“You don’t know who I am?” he choked out.
“Uh. Well, this is my first time at the ball.”
His mouth fell open a little and he stared at me harder, as though it shouldn’t make any difference whether I’d been to the ball only once or a hundred times.
“My name is Jax, and I’m only the alpha of one of the largest packs in the United States.” He folded his arms and jutted his chin.
“Oh,” I said quickly. “I’ve never visited the human world.”
“Ah,” Jax said, his shoulders relaxing again.
“You’re an alpha shifter?” I asked.
“Jaguar,” he answered.
“Really?” I clasped my hands together in excitement, taking a closer look at the jaguar shifter in front of me. Wait until Mel found out. “My sister will be so excited when I tell her.”
“Oh yeah?” Jax said, leaning in. “She as pretty as you?”
I narrowed my eyes from behind my mask. “Very pretty—and much younger. Have I mentioned I’m an excellent shot with my bow and arrow? The creatures back home know to run in the opposite direction when I enter the forest.”
Jax’s broad shoulders shook with laughter. He lowered his arms and scrubbed his jaw.
“You’re protective. I respect that. Besides, I’m not into girls. I like my women of a certain age and experience. And I’m not the only one.” Jax jutted his chin and stared pointedly at another tall, muscular, blue-eyed male who had slipped away from one of the cloaked beds moments before. This male had slightly messy dark blond hair and light scruff on his jawline. He seemed to have misplaced his tuxedo jacket, and his dress shirt gaped open at the top. The rest of his starched white shirt strained against bulging muscles that looked as though they could pop the rest of the buttons free. I wondered if he was a shifter of some kind, as well. Some creatures were easier to guess than others.
A female in a floor-length black dress and long midnight hair with dark blue highlights slipped through the cloaked fabric the exquisite male recently vacated. Her full pink lips were swollen.
Jax grinned knowingly. “Her cherry scent is all over him.”
Jax’s gaze moved to the dance floor. His smile thinned as he scanned the moving bodies and settled on a female with white-blonde hair piled high on her head wearing a red dress that revealed cleavage. She danced with a male dressed up in a suit.
“Hey, listen, it was nice chatting with you,” he said, eyes still on the female. Without another word, he stalked off in her direction.
I hadn’t even had to use a fake name with Jax. Clearly I wasn’t deemed a creature of importance—not like Mr. Alpha of America. Males—typical. Didn’t matter what breed they were. I rolled my eyes and headed back to the bar, this time making my way to the other side where the “pointy-eared” bartenders, as Dec had called them, were mixing drinks. A tall, broad-shouldered elf sat at the bar in a tuxedo. His dark brown hair was thick and neatly trimmed at the nape of his neck. He looked classically handsome and proud from the way he sat straight.
I’d almost made it to the counter when the elven bartender asked if he wanted another drink.
“Not at the moment, thank you,” the elf replied, turning his head slightly my way.
I froze in place. I knew that voice and those condescending brown eyes.
Jhaeros.
His name hissed through my mind.
What in the seven hells was he doing here?
I swung around and hurried away before he had a chance to see me. Blindly, I rushed through the crowd clustered at the edge of the ballroom, barely seeing where I was going, as though the eyeholes on my mask had sewn themselves shut. Silks, satins, and tulle brushed against my arms as I fled through the throng—until I ran straight into a very large, solid form. My head lifted, giving me an up-close view of the towering male I’d plastered myself against. He had golden eyes, dark hair, and a beard.
Another shifter, I wondered? I really needed to visit the human realm if the males at this ball were an accurate representation of the sexy creatures on Earth.
“Pardon me,” the male said gruffly, jaw tight.
As I took him in, my mouth gaping open, he seized me by the shoulders and moved me aside as though I weighed no more than a dining chair.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but by the time I found my voice, he was already moving away at a hasty clip.
The rest of the gathering seemed to know better than me and swiftly moved aside as he barreled through.
