Page 89 of Caging Darling

I look left.

Astor is holding a goblet in one hand, his only hand. He’s propped up against the wall, watching me. Normally, the sight of his gaze on me would make my face flush, would betray the effect he has on me, but my bargain with Peter slows all that, keeps it contained.

I catch him scanning my face for my reaction to our eye contact, looking for the telltale signs of my attraction he’s used to seeing.

I just turn back to the Nomad.

“So we’re clear, I’ll kill your Mate if you don’t kiss me,” he says, whispering it in my ear as the crowd around us murmurs quietly.

I offer him a fleeting look of confusion, and he explains, his cheek still brushed up against mine. “I’m still not sure the exact terms of your agreement with the flying boy, but I’d rather you not drop dead at my kiss. Though, now that I consider it, it might be good for business to have such a legend floating about.”

I almost roll my eyes at him, but I don’t want Peter or Astor to see. My heart hammers against my chest, and I’m keenly aware of how the attention in the room has shifted to the two of us.

My face threatens to go hot, but the Nomad just snakes his hand to the back of my neck, resting it on the bargain that will kill me if I don’t do as he asks within the span of a moon cycle. “Frightened of me, Darling?” he whispers, twirling my hair in his fingers.

“Moreso of the attention of the entire room,” I whisper back.

The Nomad’s blue eyes flicker. “You’ll thank me later.”

I don’t have time to ask him to explain, because in the next moment, I’m being pulled into his mouth, his lips crushing against mine. I’d asked the Nomad to kiss me, not claim me, but to a man like him, they’re one and the same. The crowd responds, erupting into a frenzy of applause and cheers as the entire world seems to stop around us.

He murmurs against my mouth, too quietly for anyone but me to hear, “If you wish for it to be convincing, Darling, it might be helpful if you kissed me back.”

Oh. Right. It’s only then that I realize I’ve been completely still, unreactive to the Nomad’s advances. Not helpful to my aims, and certainly not something the Nomad will appreciate. I’m sure it’s not a good look for a crime lord to appear undesired.

So I lean in and kiss him back, wrapping my arms around his back and clutching his sandy hair in my hands like I can’t get enough of him.

Kissing him is…not altogether unpleasant.

In fact, as the apprehension of being a spectacle for the room flushes through my blood, I’m filled with a sort of ravenous energy, not for the Nomad, but for the two men in opposite corners of the room. The men I don’t have to look at to know they aren’t joining in with the applause.

I throw myself into the kiss, making a show of melting into him. The more I lean into it, the more I find it natural, relaxing in the Nomad’s arms.

Just like me to find safety in the arms of a killer.

Even so, the Nomad is careful with his hands, doesn’t let them wander anywhere you might expect from a man of his occupation.

When what feels like an eternity but in reality is likely only a few seconds has passed, the Nomad is the first to draw back.

My cheeks and neck are flushed, and as we exchanged the most mischievous glances with one another, my heart flutters with an unfamiliar thrill. The Nomad turns to look at Peter. I probably should too, as he’s the most likely to react violently. But I don’t.

I turn toward Astor.

He’s not looking. In fact, he’s hardly paying attention to anything happening in our direction. It’s as if the entire room stopped to stare at the Nomad and me, and he hasn’t noticed. He’s still talking to the woman sutured to his side, who seems even more desperate for his attention than before.

My heart sinks, and embarrassment replaces the flush of exhilaration on my cheeks.

Stupid. Foolish. I don’t know what I was expecting. Why I thought Nolan Astor, who would have slit my throat to get his wife back, Nolan Astor, who didn’t come to save me from Neverland, even though he knew what Peter’s shadow self was capable of…

Why did I think Nolan Astor would care if he saw me kissing someone else?

Why did I think he’d spare a glance in my direction?

I fight back the sting of the tears at my eyes and my throat and feel the Nomad stroke the Mating Mark on my cheek, his thumb lingering close to my eyelid. I realize he’s stroking awaya tear before it forms, before anyone can see. “It’s not time to let down the curtain yet. Show’s still on.”

I swallow, trying to ignore the lump in my throat, but I’m so afraid I’m going to lose it in front of all these people. Then Astor will see just what a stupid fool I’ve been all this time.

“He didn’t see,” I say. “Or if he did, he doesn’t care.”

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