Page 47 of Insurrection
His eyes flashed orange for a moment as he played with his cufflinks nervously before responding, “I’d be honored.” My hand was still outstretched for him to take, but he was glancing at it nervously, so I retracted it, feeling confused. We’d have to touch to dance. Why would he say yes to my offer if he was afraid to touch even my hand?
As my hand began to drop, his shot out to catch it, and he moved closer until we were separated by only a few inches. "I'm sorry. I've just never felt such an intense desire from my Hellhound before, and I worry about him taking over when I'm with you."
I admittedly didn't know much about how the Hellhounds’ shifts worked. Curious, I asked, "Is he a separate entity from you?"
He rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he answered, "Yes. My emotions are heightened by his, but we do often have distinctly different impulses on how to handle situations."
Intrigued by this, I inquired, "Like when? I don’t know much about Hellhounds…but I would like to know more about you, Damien.” Was that clear enough? I felt like I was being pretty damn clear.
His free hand rose up to tug on the tight collar of the dress shirt under his jacket as he winced. "Like right now. He wants to mark you, and I'm really fighting the urge to do that, as it would be completely indecent, and you are clearly with Finias."
Oh. Wow.
Genuine butterflies erupted in my stomach at his gentle, polite, yet honest answer. His answer didn't scare me away like I think he thought it might, based upon the wince and trepidation with which he had said it.
Tugging on his hand, I began to walk towards the dance floor in the middle of the room. "Let's go dance."
Relief flooded his features, and his shoulders relaxed as he let me guide him to the edge of the crowd that was dancing slowly to the same pianist and violinist duo from yesterday. Turning to face him, I placed my arms loosely around his neck, and his hands came to softly touch my waist. He looked at me nervously, as if asking permission.
He was so sweet it made my toes curl in delight at the genuine soul that resided within him. He was a rare gem. We began to sway to the music, and I decided I wanted to keep learning more about this incredible man.
"So, was that your Hellhound rising to the surface when your eyes flashed orange?"
"Yes."
"You said he wanted to mark me." Damien's body tensed slightly. "Does that mean he approves of me?"
"You could say that." He smiled, amusement flashing in his gaze, as his hands tightened minutely against my waist.
I nibbled on my lower lip out of habit before I remembered I had lipstick on and stopped. I wanted to ask him if I could meet his Hellhound, but I couldn't figure out if that would be rude of me or not.
Eh, fuck it. I didn't get the feeling that he would be put off by my honest questions.
Peering up at him from under my lashes, I squeaked out, "Can I meet him? Not now, obviously, but eventually—"
He immediately stopped moving, and I groaned, apologizing, "I'm so sorry. I knew I shouldn't have asked that."
His large hand pushed my chin up to look at him instead of hanging my head in embarrassment. "I would love for you to meet him."
There was an intensity to his gaze I didn’t completely understand, and everything in me told me to tread lightly—that maybe this other part of Damien wasn’t as sweet as he was. The dual nature of this man seriously turned me on, and I found myself wanting to experience both of them.
Before I could answer, a clammy hand landed on my arm, bringing my attention to the man it belonged to. The king of the House of Sin.
Fucking yuck.
"I believe the song is over. May I have this next dance?" he asked politely, but the way his eyes roamed over my body was anything but polite.
Damien's chest rumbled as a growl worked its way out, and I immediately moved to soothe him with a hand on his chest, rubbing gently. "It's okay, Damien."
Glancing back at the king, I smiled—well, more like grimaced—and mustered all of the fake politeness I could gather. "Of course. I suppose we should chat about the vote anyway."
I felt sick to my stomach the second I put my hand in his, and dread washed through me, mental alarm bells sounding and alerting me that I should not be doing this.
But I had to. I had to do this for my house—it's what I was here for.
I'd give him one dance and figure out where he stood on the vote during that short time so I could be done with him.
"Oh, you naïve little vixen, didn't you know it's rude to discuss business on the first dance? Did your father teach you no manners?"