I stood momentarily dazed, trying to remember where I’d been going. I blinked, and the ballroom came back into focus. Oh, right. Nowhere. Away. Out of sight from a certain priggish elf who held himself above everyone else, especially me. Well, I wasn’t the naïve elf I’d once been. I was a princess. A widow. A female who could look out for herself.
The band’s upbeat tempo died off, changing into a haunting melody as a mystical blue-haired siren sang into the microphone. Her seductive voice felt like a lulling wave rolling over the gathered assembly. The creatures around me quieted and turned their heads to the siren who appeared naked beneath her long blue hair until soft light from the chandeliers reflected the crystals on her nude gown. The siren’s lashes lowered as she closed her eyes, lips brushing over the microphone as she sang.
“We’re living like monsters, in a cage, villains of society. We’re nothing but monsters. So, take your place. Choose your lover. Choose your enemy. Welcome to the revelry.”
With determined, sweeping steps, I made my way back through the crowd, toward the bar where Jhaeros sat. I wouldn’t allow him to scare me off as he’d done in the past. I’d grown up since then. Besides, he wouldn’t recognize me in my mask, especially not since “blossoming” in Faerie as Liri had noted on many occasions. I shuddered. At least I hadn’t seen the murderous Fae. Yet. I’d tolerate Jhaeros over Liri anytime, anyplace.
Something tugged at my heart as I neared the bar. As unwelcome a sight as Jhaeros was, he represented a part of home—Pinemist—with both the good memories and the bad.
Tonight, I was happy to be ignored. I’d ignore him right back.
CHAPTER SIX
Head held high, I flounced up to the counter, three feet away from where Jhaeros sat nursing a short glass with amber liquid—no ice. His head craned the opposite way, staring into the crowd. I followed the direction of his nose to a plump brunette elf in a plum empire-waist gown. Typical. He definitely had his type.
“Hello, there,” the elf bartender with the blond fauxhawk said to me with a kind smile. “Enjoying the ball?”
“I am,” I said, grinning back. “I even met a jaguar shifter.”
Jhaeros grunted but didn’t look over. Ignoring him, I pressed my palms against the counter and continued, “It’s a rare treat to mingle with so many supernaturals in one location.”
“Yes, there’s no other event that can compare to The Monster Ball. I’m Elohir. What can I get you?”
“Nice to meet you, Elohir. How about your signature drink?”
The elf’s eyes lit up as he grinned. “One Frostbite coming right up for the lovely lady in yellow and gold.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the blue-haired vocalist as she repeated her earlier chorus.
“I love this song,” I said before facing the bar again.
Elohir’s fauxhawk bobbed as he nodded. “Chilling, isn’t it? It’s called ‘Monster,’ the hit single by Pot & Kettle.” He continued conversing as he mixed my drink. “In a little bit, when the band takes a break, our DJ, Nix, will get the place pumping. She’s in the overhead cage.”
I followed Elohir’s gaze as he tilted his head up. High above the stage, in a cage suspended from the ceiling, a petite, barefoot, dark-skinned female in a white sweetheart gown with ribbons wrapped around her ankles swayed along to the rhythm of the band. The pixie’s bright aqua hair was twisted into two buns on either side of her head.
“Maybe you’ll find someone to get your groove on with—perhaps a shifter,�
� Elohir suggested, icy blond eyebrows jumping with mirth.
“Or a Fae,” the female bartender called over before returning her attention to a couple leaning over the bar in front of her.
I was done with Fae, but I held my tongue, not wishing to offend the female bartender.
Elohir’s gaze drifted to the frown over my lips.
“Or you could always take a turn with a fellow elf.”
As his eyes shifted slyly in Jhaeros’s direction, my heart plummeted to my stomach and breath stuttered to a stop.
Jhaeros stiffened. The younger version of myself wished briefly to crawl behind the counter and hide. Aerith, the widowed princess, lifted her nose. Before Jhaeros had a chance to huff, or grunt, or—worse—dismiss the notion altogether, I said, “I’m not inclined to dance at the moment.”
