"His Majesty, the king!"
The voice rang out across the ballroom and as one, all of the women sank into low curtseys as the men bowed. Corin smiled and inclined his head to gesture that the music should continue and the room began to move once more. Music and laughter and the sound of merriment rose until they could barely hear themselves think, and Corin held out his hand to Claudette.
"May I request the pleasure of this dance?" he asked with great formality as he turned to the lovely creature on his arm. Claudette pouted, apparently considering his offer.
"Well, I don't know,” she said with a little sigh. “You see … I was going to dance with Dannon."
"Were you indeed, you little hussy,” he said, knowing full well she was teasing, but playing along anyway. “Well, I think I may have something to say on that subject." With that, he grasped hold of her and swept her onto the dance floor.
***
"Damn the woman!" Bram cursed for the tenth time in as many minutes. He had searched high and low for Ameena for well over an hour with no success. She had looked so bereft as she'd rushed from the room that he had assumed she would have gone to her room to cry in private. Typical that he could never second-guess her. Wherever she was, she wasn't in her room or any other that he had come across so far. He scanned the ballroom and the hundreds of people below, looking for the telltale flash of blue hair with no avail. He saw Océane's friend Carla returning to her with a drink and took the opportunity to stop her. "Carla?"
She looked up at Bram and blushed as he smiled back at her, amused to know she was affected by him. "Have you seen Ameena?" he asked.
She frowned as she tried to remember. "Yes, about, oh, maybe half an hour ago. She was with a man."
Bram grasped hold of her arm, suddenly struck with foreboding. "What man?" he demanded.
"I … I don't know, I'm sorry,” she said, sounding a little alarmed by his intensity. “They went out of that door over there, though. He was very distinctive. White hair, almost silver, and strange eyes, I thought he was rather terrifying, actually …" Carla’s words trailed off as Bram was already moving. Devil Ravendell. His blood ran cold. Devil was irresistible. His looks and his magic made a seductive package that even a powerful Fae would be hard put to resist; Ameena would be easy prey, especially if she was feeling vulnerable. Devil’s temptation would call out to that hurt, promising an escape, pleasure in lieu of pain, pain of the kind that became pleasure.
He had to find her.
***
Ameena stared down over the balcony, incredulous at the lavish sight laid out before her, it felt like a dream. She shook her head, laughing as Devil pointed out the people below her and told her their darkest secrets. "I don't believe you," she said, utterly scandalised.
He put his hand over his heart, returning a wounded expression. "As if I would lie to you?"
Ameena snorted. "In a heartbeat,” she replied, looking up at him, at the thin veneer of respectability, of conformity, that failed to hide the wild creature beneath the impeccably tailored suit. Like a panther in Armani. She knew he was danger, knew she should not be alone with him, yet she felt compelled to follow where he led. He was the most charismatic man she had ever met, besides the king. The king had not given her this kind of attention, though. "You're one of the wolves, aren't you?"
He gave her a smile that was less a show of humour than a baring of teeth, and the panther image flickered behind her eyes once more.
"Yes … and no," he replied, giving a rather twisted smile at her puzzled look. "I am indeed considered one of their number,” he said, pursing his lips for a moment. “But my reputation is rather darker than theirs.” He gave her a direct look, warning in his eyes that seemed only a further invitation as desire uncoiled in her belly. “They cannot match me for debauchery, sweet Ameena. Even our noble king." He looked down at Corin with such intensity in his eyes that Ameena caught her breath. "He has been really quite wicked in his time, did you know that? Perhaps I will tell you stories," he mused, though he seemed to be talking to himself now. His gaze never left the king, though, something in his eyes that Ameena could not read but that seemed caught somewhere between loathing and desire. "Not now, though,” he said, turning back to Ameena. Almost unwillingly, he glanced back at the king and frowned. “So depressing to see him tamed, though, a tragedy, in fact."
