Page 72 of Realm of Nightmares
Her cheeks heated. She ignored the acclamation, instead focusing on Rowan, who was watching her with one brow arched and his signature smirk.
“You’re an incredible dancer.”
Maeve’s lips curved only slightly. Hesitant. “I was taught at an early age.”
The memory was distant, caught somewhere between the fog of her past and the trauma of everything else she’d been forced to endure.It left her unsettled.
But before she could dwell on it, Rowan’s gaze snagged on something behind her.
“Brace yourself,” he murmured.
Puzzled, Maeve frowned, then turned, quickly realizing why he’d given her a warning. Aed strode toward them with Laurel on his arm. They approached and she steeled her spine, locking her will into place.
“You two make quite the pair,” Aed mused, the silver in his eyes darkening when he looked at Rowan. “You cleared the entire floor.”
“Maeve is an exceptional dancer.” Rowan inclined his head. “I was merely her pawn.”
Another unwanted blush crept up her neck. “You’re rather good at leading,” she offered softly.
Rowan’s smile widened and Laurel groaned. Maeve dismissed the disgruntled fae.
“Why are you wearing a collar?” Laurel asked, her velvety voice dripping with disgust.
“Excuse me?” Maeve snapped, glaring at her.
Laurel curled one finger around the leather necklace Rowan had given her, giving it a light tug. “You’re wearing adogcollar.”
“It was a gift.” Degradation sank its claws deep inside of her, the burn of it far worse than any other insult. “I thought…”
She turned to Rowan, and he shoved his hands behind his back, a faint pink tinge coloring his cheeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her whisper was harsh. Pained.
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
Laurel snickered. “Too late for that.”
“Gods, Rowan.” Maeve pressed her gloved fingers to her forehead in a poor attempt to disguise her mortification. She was an absolute fool. Yes, thecollarhad been a gift. But it was for Cahira, not her. If she was smart, she’d excuse herself from the celebration and retire to her room early. At least there she could suffer her humiliation alone.
“Maeve.” The smooth voice drew her from her thoughts, and she looked up. Aed was staring down at her. “Might I have this next dance?”
Rowan stepped back, and Laurel looked as though she’d swallowed something incredibly foul.
Rolling her shoulders back, she obliged the god of death. “Of course.”
He offered his hand and she readily accepted, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor once more. This time, no one else joined them. But every soul in the room stared as they stopped in the center of the ballroom. A hush fell over the crowd, smothering all sound.
“Can you waltz?” he asked casually, the way one might ask how they took their coffee.
Maeve lifted her chin. “Of course.”
“Wonderful,” Aed crooned.
Music hummed, vibrating around them. The five-string quartet brought their instruments to life, filling the air with the methodical, titillating tune of a waltz. Aed took her hand in his, while his other slid around her waist. She gathered up the long length of her gown with her free hand, then looked into the silver of his eyes, the magic flaring there.
She waited.
One measured beat. Then two. Then he swept her away.
