Page 47 of Tragic Ink
“I thought I’d recognize more people. I thought they’d have their masks off by now,” I said, irritated by the lack of recognition for people I’d literally grown uparound.
“You just have to look for other markers,” Rhys assured me. “See there? The woman with short, silver hair?” He pointed. “That’s Jetta Mills. And there? The purple hair? That’s JuliannaFairchild.”
“Yeah. Okay, that makes sense. I see it now.” I forced a deep breath in, then outslowly.
“Look for those clues,” Rhys encouraged. “And if you see anything strange, let meknow.”
For a few minutes, we watched and quietly pointed out when we each recognized someone in the crowd. The sight of the familiar figures made me feel a little better until I remembered our guy could literally be any of themnow.
Rhys finished his drink, and a waiter appeared to take his empty glass. I handed him mine, still half-full. I couldn’t drink when I was already so tightlywound.
“Don’t scratch it,” I said quietly when the waiter was gone. “It’ll drawattention.”
Rhys dropped his hand from where he’d been rubbing at a spot on his arm through his suit jacket. I watched his hand fall to his side and then let my gaze trail up his arms to his chest and back down again. My thoughts wandered to last night; the ink I’d given him and then the part that cameafter...
“Are you checking me outagain?”
I jerked my gaze back to his and could just barely make out his eyes through his mask’s holes. They were crinkled in silentamusement.
“I’m checking to make sure your bandages haven’t leaked through to your shirt,” I saidstiffly.
“Uh-huh. We both know your ink didn’t draw enough blood for that,” he said, clearly trying to bait me. “You’re too good at what youdo.”
“Fine. I was checking you out,” I admitted, softened by the compliment. “You look pretty nice in asuit.”
“You look pretty nice all the time,” he shot back. “Especially naked on my couch. But tonight, in that—” He nodded at the white gown I wore. “You look like anangel.”
I snorted. “Are you trying to insultme?”
He blinked and then rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean a literal angel. Havenwood Falls has plenty of those. I meant... you look hot,” he finallyfinished.
I smiled behind my mask, glad he couldn’t see how stupidly large my grin was. “Thanks.”
On my right, someone cleared their throat, and I jumped, nearly dropping myarrow.
“Hello,” said a male voice, somewhat amused as I tried to breathe through the adrenaline pumping throughme.
“Hello,” I countereduncertainly.
I didn’t recognize the voice, which meant it wasn’t Walter—or anyone else I knew. Rhys and I had already discussed this. Our dark fae could still be running around as Walter—but probably not. In fact, chances were he’d already moved on to another glamoured disguise. Especially now that everyone knew Walter was supposed to be dead. He could literally be anyone. Which was exactly why we’d chosen Cupids & Cuties as our backdrop. If he was going to be anonymous, so were we. I just hoped between the masks that hid our faces and our freshly inked tattoos serving as weapons, it would beenough.
“I was just wondering if...” The mystery man beside me held up his arrow, pointing it awkwardly atme.
We both waited. Nothinghappened.
Finally, he sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot. Have a good night,” he said and wandered off, still clutching his unlitarrow.
I looked over at Rhys and found him watching our mystery man with narrowedeyes.
“What?” Iasked.
“He thought his arrow might light for you,” Rhys said in a strangevoice.
“Ridiculous.” Ihuffed.
“Are you referring to the arrow pointing toward true love or the idea that anyone could want you to be theirs?” Rhysasked.
“Take your pick,” Imuttered.
