Chapter 22
twenty-two
MERRICK
Her touch is positively electric. Tingles race along my arm, straight to my heart. Every ingrained instinct screams at me to pull away. To flee.
But I tighten my hold and lead her into the ballroom, every step digging me deeper into this impossible charade where I play the role of a man capable of intimacy and she the smart, funny, beautiful woman who chose me.
This dance might well be the death of me.
But if it will save her from that retched cunt in the ill-fitting suit with the leering gaze, then call me a willing sacrifice. Depending on how the evening progresses, perhaps I’ll ask Oliver to carve out the man’s eyes with an oyster spoon. A request I’m sure he’d be thrilled to oblige.
At the edge of the dance floor, I stop and close my eyes, summoning my composure.
With a final steadying breath, I open my eyes and draw her close, stiffly leading us into the dance.
She is as luminous as the moon.
Her dress is elegant and simple, the color of the twilight sky, a dark and fathomless blue that shimmers ever so slightly when she moves.
She’s done her long hair up into some sort of twist, delicate tendrils framing her face.
A silver necklace shaped like a vine glitters along her collarbone, twisting this way and that, studded with small sapphires that catch the light.
The sight of her in my arms—conscious, this time—steals my breath, though I know I should say something. About the dress, the hair, the jewels adorning her neck.
But all I can see is her lovely, heart-shaped face.
I could write an entire sonnet about her eyes, and the perfect pout of her lips has me dreaming of another time, another place, long before I bargained away my soul.
Long before even the cruelties of my human life carved away the parts of me that ever hungered for more.
There is no more escaping the truth. Elizabeth Bonnivarde has utterly bewitched me.
Which is problematic on multiple levels, not the least of which is that we have a job to do tonight.
One that requires absolute focus, and yet the very sight of her threatens to turn me into a babbling monkey incapable of scratching his own backside, let alone executing a complex spy mission in the house of a potential enemy.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” she asks, undoubtedly sensing my nerves. “We could just… get some drinks?”
“No, I… I apologize for the awkwardness. It’s been… a long time since I’ve danced.”
“I was surprised you asked.”
“No more surprised than I.”
“Why did you? Honest answer.”
Bloody Hell. Everywhere her body touches mine, I ache.
I clear my throat. Guide her into a gentle twirl, then back, saving myself from that so-called honest answer, offering another instead. “You look lovely, Miss Bonnivarde.”
“Really?” Her hand briefly leaves my shoulder, fluttering self-consciously to her neck before returning to me. “Kate found the dress in Mom’s old things and altered it for me. The necklace, too. I wasn’t sure if it was all too much, but… vintage is so in, right?”
“Considering I qualify as vintage myself, I’m inclined to agree.”
“Ooh! I have an idea. Since you’re in such an agreeable mood…” She grins, nearly gutting me with it. “Favor? Just for tonight?”
“You and your ideas. Why do I get the sense I’m being led into a trap?”
“No trap. Just a request.” Her brow furrows the way it does when she’s concentrating on a summoning and wants very badly to succeed.
“Okay, I know you’re Mr. Rules and Regulations, and I don’t want you to feel disrespected or anything.
Because I totally respect you. It’s just... we’re practically on a date, and—”
“What?” Suddenly, my throat is dry. The temperature in the room is warmer than it should be. The music louder, the lights far too brash. “We are most certainly not on a date.”
“A pretend date. And it feels weird to be so… so formal with each other.” She gazes up at me again, her eyes luminescent in the low-lit ballroom.
“Is it cool if we use our first names? Just for the night?” As quickly as the words are out, she’s shaking her head, her gaze falling away.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Oh, God. Please don’t make it weird, Professor.”
“When have I ever…?” I let the thought fade as the realization dawns. Fuck. I always make it weird. It’s practically a compulsion.
I let the silence simmer. Leash my weird instincts. A memory surfaces from the first night we met, when she was so certain I’d judged her unworthy. That I didn’t like her.
Wasn’t there another demon available? One that’s a little more…cool?
How far we’ve come, my star pupil and I.
“I’m not all rules and regulations, you know,” I finally say. “I’ve been known to rebel once or twice in my day.”
