Page 24 of Soulbound
Cleo's eyes narrowed, as she stared down at Malachi Gray's gently tugging fingers as he sought to draw her further into the crowd. Her heart yearned for Sebastian, as did her body, but she couldn't deny the treacherous little voice that whispered in the back of her mind: Sebastian had never asked her to dance.
Never flirted.
Never tried to kiss her, beyond that one disastrous time she'd tried to press her affections upon him.
She was a wife in name only.
A young woman who'd been locked away at her father's estate for far too long, her only introductions to other people being the strictly controlled meetings her father had forced upon her, where she was to supply Visions for a price.
He’s dangerous..., Remington's voice whispered in her memories.
But they needed the Wand from him, and despite his intoxicating influence, she was certain she could handle him.
All she had to do was keep her head.
"I will grant you a dance. And if you're competent as a partner, then I might present you with my name when we finish."
"An excellent bargain." That thumb stroked across the fleshy pad of her palm. "Though I'm rather more inclined to win it."
Cleo smiled. She felt a little more clearheaded now. The press of his magic whispered against her skin, but she no longer invited it in.
Music swelled, as if at his silent command. Cleo hesitantly rested a hand on his shoulder, glancing up. "I'm told you host frequent parties, Mr. Gray."
"Please, call me Malachi."
"That wouldn't be proper."
His smiled flashed again. "What a terrible shame such impropriety would be. Imagine what my poor scandalized guests would think."
Another flare of fire belched into the air nearby, and a woman laughed raucously as a man swung her into the sky. "You have a point... Malachi."
To be in his arms was like floating on a cloud. The man danced divinely, and it felt as though she barely had to move, and he was twirling her. He kept the distance between them proper, but every touch of his gloved hands made her flush, and every heated look he sent her told a thousand naughty stories.
And yet... it felt wrong.
Almost like she'd had too much champagne, and her senses were dulled. Lust hung like a cloud in the air, like the sweet-smelling smoke of a hookah. She was drowning in the drugging kiss of it, and yet it felt vaguely distant.
It was nothing like the moment when her husband had unlaced her wedding gown for her. There'd been anticipation then, desire, nervousness, and a desperate sort of longing. This was merely skin deep.
Shallow. It could not penetrate her heart.
"I don't recall inviting you," he whispered, his breath caressing her bare neck as he turned her in his arms. "Or your friends."
Cleo twirled under his arm as he spun her, again and again, until she felt dizzy and breathless, and flushed with a heat that made her feel distinctly boneless. "Do you invite all of your guests personally?"
His smile seemed perfectly edged, as if it were merely a mask, and she realized he was watching her a little too closely. His game of seduction was precisely that. A game. And one he played with a certain sort of detachment.
"You're bored," she said, and wasn't certain if Premonition urged her to say it, or mere whim. "Bored of all the parties and the games. They satisfy some part of you, but they don't quite offer true fulfillment."
His green eyes sharpened. "What is true fulfillment?"
"Connection," she whispered. "One soul finding another in the dark, and realizing it's the other half of theirs."
"And have you found your other half?" he snapped, slowing just enough that another pair of dancers staggered into them.
A fierce glare cleared the space around them. The shiver of lust on her skin felt like it was evaporating.
"I'd hoped I had."
