Page 63 of An Assassin's Death
This party is more posh than I could have imagined, and even though I’m all dolled up, I don’t feel like I belong. I don’t seem to belong anywhere.
Without words, Mouse moves a hand under my chin, tilting my face upward.
“Relax,” he whispers. I breathe once more.
Mason wears his tux perfectly; the cut black lines perfectly tailored in perfect black and white. With my black mask and white dress, we look like quite the couple.
We went over the details a hundred times but I never could have imagined all of this. Crystal flutes filled with champagne sparkle in the candlelight. The golden lighting casts the painted windows into pretty colors along the glossy floor.
I feel like a princess. A princess with an assassin’s blade beneath her billowing gown but a princess all the same.
The sweeping movements of the dance allow me a reason to scan the room, and I realize the brilliance of Mouse’s plan to get me on the dance floor.
The altar is still suspiciously empty and I wonder when Armond is going to make his appearance. He won’t let it go unnoticed. That much I know.
The room has a tense air about it, but what else would we expect from a group of socially awkward, deadly assassins? Whoever came up with the idea to put us all in one room is a disturbed human being. But aren’t we all?
Mase and me flow seamlessly around the room, every step in unison like we were made to be together. With ease, he leads me through smooth, well thought out steps.
As he angles my body in different directions, he schools me on the layout once more. “The exits.” I glance over his tall shoulders at the doors around the room he points out. “Listen,” he starts, “I know we have you here for a reason, but don’t take any stupid risks.”
I nearly snort. “This whole thing seems like a stupid risk to me, Mase.” I don’t elaborate. Who knows who’s listening or exactly what kind of powers swirl through this room right now. All I know is that the air is super charged, nearly crawling with energy. It prickles against my skin.
“Ty knows what he’s doing. So do you.”
The fact that he lumps me in with his fearless leader lightens my heart and reminds me that I’m a damn good assassin. For better or worse.
“Where are the other three musketeers, anyway?” The large room is filled with people, and I don’t see them. I know they won’t be seen if they don’t want to be, but it’s equally likely that they’re not here. The plan was for one of them to be my backup. I’m happy to have Mase here. Still, my heart sinks at the thought that Jameson and Tylin don’t care enough to be here like he does. The more sane, logical part of my brain is happy they aren’t. Everything about this event has me on edge. I’d rather they all stay safe. Even Rory. I’ve made peace with being the sacrificial lamb.
He leans in. “They’re close enough.”
It’s more than I should have hoped for. With one sharp nod, I turn away. I can’t chance losing myself to thoughts of them when I need to be hyper focused on the room beyond.
I need to be on the lookout for Armond. I need to be on the lookout for this Derek Stallis.
“Where’s Armond?” I ask. If anyone can track him, it’s Mouse. He spins me elegantly and I give myself mental kudos for my perfect follow-through.
Closing his eyes, I notice the blue glow that radiates from behind his lids. When he opens them again the neon blue swirls in their brown depths, the remnants of his power fizzling out slowly. My lips part as I watch his beautiful eyes.
“He’s here. Within the building.” He says it quietly, his eyes flicking to a side door near the stage at the front of the sanctuary.
“And the higher up?” I ask, not daring to speak the other man’s name aloud for the listening ears and sizzling powers in the vicinity.
Shadows cover Mason’s face. “I can’t get a read on him.”
I gape. What does that even mean? I thought Mase could track anyone. Offering a little nod, I squeeze his arm reassuringly, happy when he relaxes and the darkness lifts. I file the information away to ask Mason after this wretched event is over.
I swallow. The last few weeks all led to this moment. Suddenly, it’s not failing that I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of letting Tylin, Mason, Jameson, and Rory down. I might just be an asset—their secret, disposable weapon—but they’ve become more to me. Even Rory.
“Time’s up.” Mouse murmurs as the song draws to a close. His mouth hovers teasingly above mine as he skims his nose down mine tenderly, touching his forehead to mine before he pulls away. I’m not ready to leave his arms, but I don’t protest. This isn’t prom. I’m not really here to dance, or fall in love, or live happily ever after.
Leading me from the floor, Mason pulls my hand to his lips, kissing first the back of my hand and then bringing my fingertips to his mouth. With a gentle, sexy kiss to the tips of my fingertips, he lets his eyes drink me in for one last moment before he drops my hand. With a glance over my shoulder, he steps backward before turning and disappearing just as quietly and quickly as he appeared.
I watch him go, my heart pounding. I can hear each inhale of breath I take. Applause breaks through my distraction, bringing me back to the present and announcing the start of this shit show.
Somehow, I feel Armond’s power before I even see him. My body reacts as though greeting an old friend, and my stomach twists as I remember how vile his life essence had felt flowing through my veins.
I straighten my posture, jut my chin up another inch, and turn around.
