Page 33 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

A jolt shoots through my body as he suddenly drops his hand from the wall and instead draws it up my thigh, lifting the silver dress skirt. Lightning skitters across my skin as Draven’s fingers brush over my naked thigh. My brain malfunctions and my heart stalls and I can’t for the life of me figure out what is going on.

Then his strong hand wraps around the hilt of my hidden knife, and a smirk spreads across his mouth. “Then why were you desperately clutching this blade until just a few seconds ago?”

My heart pounds against my ribs. His hand remains around the hilt of the knife, his knuckles brushing against my skin as he holds it firmly. I can barely think straight when his fingers are that close to the inside of my thigh.

“Because I’m not stupid,” I manage to press out in reply. “If you were going to try to kill me, I was going to fight back.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs. The sound is so low and dark that I can feel it vibrating through the air. He flexes his fingers on the hilt, his intense eyes still locked on mine. “Do you know what the punishment is for attempting to kill the Commander of the Dread Legion in the Iceheart Dynasty?”

I draw in short shallow breaths while several very different and confusing emotions pulse inside me.

The sly smile on his lips grows as he slides my knife out of its holster. The blade glints in the firelight when he expertly spins itin his hand. I suck in a sharp breath as he yanks up the knife and holds it against my throat.

My pulse thrums in my ears.

Moving his hand upwards, he presses the flat of the blade underneath my chin and uses it to tilt my head back.

I just hold his gaze, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“But…” he begins, that sly smile now back on his lips again. “I could be persuaded to let your threatening actions slide.”

“In exchange for what?”

“A dance.”

The world goes suddenly silent. I just stare back at Draven, certain that I must have misheard him. But when no other explanation is forthcoming, I blink and shake my head to clear it.

“A dance?” I repeat, stunned shock still lacing my voice as I stare up at him. “You want to dance? With me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He pushes my chin higher up with the blade still in his hand. “Take it or leave it.”

And because I’m not a complete idiot, I naturally reply, “Alright.”

A dark chuckle escapes his chest. “Good choice.”

In one fluid motion, he takes the knife from my throat, spins it in his hand, and then offers it to me hilt first. I take it and slide it back into the holster on my thigh while my brain is still trying to figure out what in Mabona’s name is going on here.

Draven holds out his arm to me. “Well then, shall we?”

I stare at him. On the surface, the gesture is full of chivalry, but there is something distinctly threatening about the wicked smile on his mouth. I can’t help but feel as if I’m about to walk right into a trap. But I can’t for the life of me figure out what kind of trap.

So in the end, I just take his arm and let him lead me back into the ballroom.

One dance. It’s just one dance.

Surely I can survive that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

We only make it three steps into the ballroom before I stumble to a halt. Or try to, anyway. Draven simply keeps walking, pulling me with him. But he glances down at me and arches an eyebrow.

“Changed your mind?” he asks.

“I… No. Well, I…” I stammer while that awful realization that hit me a few seconds ago still crackles through my every nerve. It makes panic flicker through me, so in the end, I just blurt out, “I can’t dance.”

---