Page 42 of Spark of Sorcery
Somehow I don’t doubt it. “That wasn’t what I was–”
“Fuck! That reminds me!
He steps to the side and slams his fist against the array of golden buttons. The elevator comes to a juddering halt, jolting me forward and into his waiting arms.
“I got something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. “To match your eyes.”
“I’m not wearing a col–” I begin.
“Relax, Kitten.”
He opens his fist and a delicate golden chain falls through the air and catches. At the end is a bright green gem the shape of a teardrop and the size of a galleon. It bounces on the end of the chain.
“I figured you’d need something pretty to wear.” I watch mesmerized as it swings from side to side, wondering if it possesses magical, or maybe even hypnotic, properties.
He snaps open the clasp and then he reaches around my throat and fastens it at the back of my neck.
“W-w-where did you get it?” I ask, trying to keep a hold of my thoughts as he slides his hands under my loose hair, his fingers warm on the back of my neck, and frees my locks from the chain, letting the cool necklace settle against my skin.
“My mom,” he answers, his gaze fixed on the crystal that now hangs against my chest.
“Your mom let you give this to me?” I say, surprised. Does that mean his mom knows about me? Does that mean she approves? I can’t see that she would. A girl from Slate.
Dray strokes his fingers over my shoulder, along my clavicle and positions the crystal at the apex of my cleavage.
“Not exactly,” he says, his eyes flashing darker. He sweeps his fingers along the soft skin of my chest.
“Huh?” I say, finding it even harder to focus on our conversation and not the feel of his fingers, of his magic, against my flesh, warming my skin, making it tingle withawareness, my body turning to liquid. I’m surprised I’m not a puddle on the floor.
“I wanted it for you,” he growls, leaning down to nuzzle at my throat, “so I took it.”
My eyes start to drift shut and I’ve definitely lost all track of his words. But then, without warning, the lift creaks and shoots upward again.
Not that it deters Dray, he’s still scraping his teeth up and down my throat, inhaling my scent, as the elevator rises quickly – I can hear the passing floors rushing past us – and then it slows and comes to a halt, the doors drawing open and two large shadow weavers waiting right there, the party in full flow behind them.
Beaufort and Thorne.
Like Dray, they are dressed up tonight in expensive-looking suits. Beaufort’s a midnight blue that makes his silver eyes all the more dazzling and Thorne a jet black. Beaufort has tied his hair back showing off his chiseled features and Thorne’s gaze seems even more penetrating than usual.
If they chose to seduce me tonight, I think I’d need super powers in order to resist.
“Dray,” Beaufort growls, and with a petulant groan, the shifter lifts his mouth from my throat and turns to face his friends. “Where the hell have you been?” Beaufort says.
“I got distracted,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and then stepping aside so the other two see me properly for the first time.
“Fuuuuck,” Beaufort says, his eyes swimming all over me. “You look so damn beautiful, Briony.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” I mutter, because I don’t exactly know what else to say. I’m not usedto people offering me compliments. Especially about the way I look.
“I’m not,” he says, meeting my eyes. “I saw it from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
That sounds like bullshit to me. I had a black and swollen eye and had just spent eight hours on a train.
Although I do remember how good he looked, even in the half-dust, even in the darkness.
Thorne doesn’t say a thing, just stares at me unblinking. I can’t tell if, like the others, he thinks I look great, or he disapproves.
“Come on,” Dray says, hand on the small of my back, guiding me out of the elevator.