Ameena looked down and followed his gaze once more. She watched Corin for a moment and the thought crossed her mind that she had never seen a man who looked less like he was tame, but held her tongue as Devil spoke again. "Even Corin, however, for all his excesses, had limits, boundaries he would not go beyond."
"And you don't?" she asked with a shiver, wondering why the words only made excitement burn in her blood. In normal circumstances, such words would have had her fleeing the room, but nothing seemed normal anymore. In truth, since the moment she’d met Devil, the evening seemed to have taken on an unreal, dreamlike quality, as though it didn’t matter what she did because she’d wake soon enough and all would be as it had before. Bram’s face entered her mind and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest, but she pushed it away. He didn’t care, didn’t even like her. No one had ever wanted her for long, so what did it matter? Ameena looked up again, startled to find Devil’s silver eyes on her, studying her. Her heart skipped, bloody hell but he was beautiful. If he ever set foot in her world, he’d have modelling agencies falling at his feet and clamouring for him. There was a strange mix of raw masculinity and sensuous beauty that was hard to look away from. She could think of no one who wouldn’t find him attractive.
He moved closer to her, reaching out one elegant hand and trailing a lazy finger over her cheek, making her shiver and her mouth go dry.
"Boundaries have but one purpose in my opinion," he said, his face serious, that sensual mouth moving so close to hers she could feel his breath on her lips. "To be crossed."
She turned away from him, overwhelmed all at once, far too aware of him, of the danger and excitement he was promising with every word, every touch. "Why are the fashions such a muddle?" she asked, needing a little space, a respite from the invitation his eyes held. "I can see dresses in styles covering the past millennia, but all the men look like they've come as Mr Darcy." Except for those awful button-up trousers. She was pleased to see that fashion trait had been left behind. The exquisitely cut coat and fancy waistcoat, high collared shirt, and cravat, however, were pure Regency.
Even Bram had abandoned his usual highwayman attire for the same elegant suit, waistcoat, and cravat as the other men. She’d been disappointed by that, she realised. He’d looked far too conventional for her taste, and she had been discouraged by the fact that he’d conformed. The idea that underneath the lavish exterior Bram was a deeply conservative man was no real revelation. That he didn’t want to be an outlaw but played the part to save his pride was something she hadn’t considered before. She realised now that he’d decided it was better to embrace his indignity, revel in it and make it his own, rather than cry and skulk away in shame. That took guts.
"I have no idea who Mr Darcy may be,” Devil replied, breaking into her thoughts. “But I can answer your question." She turned her head towards him once more, as curiosity outweighed her unhappiness, Devil’s magnetic personality driving thoughts of Bram from her mind. "The Fae, for all of our powers and magical ability, do not have your race's creative drive,” he said, taking her hand and placing it on his sleeve. “On the one hand, our magic makes us indolent, and on the other, we tend to be creatures of habit, if we like something, we stick with it. So in your world, fashions have come and gone, and we have copied but not forgotten those we liked most. After all, many of the people down there were alive when those dresses were in fashion the first time."
"How fascinating."
Devil nodded, though he was staring at her. “You are fascinated by all this,” he said, waving his hand at the crowds. “Because to you it is new and so different from anything you have known i
n your world.” He paused and moved closer to her. “I feel the same about you,” he said, and though she knew she did not - could not - trust him, she saw sincerity in his eyes. “I want to study you.” His voice was low now, and it skimmed over her skin, charged, somehow, as though an electrical current ran over her. “I want to know you.” He took her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her palm. Ameena’s breath caught, her desire for him so potent all at once that she didn’t know how she stopped herself from reaching out and touching him. Fear alone held her back. “I am going to learn you, Ameena, every part of you, your darkest secrets.” The words were a promise, a threat, perhaps, as she shivered, torn between excitement and alarm. “I shall etch my name on your bones so that you never forget that I know you best of all.”
“What are you saying?” she demanded, dismayed by the tremulous quality of her voice and wondering why she was asking, she knew well enough. “What is it you want with me?”
