Page 75 of A Dance Macabre

He’s burrowed himself into my mind, my heart … my soul.

While my fingers still hover close to my mouth, my eyes peer deeply into the mirror, remembering the Oracle’s words.

The joining of our two fates.

Something in me yearns to accept this, to fall even deeper into folly—with Wolfgang by my side. But that would take an insurmountable amount of trust that I don’t believe I even carry inside of me.

Since my unfortunate birth, I have trusted no one but myself.

And now? I’m asked to trust the man who I’ve already betrayed.

How could he ever trustme?

We appear to have doomed ourselves from the very beginning. And yet … the intoxicating vision of our union as the symbol of a new epoch for our city is as heady and alluring as Wolfgang himself.

After slippinginto a short nightgown and robe, I leave the bedchamber in search of my dogs. Their absence guides me toward the West Wing. The halls are dark this time of night, small flickers of warm light emanate from the sconces near the ceiling. While approaching Wolfgang’s door, I recall the last time I stood at this very spot—when I caught him in a lewd act, and when my hatred for him fueled my spellbinding attraction to him.

I can no longer find solace behind that kind of armor.

And what's left is … me.

Unlike last time, I do not linger in the shadows, instead pushing the door open, and walking in. Although I was expecting it, seeing my dogs sleeping snuggly around Wolfgang in bed has my breath dying somewhere in my lungs, a small swoop tugging on my stomach.

Wolfgang is shirtless and in a pair of black silk pants, lying over the covers, his back resting against the headboard. Sundae has her chin resting on his thigh, Éclair is curled at the foot of the bed while Truffles snores on the ground curled into the rug.

His eyes lift from the book he’s reading, peering from behind his reading glasses, his gaze nearly knocking me over as if I’ve become as light as a feather.

“You’re back,” he states, his eyes dropping back to his book.

“I thought you hated my dogs,” I reply.

A subtle grin appears on his mouth, and he tries to hide it with a quick rub of his thumb over his lips. “I thought I hated their mother, too.”

My cheeks heat, and I almost run out of the room from the sheer embarrassment of my reaction to Wolfgang’s loaded words.

The silence percolates between us. I haven’t taken another step inside.

With a sigh, Wolfgang takes off his glasses and places the leather-bound book face-down on the bedside table, pinning me with his stare once again.

He says nothing. I say nothing back.

Canting his head, he pats the bed beside him.

With the movement, Sundae perks up her head, now realizing I’m in the room.

I tell myself it’s because of the dogs. Not Wolfgang with his bare chest and silk pants low around his hips. As I tentatively approach, his eyes turn a darker shade of blue. I step out of my feathered slippers and take off my robe, draping it over the chair near the vanity.

“I’m not staying the night,” I mutter, feeling foolish even saying that out loud.

“As you wish, Crèvecoeur,” Wolfgang replies roguishly.

I slip under the heavy quilted duvet while he does the same, the satin sheets cool against my skin. Resting my back against the pillows and headboard, Sundae shifts position, her nose nudging my hand to ask for some affection.

“You know,” Wolfgang starts, stretching his arms wide before shifting his body toward me. “Although the circumstances were quite dire.” His smile turns cocksure. “I have never slept as well as when we were in the underground quarters fearing for our lives.”

I pick at my nail nervously while I maintain his gaze, listening to the words he did not speak.

When we slept in the same bed.

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