“Definitely,” she teases. “One time in the cemetery, I caught you with your top button undone. Very scandalous. Oh! And that other time you started a new journal when there was still a blank page left in the old one. Positively mutinous!”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Very well, Elizabeth. You have made your point. You know, for someone who detests lawyers, I think you’d make a fine one.”
Her return smile is worth a bit of personal discomfort. Besides, I’d never admit this, but I rather like the taste of her name in my mouth.
Elizabeth…
She arches a playful eyebrow. “It’s only on account of you looking so good in a tux, Merrick, that I’m letting you get away with that lawyer dig. Come tomorrow, all bets are off.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
The music crests and fades, transitioning into a new song. I lower her into a dip, then draw her back up, expecting this to be our parting move.
But she only tucks in closer, so close I’m certain she can feel the pounding of my heart.
“You never answered my question,” she says softly.
I laugh. “You’ll need to be more specific. You are full of questions.”
Her gaze sweeps my face, lingering a moment on my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Why did you ask me to dance tonight, Merrick?”
Stripped beneath the intensity of her gaze, the sincerity of her question, I am utterly exposed.
In this fragile, intimate moment, I can not lie to her.
I lean in close, grazing the shell of her ear with my lips. “I suppose I wanted an excuse to hold you. And to have you hold me back.”
Shivering, she tightens her hold on me.
She is sunshine in my hands. Warmth and joy and every good thing it means to be a human with a beating heart, with a soul, with a finite chance to make the most of every bloody moment. Immortality and condemnation have stolen that from me, but right now, just for tonight, she’s given it back.
“I’ve imagined how this would feel so many times,” I whisper, “but none of them have even come close.”
“How does it feel?”
I press a lock of her golden hair to my nose and draw in a deep breath, my eyes drifting closed. “Like trying to capture a memory I know I’m cursed to forget.”
“Merrick…” Her breath is hot and soft against my neck, and when I open my eyes, I find her gazing up at me, desire burning in her eyes, and I lean closer, pressing our bodies together until I imagine there’s no air, no light left between us.
“How is it I’ve been alive for over a century, across continents and realms, yet feel as though I never even existed before you came into my life?” I touch my forehead to hers, breathing her in. “Tell me this is real. Tell me I’ve not somehow stumbled into a dream.”
“If it’s a dream, we’re in it together.” She trails her fingers up the back of my neck, casting shivers down my spine. By the time the music fades, I’m dizzy and intoxicated with the sensations. With her.
We finally break apart, but she’s still holding my hand, and my heart is a raging storm, and I can’t stop staring at her mouth.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispers, and because we’re still lingering in our momentary fiction, where she’s given me life and a soul and a second chance upon which I know the clock is ticking, I decide to lead with honesty one more time.
“I’m thinking I’d really like to kiss you. Which is both shocking and revelatory, and completely new territory for me, and if I’d brought my field journal, I’d be recording these observations for later analysis, but…” A soft chuckle. “Sorry. Allow me to attempt to stay on topic. May I?”
She laughs. “Stay on topic?”
“Kiss you.” I cup her face. Trace my thumb along the corner of her mouth. “I fear if I don’t, my heart might literally burst. And you know I’m not one for hyperbole.”
“No, I suppose not.” Her smile fades. She closes her eyes, turns into my touch. “Merrick, I—”
“Everyone, if I may have your attention?” The call rings throughout the ballroom, accompanied by the clinking of silverware on crystal.
Perched on the stage with the band, Nathan Killroy holds court like a king bestowing false blessings upon his simpering nobility. “The auction will begin momentarily!”
The band plays a jaunty riff. Cheers ensue.
“Kindly start making your way to the auction room with your dates, a beverage of your choosing, and the most important accessory—your checkbooks!”
Another riff. A wave of high, false laughter.
“We’ll get underway in just a few moments. And folks, we’ve got a very special surprise in store tonight—one you won’t want to miss. Here’s to a positively enchanted evening!“ He lifts his crystal goblet, and the masses follow suit, catcalling and whistling.
The noise finally settles, and the crowd begins to clear the dance floor, jostling us as they pass. Elizabeth glances up at me, her smile shy, eyes filled with regret.
Our moment, it seems, has passed.
“Showtime,” she whispers, and together we slip into the shadows, moving away from the direction of the crowd.
She does not, I notice with a deep and resounding pleasure, release my hand.