Page 24 of Riot of Autumn

“And I am excellent at pulling people’s dreams from them. Would you care to see a demonstration?”

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Anthony asks with a lazy cock of his head toward the Duke.

“I think it’s just what’s needed to liven up this party.”

The Duke crooks his finger and the couple bumble forward, the woman giggling and the man smiling excitedly. With a flourish, the Duke sits up and holds out his hands toward the two of them. The woman bites her lip as she places her fingers in his and the man swiftly takes his other hand. I have no idea what these two heard the Duke could do, but my gut is churning and my brain is screaming danger, telling me to run. Do they have no sense of self-preservation? Can I only sense it because I have magic? Or are they drugged?

I tear my eyes away from the Duke for long enough to see women in skimpy outfits sliding around the room, handing out shots to anyone who walks into the party. Are they magical roofies or something? I wonder if Miri could reverse engineer a potion, if that’s what it is? Miri’s pretty incredible with the potions, but it’s not like she’s got a lab to uncover the ingredients at a molecular level. She really should set one up at her house.

Focusing back on the Duke, I notice the couple is now on their knees in front of him. He’s leaning forward in anticipation, a rictus grin on his face.

“Mmm. Your dreams are barely worth tasting, but with such limited choices here, I’ll have to make do.” The Duke pulls his hands away from the couple, moving them slowly like he’s peeling back a label.

I clamp my mouth shut when a faint shimmering substance stretches between the couple’s and the Duke’s hands. The Duke swirls his fingers through the slightly luminous matter, as though forming it into a ball. He brings it to his face and inhales the glowing orb.

This is horrifying.

Ezra’s fingers squeeze my shoulders, and he tugs me back. I stumble into him, the yank unexpected. I turn my head to ask him what his problem is, but it’s pretty damn clear. He’s not completely visible, but I see the faint outline of his form.

“Fuck.” My eyes widen, and I murmur under my breath. The noise of the party and the moans of the people at the Duke’s feet are thankfully loud enough to cover my words.

Ezra’s hand slides down my arm, never losing contact. His long fingers close around mine, and then we’re hurrying through the crowd. There are more people in here now, and it’s even harder to keep from knocking into them. I let Ezra guide us, and he winds us in and around people who are either drunk, high, or involved in a sexual act of some kind.

I don’t breathe until we’re in the hallway. The fact that we walked through the room undetected must have been its own form of magic. Except we’re not that lucky. A wave of people come streaming down the hall from the front door. My heart does backflips when I hear Colton shout something at them from the game room. Ezra and I are stuck right in the middle.

Ezra’s still only a faint outline, but it’s enough that someone looking close would wonder what the fuck they’re seeing. I’m frozen with indecision when Ezra’s hand moves up to my forearm and he pulls me into an alcove. What are we, in a Regency novel? Are we going to hang out behind a potted plant all night?

Then I spot a door to the left. Ezra slowly turns the handle and opens it enough to stick his head inside. Seeming to come to a conclusion, he pushes the door open far enough for the two of us to squeeze through.

I’m immediately surrounded by coats. It’s dark and there’s no chance we can turn on a light. I shove one of the coats out of the way and almost squeal when my hand connects to something furry.

“What the fuck?” I hiss, falling through the hanging clothing until I reach the back wall of the closet. It’s big enough that I can stand sideways with one shoulder against the wall and my other shoulder not quite touching the jackets.

“It’s a fur coat.” The dull light of Ezra’s phone screen comes to life, illuminating the small space. He’s right. There’s an entire collection of what I would consider old lady coats in here.

“Did the Smithe’s leave all their shit here when they moved?” That fur looks like something Delia Smithe would have trotted around town in.

“Who the hell knows.”

A thump sounds on the wall that’s shared with the hallway and Ezra clicks off his phone. Then his body is on mine, pinning me to the back of the closet, like he’s afraid someone is going to bust in here and start shooting at us. Both of us keep our mouths shut, but there’s no controlling my rampaging heartbeat. I’m breathing fast, but I can’t help it. All I can do is try not to breathe too loudly. The thing is, I’m not sure it’s the fear of being discovered that’s got me so worked up.

It’s Ezra.

The position we’re in is achingly reminiscent of the alley the other night. Except there’s nothing else to distract me. In the dark, everything feels heightened. I can’t see his face, but I feel his breath on my cheek. His body is flush with mine, and somehow my hands are on their way to his sides. The heat of his skin through his shirt nearly scorches my fingers. He’s so damn hot. It only makes me want to get closer.

Someone shouts in the hall and the thump of music vibrates the wall against my back. My heart is beating in time with the music, and I’m suddenly maddeningly aware of Ezra. His hands holding the top of my arms. His fingers gripping so tightly it could be painful, but it’s not. There’s too much tension in this small space for the touch to be anything other than charged. And the smell of him. God. If there is any other smell in this entire world that is more intoxicating, it would be illegal. The woods, spice, and illicit nighttime activities.

Shit, his smell. That means the potion is wearing off.

Ezra’s breaths paint the skin of my jaw and neck as his head moves lower. My forehead is pressed into his shoulder, and his presence overloads my senses. We stand there, locked in a half embrace. The only thing we can focus on is the nearness of each other. Our breaths sync up until we’re breathing together, chests rising and falling as though we’re one entity.

Something shifts between us. There’s a buzz in the air, the charge that’s always present when Ezra’s close, that becomes an uncontrollable force. His hand moves from my shoulder to my neck, wrapping around until his fingers are on my nape and his thumb is on my jaw. My hands slide from his sides to his back, and I gather the fabric of his shirt until I feel his skin. Ezra lowers his head, tucking it against my neck. His breath puffs out when my fingers touch his bare skin.

So far, we haven’t done anything we can’t come back from. A little hug, a bit of touching, some synchronized deep breathing. Yeah, that line we’ve been towing is about to be demolished.

Ezra pushes me flat against the wall and rocks his hips into me. The low moan that comes out of me is the final nail in the coffin. It sets off Ezra like it’s a command programmed into his psyche.

His hands are on my ass in the next second, lifting me up. Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I helpfully hop up and wrap my legs around his waist. Fuck, he’s strong. He doesn’t even flinch as he holds me, barely pressing me into the wall. One shift of his hips and the hard length of his dick grinds against my clit. I gasp and need rips through me as I shift my hips, looking for friction to ease the ache. My skirt is rucked up past my hips and my panties are soaked. God, I’m probably making a mess of Ezra’s pants and he’s barely touched me.

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