Page 90 of Caging Darling

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Perhaps you’re just not looking in the right place.”

I frown, then go back to look again at Astor, but I’m interrupted as Peter comes gliding up to us. He cuts his hand in between us, breaking up our dance.

“It’s time for Wendy and I to retire to bed,” he says, his smile all acid.

My stomach wilts. There’s a jealousy in Peter’s eyes that has the uncanny resemblance to an appetite. I don’t want to think about what he’ll want from me once we’re alone, after a display like the Nomad and I just put on.

My previously flushed cheeks go cold, my hands and arms clammy underneath my gloves.

The Nomad must sense my drop in temperature, because he curls his fingers through mine. “Now, I hardly think that would be appropriate, given what the crowd just witnessed. I can’t have a known mistress of mine sleeping with one of my guests. It would undermine me in the eyes of my enemies, you understand.”

Peter’s blue eyes turn to ice. He grabs my arm. “Come, Wendy. We’re not staying.”

The Nomad smiles at Peter, but he reaches out and pries Peter’s hand off my arm all the same.

“Don’t think I won’t kill you,” the Nomad breathes. “I know you have a fascination with claiming what’s yours, but I have my own trophies I like to keep close, my image being one of them.”

“Killing me will kill her,” says Peter.

“Then I suggest you take a step back,” says the Nomad. I glance at his eyes and find no deception there. A chill snakes through me. I’ll have to remember that while the Nomad and I might find our intentions aligned in some areas, he’s not my friend.

Still, he’s keeping me from having to assuage Peter’s pride tonight. For that, I can’t say I mind the threat to my life all that much.

Peter’s breathing hard, but he lets go of my arm.

The Nomad grins. “She’ll sleep in my quarters during your stay here. Oh, don’t look at me like that—it’s all for show. Don’t worry, I won’t lay a hand on your Darling little possession.” The Nomad grins like he’s content with Peter believing he’s lying through his teeth.

“If I find out you as much as?—”

The Nomad tsks. “You can have her back when I have what I want. So I suggest you get to work.”

Peter looks as if he’s about to explode, but he must realize he’s on the verge of losing his composure, because he takes a step back and composes himself, that familiar sly, carefree look overcoming his face. “As you wish,” he says, before making a show of slinking into his shadow form and exiting the room.

The crowd around us gasps, and the Nomad’s jaw bulges with an annoyed tick.

“You’re not the only one who likes attention, I’m afraid,” I say.

“I can see that,” he says, turning back toward me.

“You’re being kind to me,” I say as we drift into another dance, me fighting the entire time not to look in Astor’s direction. Trying not to be crushed that he hasn’t bothered to intervene.

The Nomad cocks his head at me. “Am I? I thought I was taking you to be my mistress?”

I crinkle my nose at him.

“Does that amuse you?” he asks.

“It does, actually. Because I’ve been kissed plenty of times in my life, and I can guarantee there was little to no desire in that one.”

“Ouch.”

I smile. “I meant on your side.”

The Nomad crinkles his nose, mimicking me. “Well, you were the one who asked me to kiss you.”

“Still, you’re being kind by getting me out of Peter’s room.”

The Nomad’s face goes cold. “You have a terrible habit of perceiving friendship in the strategic moves others make, Wendy Darling. I’d break myself of that tendency if I were you.”

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