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As that knowledge whispered through her, the kiss was broken and she found herself back on her feet, swaying as powerful hands steadied her and two strangers stared down at her with a carnal hunger she’d never imagined possible.
“Siren, you should go.” His accent thicker than before, the one behind her pressed his forehead to her shoulder. “Before we do something all of us might regret jumping into too quickly.”
Her common sense snapped back into place.
Wrong place, wrong time, wrong … something.
God, she hoped they didn’t expect her to choose one of them from those kisses alone, because it wasn’t happening.
Easing from him, her knees weak, lips tingling, she stared back at them, and she wished things were different.
“Perhaps, one day,” she murmured. “But not tonight. As much as I wish lives and rules were different. Besides, knowing the divorcée’s reputation, she’ll no doubt be awaiting you once you retire tonight.”
She didn’t like the thought of that. Sebastian watched her lashes fall over her incredibly soft gaze to hide the flash of jealousy, but it was there.
“Or perhaps we’ll be awaiting you in your room,” he suggested.
“Not tonight.” She shook her head and stepped from them.
Reaching the entrance to the arbor, she looked back, gave them a long, regretful glance before turning and drifting away as though she were no more than the fantasy they had accused her of being.
She disappeared amid the fall of snow and twinkling lights, the color of her gown hiding her amid the white blanket covering the gardens.
“I believe my heart may be broken,” Shane murmured. “The rejection is devastating.”
“Rejection? I don’t accept rejection, Shane. Not from her.” Moving from the arbor, Sebastian stepped into the snow, moving to follow her.
Shane shook his head. Sebastian was rarely a volatile person, but that young woman had somehow managed to reach inside them into a hunger they hadn’t known they were capable of, he guessed.
“She’s young, ’Bastian,” he commented, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo slacks as he caught up with his cousin. “Perhaps too young.”
“I’ll find out.” Sebastian shrugged. “I’m betting not. Hell, Shane, have you ever wanted to taste a woman’s flesh as badly as you wanted to taste hers?” The edge of frustration in his voice was as telling as the brisk pace he was setting to catch up with her.
“You’ll frighten her, ’Bastian,” he cautioned. “She’s too young, too innocent.”
“And far too curious,” Sebastian muttered. “You saw it as well as I. Young and innocent, yes. Frightened? Hell no, she wasn’t. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her.”
As they passed the entrance to the gardens they watched her slip into the ballroom, turning to cast a final glance toward them. There was no fear of the meeting in the garden being revealed, no fear of drawing the ire of the dark queen. But as the light reflected fully on Alyssa’s face Shane reached out and drew his cousin to a halt.
“I know who she is,” he drawled quietly, satisfaction filling him as he stared at the brightly lit ballroom and the guests milling about.
“Who?” Sebastian’s tension was a tangible thing.
Hell, she had both of them off balance, almost uncertain of themselves. A rather odd feeling, Shane admitted.
“The dark queen is her mother. There’s only one person in that damned ballroom that such a title applies to—”
“Fuck. She’s Margot Hampstead’s daughter.” Sebastian’s tone was a hard grumble. “Alyssa.”
“And shall I tell you what Landra was discussing with Cousin Jeb earlier?” Shane grinned.
Landra often discussed property decisions with her son, since her husband’s death the year before.
“Come on, Shane, get to it,” Sebastian demanded impatiently.
“Our little siren is indeed eighteen as of this past fall. In May she’ll be heading to Barcelona for three months, and Landra offered the Hampsteads use of her seaside apartment for their daughter,” he informed his cousin.
“Barcelona.” Irritation filled Sebastian’s voice now. “And you think I’ll be able to wait until May?”