The silver eyes glittered and he placed her palm flat on his chest, covering it with his own and holding it there so that she could feel his heart beating beneath the hard muscle. He gave a low laugh as a shiver ran over her, the sound of it so wicked and knowing that she only shivered harder. “It is what you want from me that is more interesting, Ameena,” he said, a glint in his eyes that made her blush.
“Oh?” She pulled her hand free and he let her go without a murmur. “And what is it you think I want?” she demanded, beyond flustered now. She wanted to kiss him, to throw herself at him and let him do his worst, and run far from him, at one and the same time.
"An escape route,” he replied, unperturbed by her growing agitation.
Ameena stilled, wondering what it was he saw when he looked at her. How was it that she felt he could see inside of her, see every tangled emotion? "And what is it I'm escaping?" she asked, breathless now, torn between the desire to be seduced and the desire to be rescued, perhaps both at once.
He shrugged, but there was compassion in his eyes, a depth of understanding that made her want to cry and move into his arms. He would comfort her, she knew he would, he would make it go away. "An unhappy situation?” he said, his voice soft now, gentle, despite the razor-like glint of danger she still sensed in him. “A man, I imagine." Those silver eyes seemed to bore into her and she realised he knew her secrets. There was nothing she could do or say that could ever shock him, give him a disgust of her. He didn’t judge. "Someone here was not man enough to take you on, I suspect.” He put a hand to her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she could feel the shimmer of something she now knew to be magic rush over her skin at the contact. “Did you frighten him, my little lioness? Did you show your claws and make him run away?"
Ameena caught her breath and he laughed.
"Who told you?" she demanded, finding it hard to care as she became aware of the hard body beneath the elegant suit. The need to put her hands on his skin was palpable and she clenched her fists where they rested on his chest, for fear of ripping the buttons from his elegant waistcoat.
Devil leaned down and she felt his lips skim her cheek, his breath flutter against her neck. "No one told me, my little lioness." His mouth moved, brushing her skin for a brief second. "I see things, Ameena, dark secrets. Those private thoughts and desires that no one but you will ever know. The fantasies you would not even dare to share with a trusted lover … I know. I know what you want, and no matter how sharp your claws, no matter how deep you scratch … you won't frighten me. I promise." He kissed her bare shoulder and she gasped as that brief touch of his lips felt far more intimate. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, and he took hold of one hand. His thumb caressed her palm in slow, deliberate circles, and she was startled to discover an answering tug, very low down.
He released her waist, keeping hold of one hand as he reached for a small, silver flask from his inside pocket. He held it out to her, his eyes warmer than she had ever seen them, telling her she could trust him.
“Here,” he said, such sympathy and understanding in his voice. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” she asked, wondering why she didn’t care more about the answer.
“The escape you wanted,” he replied, putting it into her free hand. "Drink, Ameena. Drink and forget him, forget the man who was too afraid to give you what you need." The slow movement of his thumb continued, and the tug became a throb. Her breathing was hard and fast, and a disorientating melange of fear and desire and a strange sense of belonging swept over her as she looked up him. He was undeniably beautiful, though the sense of otherness, of someone less than human, was stronger with him than with any of the Fae she had met so far. The silver eyes watched her, unblinking, infinitely patient.
"What if I don't?" she asked, sounding breathless.
He shrugged, looking a little sad but in no way angry or irritated. "Then you may go. Go and find your young man, perhaps. Pretend to be a sweet young lady like all the rest of them. Bury your claws and your desires and conform like the others. Let him believe there is nothing more in your pretty head than the vacuous thoughts of most of the women below us."
"Or?" she asked, trembling in earnest now, too confused and disorientated to know what it was she wanted anymore.
The hand that had returned to her waist slipped lower and cupped her behind, pulling her closer still. She could feel the evidence of his desire through the thin material of her dress as his head dipped again and kissed her neck. She moaned, the sound soft and decadent, that simple touch awakening her entire body and promising so much more. "Or come with me,” he said, raising his head and brushing his lips over hers. “Come with me and forget him, forget them, forget everything except what I can make you feel. Drink, Ameena."
