Page 17 of Seduced By Darkness
Too late, I realize there’s a tide of darkness swimming toward me. A wolf prowling through the dancers, forcing them to yield to him. He’s shockingly tall, clad in leather and black velvet. His short hair is the color of sable, his skin a healthy olive. Unlike the rest of the fae, there’s not a single glittering ring or bead upon him. Just cold, merciless black.
But there’s nothing cold about the look on his face. Nothing merciless about his expression. Only… intensity. Our gazes lock and it feels like time stands still.
The world vanishes.
The music fades.
It’s like we stepped sideways into another world where only the two of us exist. And maybe it’s true. Maybe the Veil thinned in this precise moment.
Is he an ancient god brought to life?
Did I conjure the Erlking with my thoughts?
No. No. If anything, this male is far too mortal to be the Erlking. There’s a vitality to the Erlking, all the stories say. But this male is… a little too coldly lethal. The music flows over him as if he doesn’t hear it. He radiates strength and determination, his focus locked entirely upon me. Or maybe that’s the mask that decorates his upper face.
A hawk.
A hawk that’s caught its prey.
My heart flutters in my chest. I can’t breathe.
I don’t even know why.
“Dance with me,” he says, offering his arm and finally smiling. If the Erlking does exist, then he sounds exactly like this: firm and commanding, the slightest hint of wickedness rolling through his words.
He’s much bigger than he seemed across the clearing. Broad shoulders. Hard muscle. All of it hidden beneath the refined cut of his doublet. Despite the lack of jewelry, I recognize good tailoring when I see it and this is exquisite. Every inch of his clothing caresses his body like a second skin. He oozes sophisticated elegance, but there’s a hint of danger smoldering just beneath the surface.
“Do I have a choice?” I can’t help being on the offensive; he’s just a little too overwhelming.
“You always have a choice.” Taking my hand he lifts it to his lips. “Me? Not so. Fate took me by the heart five centuries ago and tattooed you there on my soul.”
A nervous shiver runs through me as his lips brush against my knuckles.
I can feel his breath.
Feel the heat of him.
“Very practiced line,” I point out.
He laughs a little, almost at himself. “If only you knew the truth.”
“Iskvien?” The sound echoes across the clearing.
Etan’s finally found me and though dozens of dancers separate us, he’s visibly seething as he sees my hand clasped in this stranger’s grip.
Alarm kicks through me.
I have to go.
“Forgive me—"
My stranger catches a fistful of my skirt and I can almost see the unspoken command in his eyes.
Stay.
The word tremors through me, even as our eyes meet.
“Dance with me,” he repeats.
