Page 20 of The Coven of Ruin
“You’re glowing,” he remarked, “like starlight.”
She thought of the glitter upon her tanned skin and sent Lila a quiet thank you for her work. “It’s just glitter and magic,” she said aloud, nonchalantly.
His response was just a low hum of a sound.
Masterfully, he guided them around a pair of dancers that seemed more concerned with figuring out how to kiss with their masks on than dancing.
“You surprise me,” he mused as he spun her away from himself and brought her back in.
“Oh?” she breathed, and they both stepped all the way apart this time.
He walked around her slowly as she danced the solo, but she couldn’t help but feel as if he was a predator stalking its prey. A chill crept down her spine despite the heat from dancing, but the solo was her favorite part. It allowed her to move her hips sultrily and get lost entirely in the resonant notes.
Despite the distinct feeling of being hunted, there was a power in knowing she had his full attention. She could feel the stranger’s eyes marking her every move, every sway of her hips, every place her hand touched her own body. That power made her magic sing.
As they came together again, his large hand at the small of her back pulled her closer than before. As her palm shifted in his, she felt the callouses that indicated he probably worked with weapons or tools all day.
“You said I surprised you?” she asked finally, only a bit breathless, wondering what he meant by it. Surely, he didn’t recognize her.
“Yes.” He twirled her so that her back was to his front as the song’s last notes echoed in the ballroom. “I didn’t know you could be so elegant,” he whispered in her ear. His voice was all thunder and silk.
Sheknewthat voice.
It was like he had muttered a spell of awakening to her. No magic charm over the dance hall could keep her from knowing. She gasped, spinning around only to be met by those extraordinary dark golden eyes glimmering behind his mask.
He pulled her in, smirking, as a slow song began.
“Witch,” he said in true greeting.
Chapter X
Tristahadthoughtaboutdifferent scenarios where she met Ares again. However, her imagination could have never predicted him at a masquerade ball in a fitted silk tunic and trousers, dancing. She wasn’t sure how she had missed his eyes before. Gold like darkened palaces that shimmered in failing light. Gilded chambers full of fireplaces with dying embers. Like battle-hardened armor and ancient coins. She’d never forget those eyes.
“I can only imagine you’re speechless due to my impeccable dance skill.”
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked in a frantic whisper. Her gaze traveled around the dance hall. Though it seemed like all the air had been sucked out of the room, everyone else still moved and conversed as if nothing was wrong.
As if The God of War wasn’t among them.
A thoughtful frown tugged a corner of his mouth down. “Dancing,” he responded with a bored evenness.
“And how’d you find me?” Thoughts raced through her mind, fragmented and frenzied. Had he gone to the Akeso first? Had he… If he hurt anyone there, if he had come to make good on the life debt…
As the god stepped away, he also pulled her thoughts from her. Placing his palm to her palm in very much the same manner they did to seal their bargain all those months ago, he gave her an expectant look.
“My lady,” he started, a twinge of mocking properness in his tone, “you are supposed to turn like so.” He demonstrated, turning his body so that their forearms pressed together.
Trista mirrored him numbly, taking the steps in time with the music. Four steps, turn, four steps, turn. Her mind found temporary solace in the movements rather than focusing on the fact that Ares was in Witch Country.
Stepping into her again, he placed her hand to rest on his chest and held the other in a firm grasp as if he knew she wanted to pull away. She met his stare, the mask giving him a preternatural appearance.
Stories of the Cursebringer told to witchlings as cautionary tales surfaced. He could change form. Move between realms using death as his guide. A hunter with armor made of bone, a bloodthirsty creature from depths farther and darker than the Underworld. Not even the gods could contain him.
“How did you find me?” she asked again, her words blazing with need.
She misstepped, but he smoothly turned her mistake into a slow dip. His full lips formed a cold smile. And she knew, right then, that she was in danger.
“Witch, I’d be able to find you anywhere.”
