Page 119 of Nightbane
“Would you dance with me?”
The crowd behind the man shifted, and Isla saw Grim clearly, sitting back on his throne. His gaze was set on her, expression fuming. His eyes narrowed, as if daring her, justdaring herto say yes.
She smiled. “I would love to,” she said, watching as Grim’s grip on his throne tightened.
The dance started off innocently enough. The man stood a respectable distance away and led her through a series of moves that corresponded with the quickening beat of the drums. Then the Nightshade offered her a drink, and she swallowed it down in a single gulp, hoping it would give her the nerve to have the night of her life while she still could. Within moments, she felt light as a feather, and the beat of the music seemed to be synchronized to the beat of her heart, both quickening.
Keeping her eyes right on the Nightshade ruler, she stood in front of the man and danced. Grim’s knuckles became skeletal white as he gripped the sides of his throne.
He watched her like he could see right through her, like he was a moment away from turning the entire crowd of people before her to ash.
Still, he did not move to stop her. When the man asked her if she wanted to go into the hall—and Isla had seenexactlywhat happened there—she said yes and let him lead her there.
Isla expected Grim to follow, but he did not. Just a few steps out of the ballroom, she shifted her focus to the man leading her away.
She decided she was going to kiss him. Grim was the only person she had kissed before. Every time she was near him, she felt covered in sparks. Even when they were apart, she felt somewhat empty, like he had taken a part of her with him.
Maybe that was what it was like with every man. Maybe she would kiss this one and see that it felt the same. Better, even.
It would be a relief. Grim was her enemy. Sheshouldn’t—couldn’t—be attracted to him.
They found an empty corridor, and the man didn’t waste any time. He pressed her against the wall, and his mouth went straight to hers.
Nothing. Her skin didn’t prickle. She didn’t feel heat traveling through her core. He tasted of smoke and alcohol, so she turned her head, not wanting to taste him anymore. He took that as an invitation to continue a path down her neck.
Maybe she just needed to get used to him. She stood still as he explored her, hoping a connection would click.
It wasn’t like with Grim at all. The man palmed her chest in a way that should have made her groan. She felt nothing.
His hand started making its way down her stomach, and she watched it, knowing she could stop it but wondering how it might feel. He was so close. Maybe, if he touched her there—
Just as he reached the bottom of her stomach, he froze. He did not blink. His shoulders were hiked up in shock.
That was when they both looked down to see a sword sticking straight through his chest, its tip an inch from her own. The blade was quickly removed, and the man crumpled to the ground, revealing Grim, standing right in front of her.
“Don’t worry, Hearteater. He’s not dead. I will make sure of it,” Grim said in response to her expression of horror. He leaned down to whisper, very slowly, “Because I’m going to bring him to the brink of death a thousand times before I will finally allow him the mercy of dying.”
Isla stared at him in shock. “Because ... he kissed me?” she asked, chest still heaving.
Anger flashed in his eyes, then disappeared. “No, Hearteater,” he said. “Because he poisoned you.”
She shook her head. “What?”
“The drink he gave you. A few minutes more and you would find yourself paralyzed, a motionless vessel for his pleasure.”
Even as he said the words, Isla felt her muscles tightening, like every part of her was hardening into bone.
“How do you know?”
“I didn’t until you were leaving. Your face and chest are flushed scarlet. It’s a sign.” He tilted his head at her. “You feel it, don’t you?” he said. He offered her a small vial. An antidote? She swallowed it down. “Better?”
Better. The tightening loosened.
All softness left his expression. He looked down at her, at every inch of her dress, the fabric wrinkled in the places that had been gripped by the man now gurgling on his own blood at her feet.
“Hearteater,” Grim said, voice mocking, “who knew you were so desperate for pleasure?” She glared at him, and he only grinned. “If you wanted someone to bed you so badly, all you had to do was ask.”
She took a shaking breath. “I would rather die than have you touch me, demon,” she said.