Ameena looked at the little flask, her heart beating in her throat. Bram didn't care, she knew that now. The disgusted look in his eyes when he had shouted at her had told her all she needed to know. Well, if she did this, she would confirm everything he had ever suspected about her, she would burn her boats and all hope would be gone. She wouldn't ever be able to nurture the idea that he would change his mind. This was better, a clean break.
Final.
Inevitable.
She held the flask to her lips, and drank.
Chapter 37
Bram was frantic, he pushed his way back through the crush of people, demanding of everyone if they had seen Ravendell, but the man was as slippery as an eel, as usual. He’d followed Carla’s direction, but no one had seen him, or no one was going to dare risk his anger by admitting it. With no idea where else to look in the maze of a castle, he’d returned to the ballroom, as he didn’t know what else to do. He turned as a large hand gripped his shoulder.
"What is it?"
Bram found Laen standing over him, his dark eyes full of concern.
"Laen, you have to help me,” he said, hearing the anxiety in his own voice. Corin had been right as ever. He’d behaved badly and now Ameena would pay for it because she was hurt and she had no idea of the dangers a man like Ravendell could pose. “It's Ameena," he said. "I think Ravendell has her."
"Gods, Tully, you bloody fool!" Laen snapped. He gave an exasperated sigh as he looked at Bram, though, perhaps seeing how desperate he was. "We'd best find Corin,” he said, looking over the heads of the seething mass of people.
"There's no time, please, Laen. I have to find her, we need to go now,” Bram pleaded. With every moment that passed, his head was filled with images of Ameena and Ravendell together, and he was about to lose his mind. He didn’t know how or why, but the woman had gotten under his skin, and the idea that she wouldn’t be his, that Devil would lay his filthy hands on her … Jealousy and fear fought for control of his heart as the idea sank in. Laen, however, shook his head, scanning the crowd for any sign of Corin.
"There is no way I'm facing Ravendell without Corin,” he said, his voice implacable. It was a tone that Bram knew well enough, he wouldn’t be swayed.
Bram frowned, angry at him for not
just doing as he asked. "Fine, I'll go alone."
He ground to a halt as Laen grasped hold of his arm. "You've been fool enough for one night,” he growled, a flicker of anger in his eyes now. “Don't compound it by getting yourself killed. I'm afraid of no man, but Ravendell …” He shook his head, frowning, and Bram could see the troubled look in his eyes. “He’s unpredictable, and all the more dangerous for it. He'll get into your head, Tully,” he warned, the tone of his voice making Bram shiver. “His magic is unlike any other I’ve ever known. It’s strange and powerful and … well, you don't want to taste it, take my word for it.” He shook his head. “We don't go without Corin."
Bram followed the big man, seething with frustration as Laen walked through the crowd, people scattering before him as he moved.
"What do you know of his magic?" Bram demanded, searching the room as best he could without the advantage of Laen’s great height. He’d heard enough rumours about Devil to know what was said, but Laen sounded like he knew.
"Enough," Laen said, his voice taut and dark, and Bram knew he would say no more. "There." He looked to where Laen was gesturing to see Corin surrounded by people and wearing his polite face. They both knew the one, it often came before some outrageous comment when he could not bear the boredom for a moment longer. Bram observed the moment when Corin saw Laen approaching, looming over the crowd like a dark angel. The king’s face lit up.
"I'm so terribly sorry, but I believe my presence is required elsewhere," he said, appearing genuinely crestfallen at having to leave, and hurried to Laen as fast as he could.
"Thank the gods," he muttered, once out of earshot. "I was losing the will to live."
"Don't thank me yet," Laen said, making Corin frown at the stern tone of voice. "Devil has Ameena."
Corin cursed under his breath, the golden eyes flashing with anger. He glared at Bram, who shook his head.
The Darkest Night Page 45
