Page 35 of Veil of Obsession
I chuckle, the sound vibrating in my chest. “Figured.”
I pluck the cigarette from her fingers, bringing it back to my lips, taking a slow, deep inhale. I watch her the whole time—theway her eyes track every movement, the way her breath is just a little too shallow now. Then, before she can react, I exhale a deliberate stream of smoke, letting it curl between us, letting it claim the space around her.
She freezes. Her lips part slightly, instinctively, and she inhales—me, the smoke, the scent of tobacco and whiskey, and something else neither of us can name yet.
She doesn’t cough this time. She doesn’t step back. She doesn’t look away. I feel something shift in the air, something sharp and electric.
Her lips glisten, barely parted, and I track the movement without thinking, without meaning to. Something tightens in my chest, something I don’t fucking like. She’s too close. But not close enough at the same damn time.
My gaze dips, lingering on the curve of her throat, the delicate shape of her collarbone disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress. She’s built like something meant to be worshipped, but there’s something dark under her skin, something feral that she’s trying too hard to keep hidden.
I want to tear it out of her. I want to see what she really looks like when she loses control.
My lips curl slightly. Amused. Intrigued.Possessive.
“What’s your name?”
She wets her lips—a small movement, intentional. My gaze flicks to it, to the way the dim lighting catches the soft sheen there. She knows what she’s doing. And fuck if I don’t like it.
“Princess,” she answers, smooth and effortless.
A slow exhale leaves my lungs.
Princess. The name shouldn’t suit her. But it fits. Too well.
I narrow my eyes, studying her, weighing the way the word tastes on my tongue. Testing it. Testing her.
“Fitting,” I murmur, rolling the cigarette between my fingers, already knowing…
She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
There’s some movement below, and my gaze flicks down to see Dana, my date. Standing next to James Sterling. I don’t look for too long, I already know what she’s doing.
Princess is staring down at them with shock and confusion etched into her features. The weight of her presence clings to me, wrapping itself around my spine, tugging, demanding my attention.
Not Dana. Not the scene unfolding below.
Her.
I should be watching Dana make a fool of herself, should be paying attention to the way she drapes herself over James Sterling, her fingers pressing into his chest, her lips dangerously close to his.
I don’t. Instead, I watch Princess watch me. She stands there, poised against the stone railing, her expression unreadable, but her presence palpable. She isn’t affected by the cold, isn’t distracted by the music drifting from the ballroom. Isn’t paying attention to anything but me.
She sees everything. The way my jaw tightens, the way my fingers flex around my cigarette, the way my body registers Dana’s betrayal and immediately discards it as insignificant.
I wonder what she expects. Anger? Possessiveness? Amusement?
I give her nothing. Just take a slow drag from my cigarette, letting the moment stretch, exhaling through my nose before muttering, “Huh.”
Princess shifts slightly, watching me closely. “That’s all you have to say?”
I flick the cigarette between my fingers, eyes still locked on hers. She wants a reaction. She won’t get one.
I take another pull, exhaling slower this time, letting the smoke curl into the cold air. “It’s not unexpected.”
She studies me like she’s trying to find a crack, some tell, some indication that I care. She won’t find one.
“She’s not yours, then,” she muses, voice smooth but laced with something sharp.
