Page 56 of Hunt the Dusk
He left the room, closing the door softly behind him, and I sagged onto the bed, hand on my racing heart.
He disgusted me. I hated him. But I wanted him, and that conundrum would have to be a tomorrow problem.
I’d seenEzekiel dressed in old-fashioned formal wear before, so I didn’t expect to be affected by how dashing he looked. His dark hair gleamed in the candlelight, artfully tousled and falling across his forehead, making him look like a debonair rascal, and the deep-navy waistcoat and crimson cravat put a little color in his alabaster cheeks.
How easily he slipped into the noble façade, but the burnished gold of his irises warned of the predator lurkingwithin. Reminding me of his hunger, so when they flared at the sight of me in my dress that, in my opinion, emphasized the decolletage a little too much, it was easy to tell myself he craved my blood and nothing more. I was a particularly tasty vintage, that’s all.
But what was my excuse for drinking him in?
Random thoughts scrolled through my mind as he led me through the maze of corridors toward the dining hall. I should have brought my sword. Should have insisted on it. But Ezekiel had been firm on the no weapons at the table rule.
Never mind the fact that they’d all have their fangs with them.
I’m sure I’d find something to stab with if needed, though. There’d be cutlery available.
“Relax, little Silver.” Ezekiel patted my hand, and I realized I was gripping his arm a little tightly. “You’re safe with me. My scent is on you and will mask the delicious aroma of your blood.”
Wait, was that why he’d touched me up earlier? “It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“No one here would dare attack me,” Ezekiel said. “Blood oaths prevent them from doing so, which is why whoever is trying to subdue me is using hired hands. And hired hands, if found, can be bargained with and bought out.”
The corridor opened onto a gray stone chamber with wooden benches against the walls and a vaulted arch on the other side. The sound of conversation and the aroma of food drifted out to greet us.
“Deep breath, Miss Lighthart,” Ezekiel said, his gaze dropping to my bosom. “But maybe not too deep.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled softly as he swept me into a magnificent dining room.
The high ceiling and vaulted windows created an illusion of space. Huge paintings set in ornate frames decorated the walls, and twin chandeliers hosting real candles hung from the beams above.
The table in the center of the room could seat at least thirty, but there were only eight people at it. I recognized Lady Sangera of House of Blessed and her son Albert, Christian Constrange from the House of Spirit, and Laudon Umbren, Ezekiel’s close friend and head of the House of Shadows. But the other four were unfamiliar to me. There was at least one empty seat between each person.
Obviously a deliberate seating plan.
They stood to greet Ezekiel and bowed their heads in deference as Banbury appeared out of the shadows to lead us to the head of the table. He pulled out Ezekiel’s chair for him, but instead of sitting down, Ezekiel stepped around the table to draw out a seat for me.
Right next to him.
My surprise must have shown on my face because his eyebrow flicked up slightly as if to say, ‘I can be a gentleman when I choose to be.’ I graciously bowed my head and took my spot.
“Miss Lighthart,” Ezekiel said. “Allow me to introduce you to our dinner companions. You’ve met Lady Sangera and her son Albert.” They dropped me a nod, which I returned. “Lord Constrange and Lord Black.” We did the polite nod thing. “They run the houses in Old Town, but we also have the dukes and duchesses of the outer territories with us tonight. Duke Lotheram and Duchess Grace govern Drakenore and Rotheram beyond the mountains.” The duke and duchess with their golden hair and high cheekbones looked like siblings with twin closed-lipped smiles that didn’t reach their piercing blue eyes. “And atthe end of the table, we have Duke Darage, who governs several boroughs in New Town.”
Darage’s smile was sharkish and made my skin crawl. He was a stocky male, broad-shouldered with dark close-cropped hair and silver penny eyes that glinted dully in the lamp light. He gave me the creeps.
“I didn’t realize the Order made watchers in such pretty skin,” he said.
Yep, the guy was a creep. “You make it sound as if we come off a production line.”
“And it seems as if you lack the sense to simply accept a compliment.”
“Or maybe you lack the skill of offering a compliment.”
Darage bristled, about to retort, but Laudon cut in, loudly clearing his throat and clinking his glass with a spoon. “I’d like to make a toast to our liege, our king, Ezekiel. Long may he reign.”
“Long may he reign,” everyone echoed. Everyone except Darage.
I’d have to keep my eye on him.