Elohir grinned from pointed ear to pointed ear and slid a frosty blue drink across the counter to me. “Perhaps after a drink you’ll be more inclined to warm up.” He winked and moved over to Jhaeros. “You gonna sit here sulking all night, friend?”
“Attending this function wasn’t my idea,” Jhaeros answered gruffly.
“You do know that most sups would kill to get a ticket to The Monster Ball?” Elohir asked incredulously.
“I’m not most, and I’m not a ‘sup,’” Jhaeros said in an arrogant voice.
It was my turn to grunt. Jhaeros’s head jerked my way. I kept my gaze pointed straight ahead at the purple glowing shelves, thinking I was safe until a pair of penetrating brown eyes found mine in the mirror’s reflection. My entire body froze in his heated gaze. When I glared, Jhaeros’s jaw relaxed and he tilted his head slightly as though puzzled by my reaction.
He broke eye contact, and in the mirror’s reflection, I saw him turning to face me.
My heart sped up, pounding up my chest to my exposed neck. I snatched my drink, cold biting into my fingertips, as I said a rushed, “Thank you, Elohir,” and hurried away from the bar.
My heart fluttered with each footstep, the long, loose skirt of my gown swishing against my legs. This time I watched where I was going so I didn’t end up spilling blue slush down someone’s ball gown. As soon as I saw an empty spot on a table, I ditched my drink yet again. I really needed to stop ordering cocktails.
Locating a place to collect myself outside of the ballroom was now priority one . Yet again, I’d allowed Jhaeros to get under my skin, as though I’d never grown up from the timid mouse I’d been before leaving home.
I charged through a darkened archway into a tunnel dimly lit with torches. I wrapped my arms around my chest and shivered as I moved along the dank stone corridor. Doors lined the hall, a few closed, and some opened to reveal small rooms. I slowed my steps and peered into one of the open, unoccupied rooms. I saw a bedchamber, followed by a small library, and then a sitting room. The fire that blazed from a tall stone hearth in the sitting room drew me inside and over to its warmth. I stood in front of the fire, facing the flames, and gently lowered my arms, allowing the heat to bathe my exposed skin.
A minute later, I turned and looked over the cozy room with its matching cream chaise lounge, settee, and armchairs with pale gray throw pillows. A thick grayish-blue rug covered most of the stone floor. My eyes lit up when I noticed a campaigne board arranged on a low mahogany table in front of the settee. It was almost as though it had been set up especially for me.
My skirts rustled as I walked over to the table and sat in front of it. I picked up a red shrub carved from bloodwood, caressing the smooth rounded top with my thumb. Dark pieces carved from African blackwood lined the opposite side of the board.
I moved the bloodwood shrub two rows up then picked up a blackwood shrub and made a similar move. I moved another shrub from each side before capturing a bloodwood shrub with a blackwood shrub before taking the offending blackwood shrub with a bloodwood archer. Moving the pieces helped steady my breathing. I made several more moves. On the bloodwood side I moved my second archer, then moved him on the next turn. I picked him up to move him a third time when I heard Jhaeros’s deep voice rumble behind me.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
I turned and glared at him.
“Did you follow me?” I demanded.
Rather than answer my question, Jhaeros strode into the room and seated himself on the settee beside me. Instinctively, my body leaned away and I had to force myself to return upright.
“I’m not in a very social mood,” I informed him coldly.
Again, Jhaeros didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to pick up a blackwood mage and move it diagonally.
My mouth opened to tell him to go away—back to Elohir and the brunette elf who resembled Shalendra. But my mind had already plotted out a half-dozen potential countermoves across the board.
I moved my mage.
Jhaeros leaned forward, legs spreading slightly—his right knee filling the gap between us.
Five moves later, I captured his archer with my mage.
Jhaeros’s frown cut across his cheeks.
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my lips had other ideas when they smirked.
Jhaeros’s shoulders stiffened then relaxed.
“Impressive,” he said, sounding pleased.
“Can’t say the same for you,” I answered tartly.
