Page 54 of Golden Queen
"Oh, fuck you, Io. It'smyskin. I'll do what I want with it."
Just then a man and woman sauntered up to us. The man reached out to remove an invisible piece of lint from Io's sleeve. I suddenly had the image in my mind of Io breaking his fingers for the gesture.
But the woman, wearing a golden fox mask, leaned toward me. She ran a hand down my arm. "Care for some extra players in your little game?" she asked.
"No," Io said sharply, sliding his hand up my arm to swat her off like you might a bothersome insect.
"Oh, so territorial," she crooned. She turned to the man at her side. "Darling, why don't you ever look like that when someone touches me?"
Io put his arm behind me and guided us away as the man laughed. "Because, my dear, I know how much it pleases you to have some strangers cock between your sharp little teeth. It is deep and abiding love, you see."
Their shared laughter died away behind us, drowned out by the music as we slid through the crowd.
A servant handed us glasses of sparkling wine. Io sniffed both before he would allow me to drink.
I drank mine greedily, my mouth dry and my mind more than a little in need of courage.
I expected him to lead me out of the party, so it surprised me when he steered me to a gold settee and took a seat at my side. He surveyed the crowds—for what or who, I wasn't certain. He'd barely explained it to me,and the questions I normally would have asked on the way had been swallowed up by my excitement at the prospect of coming.
I watched the dancers in front of us while that music seemed to make a beat in my chest right alongside my heart. It felt like it resounded off my very bones butting up against the anger that was still coursing through me.
I wanted to dance. I'd never done more than formal ballroom dancing, but as I listened to the drums, it made me want to move.
Many of the dancers were not even doing anything wicked. They were simply dancing—in a primal, sensual sort of way, of course—but with what looked like their friends.
My anger started to fade away as I continued watching. I glanced at Io, whose arm was draped behind me on the settee, still a bit possessively, but without touching me in any way.
His jaw beneath that glittering mask was tight, but I noticed the way his fingers behind my right shoulder tapped out the rhythm of the music almost absently.
The settee had been empty, but within a few minutes of sitting, like sharks who had sighted some prey, the people began to angle our way.
Most turned away after a growled word from Io, but the more persistent were given that dark look that sent them scurrying off.
When an entire group of them bounded out from the dance floor and plopped down on the settee beside us, a dark-haired woman all but fell into Io's lap.
At the same time, an unmasked young man that I faintly recognized, breathed a horrid breath of alcohol into my face. "Well, hello there, sweet bird," the man slurred, reaching out to flutter the feathers of my mask.
I heard Io's groan of displeasure at the same time I felt his arm slide down to lift me smoothly onto his lap. I barely had time to think as the dark-haired woman was forced back and Io slid me down to settle me between his knees. The familiar young man abruptly turned his attention to the woman on his other side.
Io leaned forward against my back, his lips next to my ear. "I'm sorry, Sera. They won't leave you alone if it does not look like you are thoroughly mine."
Thoroughly mine.I shivered.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I leaned back against him in answer. He seemed to relax then, leaning back as one arm encircled my waist, the other going back up to rest along the back of the settee.
It was just a show, I told myself. And it was important. He was looking for someone. Castille, or someone who knew him. Some answer to who was taking the Withian children.
It didn't necessarily feel like a show, though, as I lay against him, feeling his breaths lifting me, the heat of his body behind me.
I watched the dancers in front of us. Eyes had strayed to us from among them and from among the crowds gathered watching the dancing.
The eyes, my dress, the music, the dancing, his frustratingly still fingers along my waist, all seemed to coalesce into one intense urge to move.
I dared not, even as one of his fingers began to tap out the beat on my side.
He had wanted me before. I knew he had. He told me so. His desire for me had been clear in his eyes, just as it was in his words.If you want me as badly as I want you, he'd said.
