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“Beatrice is a lovely name,” he said, his crimson eyes carefully studying me. “My name is Mason. This is my wife, Carla, and my son… Lucien.”
Lucien.
That’s his name.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” said Carla, “We have put this off for too long.”
“I agree,” said my mother. “If you’d like to follow me, I’d be happy to show you to the dining room. We have some appetizers laid out, and refreshments, of course.”
“Wonderful,” said Mason, his voice as smooth as silk. Both he and his wife followed my mother as she moved away from the main entrance. I waited to see whether Max and my father would clear out to give me and Lucien a chance to speak, but while Max left, my father waited.
I tried my best not to look at Him, not to do or say anything that would imply we knew each other. The truth was, though, we didn’t know each other, not really, and that was worse. Way worse. If my father found out…
“Please,” I said to Lucien, gesturing with my hand and trying not to speak through my teeth. “After you.”
Lucien didn’t nod, didn’t respond; barely reacted. He simply walked past me, his eyes wide, as if he’d seen a ghost. I followed him into the dining hall, hoping I would be able to sit far enough away from him that I could avoid him all night.
As luck would have it, we were seated directly across from each other.
An hour had passed, and I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he was here. That he was a mage, a Diaboli, even. How had I not known? How had I not picked up on that before now? Maybe that was why I was so drawn to him, so intoxicated by him.
Oh no.
That one trail of thought led to another, which led to a flash of memory, which led to a sudden rush of excitement somewhere in my midriff. Crap. I swallowed hard and tried not to look at him, but it was difficult. Why did he have to be so good looking? He had that strong jawline, that days old stubble, and he was wearing the finest grey suit.
He was fidgeting with one of the many silver rings he had along his knuckles. Whenever he worried at them, I would catch a flash of the tattoos on the backs of his hands. I had never noticed them before. Just like I had never noticed the light crimson of his eyes.
His father’s eyes.
Diaboli eyes.
We had only ever met in that nightclub, and whether it was the dark, strobing lights of the dance floor, or those awful, harsh fluorescents of the bathroom, I had never noticed his real shade of eye color until now.
Another pulse of nervous energy tore through me.
I caught myself looking at him from across the table, and instantly, I regretted it. He was looking back at me, his eyes fixed on me. They weren’t wide anymore, but narrow, and… dangerous. Don’t, I thought to myself. Don’t you dare.
He pursed his lips.
His Adam’s apple worked.
Don’t.
He held one hand across his jaw, and his tongue darted across his lips.
I shot to my feet, my chair dragging behind me, the sound grabbing everyone’s attention. “Sorry…” I said, “Would you excuse me for just a moment?”
Mason and my father didn’t seem to mind. Carla was in the middle of her bowl of soup. My mother, however, glared at me as if I had just pulled out a gun, fired three rounds into the ceiling, and yelled yee-haw!
I didn’t wait for a response. I couldn’t be in that room any longer. Basically, I fled. I wasn’t sure where I was going, though, so I stopped at the other side of the foyer, tucked out of view and out of earshot.
“This can’t be happening,” I said to myself. “It can’t be him. Why is it him? Why is this happening?”
I felt like I was about to pass out, either from panic or excitement. He had this effect on me; this powerful, primal effect, that turned me into a lusting animal. I hadn’t questioned it much before now, but given that I knew who he was, and what family he belonged to, I had to wonder.
Is it magic? Is that how he gets me so hor— “—I’m just as surprised as you are,” he said.
He had followed me.
