Page 13 of The Devil In Blue
“You feel fear and your first instinct is to make eye contact with it?”
“Fear, my lord, has been my most constant company since I can remember.” I unconsciously rested my head back against the man’s firm chest. “When I can feel nothing else, fear is there to remind me I am still breathing. There have been times I thought I was incapable of feeling anything at all, but that dread always finds its way back to me.”
“It makes you feel alive.”
“It does. It reminds me Iwantto be alive. For fleeting moments, at least. It suppose it’s a bit thrilling.”
His hands reached around to the front of me where I could see his gloved fingers uncoil a piece of jewelry. My eyes dropped to the pendant dangling on the ice-silver chain. Gems encased in molded metal the shape of a moth with a skull in the middle reflected the light in a rainbow of hues, taking my breath away.
The stranger first used one hand to unclasp the diamond necklace, letting it fall down my front into his waiting palm. Then he brought the new necklace up over my chest. It carried the warmth of his hands and as he clasped the chain around the back of my bare neck, my heart sighed with pleasure. Relief. Excitement. A million things ignited inside of me and as I reached up to touch the pendant hanging just below my throat with my fingertips, I remembered the emotions I’d felt in the dress shop when I found the necklace in the first place. It was the same way I was feeling now.
Slowly, I turned to face the man, forgetting the steps of the dance entirely. He was so close. I could smell the cloves and leather on him wafting toward me with his intoxicating heat. Even when I could not see his face, I could feel him and his presence rippling through the air around us. My fingers still clutched the pendant and, like a hawk watching a fish swim circles in a pond, he stared down at me with a hunger I should have feared.
And maybe part of me did fear it. But a bigger part of me believed he was a key to a lock that had kept me prisoner for so long. There were hooks in me. Gleaming, polished hooks that had pierced right through and were pulling me in. And this masked man was the lure. His coat seemed iridescent as he walked in a slow, calculated circle around me so his shadowed eyes could soak me in.
“You were in the market,” I said, recalling the figure outside the window.
“I am everywhere, Briar. But the only place that matters right now is here.”
I had not told him my name…
When he circled to my back where I could not see him again, I noticed the song in the ballroom had changed. String instruments took on a new melody that sang through the whole building like a choir of sirens. The stranger’s hand snaked around my waist, his palm pressing against my stomach once more to pull my back against his chest. His other hand wrapped around mine, pulling it to the side as we began to sway to the music.
I knew all of the dances. Lucien made sure of it. But I didn’t know this one. Still, he led me so perfectly that my feet never missed a step and our movements fell in line with the melody like the dance and song were one and the same.
When at last the stranger spun me around to face him, our bodies fit together like two links in a broken chain. With one hand in his and my other resting on his shoulder, we twirled, filling the space with our waltz like we were the only two there. The wind from the open doorways kissed my bare shoulders and neck and still, my skin was hot. My heart was racing. I could sense every bit of the stranger from his scent to the calm thud of his heart to every little twitch of his muscles under his clothes as we moved.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“Everything you’ll ever need. Everything you’ll ever want, hate, and love.” He leaned in close, his breath caressing the shell of my ear. “I am your madness as much as you are mine. And you know it all too well.”
The music changed again, becoming slow and quiet like a whisper of what it had been all night. Someone near the stage where all of the musicians were arranged raised a glass with the reddest wine nearly overflowing from the rim. The woman with the straight, inky hair. When she stepped up, she lifted her skull mask up over her head, managing not to disturb a single strand of hair as she revealed her eerily beautiful face. High cheekbones sharper than blades held up large, almond-shaped eyes. Thin and elegant lips had a perfect, graceful curve to them and were painted such a dark shade of red they were almost black.
The stranger and I stopped and turned our attention to the woman. Oddly, he did not release my hand. I took a quick glance around the room in search of Lucien’s tailcoat but saw no sign of him.
If he were there, the sight of the man with the elk skull mask holding my hand would unravel him.
“Lords and ladies of Cragborough,” the woman spoke, her voice just as flawless as I imagined it would be. “I hope you are all having the most wonderful time on this Allhalloween night. Now, it is nearly midnight and we have more to give during this memorable time. But first, I am certain you’re all eager to meet the count himself. The one responsible for this lavish and darkly entertaining event.”
There was seductiveness to her tone that made everyone in the room go still as stone. Not one person could take their eyes off of her while she slowly paced from one side of the dais to the other on feet so nimble it was like she was floating.
“May I present,” the woman continued, raising her glass. “Count Gaelin Mortis.”
The stranger stepped away from me and I turned with a start. He lifted my hand as he moved back, inclining his head before he began to glide through the crowd toward the dais.
My heart stopped. The woman’s lips curved into a smirk as she gave the man a shallow curtsy. The whole room filled with applause as the count greeted his guests.
“I would like to formally thank all of you for coming at my invitation,” he said, standing tall and proper. “To not know who I am and still attend a masquerade in the catacombs on the most mischievous night of the year takes great courage.”
I felt like cold fingers were tracing the bare length of my back.
“But this night is far from over,” he continued, capturing my gaze. “Midnight has struck. The moon is full.” He paused, taking a glass filled with wine from Naeve as she slid up beside him. “Now, do tell me. What do you all think of my precious wine?”
The crowds began to hum and nod approval to each other. Those with glasses in their hands took a sip and raised their glasses with appreciation. I looked around at all of them, a bit envious that they could enjoy the elegant drink.
“Good,” the count said. “Please, if you have not had any, I insist you have some now. It is my family’s pride. You’ll taste nothing like it no matter how far you travel.”
I watched Lura weave through the crowds, refilling people’s cups with a stylish silver pitcher filled with the rich-smelling drink. When she came to me and noticed I was without a glass, instead of offering one, she simply let her eyes roam my body and smiled crookedly before moving on.
