Page 36 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

I just flash him an unapologetic grin.

My stomach lurches as he picks up the pace, spinning us faster and faster as the song approaches its crescendo. Candlelight flickers around me, and my dress swishes across the smooth floor.

“So, clothes tell a story,” Draven says. “I’m wearing this. And you…”

He slides his hand from my waist and up along the side of my ribs. I suck in a shuddering breath that I’m not entirely sure has anything at all to do with the pace of our dance. His fingers skim my back as he keeps his hand high up on the side of my ribs. Lights flicker through my brain as he draws his thumb along the curve right underneath my breast.

“You’re wearing a silver dress that you were ordered to wear,” he continues. For the first time tonight, a cruel glint creeps into his eyes as he stares me down. “Just like all the other fae in this room, you weren’t even allowed to wear your own clothes.” He slides his hand back to my waist as he spins us again. “So what does that tell you?”

I open my mouth to respond, but before any words can make it out, the song ends with a dramatic pounding.

Draven spins us one last time and then uses our momentum to dip me towards the floor. My back arches over his hand, and my hair flows down to brush against the floor. Draven leans down over me.

“It says that you’re so outmatched against me that you will never be a threat to my power,” he whispers against my mouth.

My heart slams against my ribs. Then he abruptly pulls back and yanks me up into a standing position again. I blink,disoriented for a second while Draven releases me and takes a step back.

“Except I was,” I blurt out before he can walk away with the last word. “I was a threat to you and your precious image back during that power demonstration.”

He scoffs and then flashes me a mocking smile. “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”

His wings shift slightly as he tucks them closer and starts turning to leave.

“Why did you do this?” I ask, almost stumbling over the words in my haste to get them out before he can stride away.

He turns back to me and raises his eyebrows in silent question. I motion vaguely at the dance floor around us, where the other couples are now moving away towards the tables filled with food and drink instead.

“Why did you dance with me?” I ask.

An unreadable expression slides across his handsome features. I have to suppress the urge to back away as he starts advancing on me again. He moves until he’s so close that his chest brushes against mine. Then he leans down.

For one insane second, I think he’s going to kiss me.

But right before his lips can touch mine, he angles his head and instead continues forward until his mouth is right next to my ear.

A shiver of pleasure rolls down my spine as his breath caresses the shell of my ear. And I swear I can almost feel the bastard smirking.

“Because now,” he begins, once more making his breath dance over my sensitive skin, “I have just put a gigantic target on your back.”

My heart drops and my stomach flips.

Draven draws back, and when he meets my gaze again, there is a wicked grin on his mouth. He winks. “You’re welcome.”

Then, before I can so much as curse him, he turns and strides away, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor. Alone. My heart patters nervously as I slowly turn to look at the crowd around me.

Dread spreads through my chest like cold poison.

Because Draven is right. Every single contestant is now watching me through narrowed eyes. Some of them flick a glance at Draven before they continue studying me and talking quietly to the people next to them.

“Fucking asshole,” I growl under my breath.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I stalk away from the dance floor and towards the first group of contestants that I see. Or rather, the first group that contains a somewhat friendly face. I need to try to mitigate the damage Draven caused before the rumors can spread too much.

Fenriel, the guy with the hawk who stays in the room across from mine, stares at me with surprise and confusion written all over his narrow face. I walk up to his group, snatch up a glass of wine from the table, and down the whole thing before grabbing another one.

“Mabona’s fucking tits,” I curse.

The other contestants just watch me warily.

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