Page 100 of The Unweaver

“Let go.” Cora yanked out of his grip, splashing champagne on both their trousers.

“What’s with this get up, anyways? My Lorena—my sweet bride that you took from me—would’ve never worn something like that. No real woman would be caught dead dressed in a man’s suit. Women should be feminine, but modest. Are you even a woman?”

“That’s a lot of words forno one will have sex with me.”

Emboldened by the several substances in her bloodstream, Cora spoke the words loudly. Too loudly. A hush fell over the room, drawing curious eyes to her and the Electromancer.

Bane pinched the bridge of his nose, but Cora caught the quirk of his lips before he ducked his head.

Yvonne’s laugh, tinkling like a bell, broke the tension. “A dance sounds wonderful, Monsieur Durbec. Shall we? Guy, please lead the way.”

Guy shot Cora one last spiteful look before showing them out. Bane shoved her through the curtains a moment later, growling, “Sober up or go home.”

Cora trailed after the others onto the packed dance floor. Rather than stepping back onto the stage, she squirmed through the press of bodies and followed Durbec’s shellacked head untilhe was swallowed by the crowd. Finding him was especially difficult as there seemed to be two of everybody.

An oily voice purred in her ear, “Mademoiselle.”

Chapter 28. One Thread at a Time

Cora jerked back and nearly knocked Durbec’s proffered drink out of his hand. He spoke something she couldn’t hear above her own heartbeat and the music. The band had started without her.

Durbec took a step toward her. She took a step back, but there was a wall of bodies behind her. He captured her hand and brought it to his chest. Her fingers brushed a hard lump under his shirt, and the urge to withdraw her hand evaporated.

Marcel stepped closer. She didn’t move away.

“What is this?” Her fingers traced the lump circling his collar.

“A charm necklace.” Marcel’s lips moistened the shell of her ear. “To enchant beautiful mademoiselles such as yourself.S'il te plaît, hold onto it. Keep holding onto it.Bien. And here, now, drink this. I made it just for you,mon cœur.”

How thoughtful of this sweet little man.Cora smiled and lifted the glass to her lips. The drink tasted like bitter almonds. Its effervescence tickled her nose.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Marcel said when she lowered the glass. “Drink all of it, mademoiselle.”

As Cora had been practicing all day, she downed the drink. Marcel pulled her down the hallway to the toilets. He didn’t need to ask. She would have followed him anywhere. He was such agentleman as he guided her into a dark alcove, murmuring in his sweet voice how lovely she was.Statuesque.Resplendent.Going to earn me a shit ton of money.

She still clutched his charm necklace and the empty glass, but her grip was weakening. Her limbs grew heavy, and her eyelashes seemed to be individually tied down. Fighting a losing battle against gravity, she slumped against the wall with a relieved sigh.

“Do you have any weapons on you,mon cœur? Hm? Just this knife? Oh, and this one? And thisone?Andthis one? And— just give me all your weapons.”

Muscles slackening, Cora slowly retrieved each blade she’d stashed. She’d be wearing more suits from now on from the pockets alone.

It felt good to hand her weapons to Marcel. She could trust him. He was the rock that steadied her. Literally. Leaning against him was now the only thing keeping her upright. Her tongue was too thick to form words, but if she could, she’d thank him. Why had she ever thought he was anything but a dear, sweet man?

There was no resistance from her leaden limbs when Marcel tugged her towards amore private place. He shifted to open a door leading outside, and her fingers slipped from his necklace. His palm was soft and damp as he hoisted her back.

A clammy hand silenced her scream.

The memory clawed at the edges of her mind. She reared back. Her heart pounded wildly, yet her muscles were too loose to make a fist. Panic surged beneath the drugged feeling. She slipped from Durbec’s grasp, wobbling backwards into something solid.

Bane appeared like an unexpected storm and drew her into his arms. Durbec froze, fear etched onto his face. He lickedhis lips and made to run when he collided with the hulking Hydromancer blocking his exit.

“Dimitri,” Bane said in an icy voice. “Escort our guest to my office.”

Vaguely, she heard the sound of something being dragged away. Drowsiness weighed down every limb as she sank against Bane. Brow knitted in concern, he asked her earnest questions she didn’t hear. She tried to speak but her words came out like a prolonged groan.

He swept her up into his arms and carried her through a parting sea of bodies. Nestled against him, she drifted in the slumberous rocking of his body.

The leather was firm at her back when he laid her down on his office couch. She clung to his jacket, desperate to keep him from leaving. He rested a knee between her legs and leaned over her, his concerned face swimming in her vision. His eyes were as dark as a moonless night swirling amidst snow brightness.

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