Page 63 of Thief of Souls
I’ve heard talk that some of Malechus’s wildest debaucheries are filled with little bowls of the stuff, and small straws through which to imbibe.
No. No, no, no, no….
I have to get out of here.
I shove my way through the gathering.
Slamming into the hard planes of someone’s chest, I fight to trap the gasp that echoes in my throat. “Sorry—”
Malechus.
Hard, lean, staring down at me with predatory intent.
“I’d like a word with you,” he says with a chilling smile. “Dance with me.”
“I’m afraid I have to—” There are hands on my wrists. Hands that shackle and bind. Hands that make me wilt into his touch.
“This way,” Malechus says, leading me toward the balcony.
Every instinct inside me starts screaming, but my feet, treacherous beasts that they are, carry me after him.
* * *
“Would you care for a drink?”Malechus asks, snapping his fingers to one of the servants as he pushes me—none-too-gently—onto the balcony.
The ballroom beckons through the gauzy curtains. The music seems discordantly jarring, until I want to scratch my nails down my forearms. There’s sweat down my spine. Under my nose. If I grind my teeth together hard enough, maybe the feeling won’t overwhelm me?
“No.” I need to get out of here, before the rapture has me at its mercy.
Malechus takes a bottle of elderberry wine and pours us both a goblet, regardless of what I said. “Relax,” he purrs. “I have a good friend taking care of your handsome prince. We won’t be caught.”
“Caught?”Caught doing what?
He offers me the goblet. My choice is either to take it, or dare risk having him touch me.
Instantly, my mind throws half a dozen sensations into view. Malechus’s hands gripping my wrists. His teeth on my throat. His tongue on my skin….
I’m heating up.
How long does it take for this drug to fully take hold?
“Thank you.” I grab the goblet and retreat to the far end of the balcony.
“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, his blue eyes alight with heat as he stalks after me. “Or it could be….”
“Could be?” It’s too hard to focus on my words. All I can do is repeat his.
“Merisel, was it?” His eyes seem amused, and I cannot, for the life of me, work out why.
“Yes.” I half-snort a mouthful of wine in my eagerness to distract myself.
He rests one hand on the railing beside my hip, and every inch of me tenses. “I always wonder what sort of secrets a woman hides.” He breathes the words, trailing his fingertips barely a quarter inch from my body as he follows the contours of my gown. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
And then his finger comes to rest between my breasts.
Heat ripples out from his touch in concentric circles. I bite back on a moan as the prince leans closer.
“Ah, there you are. Such pale, pale skin you have….” His smile turns vicious. “I wonder whether Keir has any idea what a delightful gift he has to unwrap….”