After all the years he’d disregarded me, I couldn’t resist rubbing in my superior campaigne strategy, especially knowing what great pride he took in his supposed mastery of the game.
Tonight, he’d met his match, and I’d tolerate his company if only for the satisfaction of beating him. That delicious thought brought another smile to my lips.
Jhaeros reached for his far left shrub, nearly closing his elegant fingers around the piece before pausing just above the rounded top. He drew his hand away and leaned back, looking sideways at me.
“Before we continue, allow me to introduce myself. I am Jhaeros Keasandoral from Pinemist.”
Sky Mother above, he was so damn formal. I inclined my head in acknowledgment, quickly returning my attention to the board. I could feel him staring at me expectantly.
“Lady Thezlina,” I offered in a regal tone.
Jhaeros’s knee inched closer to mine. “Is that your real name?”
“Clearly.” With a snort, I lifted my right hand and waved my fingers at my mask.
“Where do you live?” Jhaeros pressed.
“Why do you want to know?”
“What if I would like to call on you after the ball?”
My heart lurched. How much scotch had he imbibed? Clearly too much.
I sniffed dismissively. “You have about as much chance of that as winning this game.”
Jhaeros’s eyebrows rose in challenge.
“If I win, will you tell me your real name?”
“What do I get if I win?” More like when I won, but he wouldn’t believe it until he saw me beat him with his own deep brown eyes.
“What do you want?” Jhaeros asked.
“To be left alone.”
Jhaeros frowned. “Have I offended you in some way?”
If only he knew.
“I told you I wasn’t in a social mood.”
“You seemed perfectly social with the bartender,” Jhaeros said.
“And you looked perfectly diverted with that brunette elf in the purple gown,” I returned. “Why not return to the ballroom, introduce yourself, and invite her to dance?”
Jhaeros scowled. “I don’t like dancing, and she reminded me of someone.”
His heated stare flared over my arms like warmth from the fire. As he continued to stare, my heart did little flips and twists worrying the mask would not be enough and that I’d remind him of that someone’s sister.
I cleared my throat. “Your move.”
His leg inched a little closer to mine.
I trained my gaze on the table in front of us. I could feel Jhaeros watching me rather than the board. Finally, he marched one of his shrubs forward on
the board.
We went back and forth in silence. When Jhaeros set his archer after my mage, I retreated, not willing to give up the piece.
Jhaeros was the first to move his queen. I studied my pieces, considering all the possible ways to bait him. He’d weakened his king side, so I decided to attack him where he was most vulnerable.
Even though I’d put him on the defense, he continued to spend as much time staring at me as the board. A big mistake.
While Jhaeros tried to march his shrubs down my throat, I moved my archer to his king side. We moved pieces around, evading capture as the game progressed. I ended up with space in front of my king, which wasn’t a typical maneuver, but I felt confident about my attacking abilities.
Jhaeros attacked my archer, leaving me an opening to attack his queen, which he promptly moved back on his next turn.
With the end-game in mind, we moved back and forth, trading pieces, trading mages, trading queens—moving our kings to the center. I found a great outpost for my archer, set up defenders, and continued moving my king to the center.
Jhaeros sucked in through his teeth.
Beneath my mask, my lips puffed out smugly.
“Who taught you how to play?” he asked gruffly.
“Self-taught,” I announced, lifting my chest.
“You’re very good,” Jhaeros said grudgingly.
“The best,” I corrected.
A thrill went through me, a desire to put him in his place, rub my superiority in his arrogant elven face. It was very unlike me. I’d never been one to taunt another creature or behave so vainly, but Jhaeros brought out a wicked side of me I’d never known I possessed.
Jhaeros pulled his leg away from mine. His long fingers spread over his thighs, and he gripped them as though to keep from strangling me.
My smile widened.
“I don’t usually make mistakes. It’s because I’ve been drinking.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Really? You’re going to blame the alcohol?”
Jhaeros’s spine stiffened. “I’ve been drinking since my arrival whereas you are clearheaded. I saw you get rid of that blue concoction Elohir prepared for you.”
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