a crackling fireplace.
Another appears to be a small library, its shelves filled with antique books behind locked glass doors.
Every other door I try is locked or empty.
If Strega’s Hollow is hiding secrets tonight, I don’t think I’m going to find them upstairs.
After using the restroom, I find Georgina standing just outside the door, as though she’s been waiting for me. Her smile is pleasant. Her eyes are not.
“Jacqueline Mercer,” she says. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”
“Were you?”
She looks me over slowly, cool disdain settling over her features. “You’ve developed an unfortunate habit of finding yourself in places you don’t belong.”
I can’t tell whether she means being here at the Blackhollow Ball with Rowan, my little adventures at Blackthorn Manor, or something else entirely.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“No. I suppose you wouldn’t.” A faint smile touches her lips. “Be careful tonight, Jacqueline.”
I bristle at the warning.
“I can take care of myself.”
She steps closer, lowering her voice. “I’m sure you believe that, but Veil Night has a way of reminding people exactly who they are and who they are not.”
Veil Night.
She’s the first person who’s actually said the words aloud to me.
“What’s going to happen tonight?” I ask, a chill running through me.
“If no one has told you by now,” she says, “there’s probably a reason.” Then she turns and disappears into the crowd.
I start after her, but before I can make it more than a few steps down the staircase, something slams hard into my back. My footing slips. I catch the banister at the last second, barely stopping myself from crashing onto the marble below.
I spin around to find Van Hawthorne standing a few steps above me, one hand resting lightly on the carved railing. He’s dressed in a black tuxedo with a blood-red pocket square, his eyes glittering with quiet malice.
“You should really try to be less clumsy.”
Van has always unsettled me, but tonight, something about him feels different. Less amused. More menacing.
“What is it?” I mutter. “Asshole Night?”
The faintest smile touches his mouth. “Enjoy the ball while you can.”
Something in the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes hold mine for a beat. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
“You’re a fucking psycho!” I shoot back. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
As I make my way back to the ballroom, my unease grows.
I already knew something bad happened to Josh last Halloween, and the occult books I’ve been studying all point to something big happening tonight.
Now everyone around me is acting completely unhinged.
Georgina, a woman I barely know, cornered me outside the ladies’ room to threaten me, and Van just tried to shove me down a flight of stairs. And Silas…
Silas has spent weeks trying to keep me away from all of this—from Salem’s Fall, from the Blackhollow Ball, from whatever happens on Veil Night.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure I should be here.
“There you are,” Rowan says as I find him waiting on the dance floor, finishing another glass of champagne. “I considered organizing a search party.”
“Might not have been a terrible idea,” I admit. “I ran into enemy territory upstairs. Georgina. And Van.”
“Glad you survived.”
He pulls me into his arms for another dance, one hand settling at my waist as he guides me into the crowd.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for my dress,” I say as he spins me around. “It was sweet of you to send it. Audacious—but sweet.”
“You look exquisite.” His gaze sweeps over the dress, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth. “I’d love to take credit, but I can’t.”
I don’t buy it for a second. His denial sounds sincere, but the smile never quite leaves his face. Apparently, anonymously delivering an obscenely beautiful dress to my door wasn’t dramatic enough. Now he wants to play coy about it too.
“You’re a terrible liar,” I say, shaking my head, grinning back. “But you’ve got excellent taste.”
We complete another turn around the dance floor when a familiar voice interrupts us.
“May I cut in?”
I look up to find Silas beside us.
Right away, I notice something is off. His bow tie hangs loose around his collar, and the top button of his shirt has been undone.
A faint flush warms his normally composed features.
When he steps closer, he sways almost imperceptibly before catching himself.
The unmistakable scent of whiskey clings to him.
Holy shit. Silas Blackhollow is drunk.
“Sorry, Blackhollow. Jack’s dance card is full for the evening,” Rowan says pleasantly, tightening his grip on me.
Silas’s gaze drops, traveling slowly over my dress before returning to my face. There’s an unmistakable heat in his eyes that sends a flush crawling up my neck.
“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking her,” he says.
Every survival instinct that has gotten me through twenty-two years of life tells me this is a terrible idea. I know I should refuse. Yet, to my own horror, I hear myself say, “One dance. It is your party, after all.”
“Jack—”
“It’s okay.” I put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
Rowan looks at me as though he wants to say something more, but instead, he leans down and kisses my cheek before reluctantly releasing me to the wolf.
A heartbeat later, Silas’s hand closes around mine. The instant he touches me, an unwelcome thrill runs up my arm. Every nerve ending seems painfully aware of him—of the heat of his body beside me, of the steady pressure of his fingers laced with mine. I hate how my body responds to him.
He leads me to the far end of the dance floor.
I avoid his gaze, trying to ignore the way his hands settle against my waist, low and almost possessive.
Sparks race across my skin where his fingers press into the fabric of my dress, just firm enough that I feel it everywhere.
My stomach fills with a maddening swarm of butterflies, low and insistent.
He is close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath and catch the heady scent of cedar and smoke, dark and intoxicating. Close enough that, for one reckless second, I forget why I should pull away.
It’s absolutely ludicrous.
This is Silas fucking Blackhollow.
He’s a monster.
I shouldn’t enjoy being in his arms, and I definitely shouldn’t be wondering what his hands would feel like elsewhere, or how easily a man like him could ruin me. But God help me, some reckless part of me wants to find out.
“So,” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady, “should I assume there’s a reason for this, or do you greet all your guests with a dance?”
“You shouldn’t be here tonight.”
“So you’ve told me,” I say. “Many times.”