I feel the moment Darian’s shadow falls over me from behind, not because Elijah lifts his gaze or the bored, dismissive way he scans the crowds. No, none of those things hold a candle to how my core warms at the sensation of my husband’s broad chest against my back. He’s stiff and uncomfortable around Elijah, which sparks unwelcome excitement.
“If those stories are true,” I say casually as a waiter appears with a tray of flutes, “I won’t hesitate to kill you in your sleep if you attempt to flirt with my friend.” I help myself to champagne and take a sip.
Behind me, Darian turns to stone.
Sinclair chokes on his drink.
Elijah assesses me with lazy intrigue, but I can’t be amusing enough for him because he turns on his heel and walks away.
“A simple thank you for the flowers would have sufficed.” As I turn back, Lauren stares at me, wide-eyed. Sinclair is laughing so hard, he’s almost doubled over, and Darian is about twoseconds away from exploding like a spectacular supernova. I look between them all. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Lauren asks as she gives my husband a concerned glance over my head. “You antagonized that guy on purpose.”
“So?”
“So?” It’s Sinclair who speaks this time. “You don’t want my son’s attention.”
A big hand lands on my hip, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Sinclair. He sips his champagne. “A possessive husband won’t stop my son when he sets his eye on something.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Darian to grow any stiffer, but I was wrong. There’s a possibility he’s now cemented to the floor. “Stop with the drama. I was letting you both know my friend is off-limits.”
“Son or no son of yours,” Darian growls, digging his fingers into my flesh. “If he comes near my wife, I’ll skin and quarter him.”
Lauren pales.
I turn to face my husband, who stares at his best friend with silent murder in his eyes. Sometimes, I wonder how they’ve maintained this close friendship over the years. My husband seems intent on killing Sinclair most of the time, and Sinclair? Well, he takes it all in his stride with a chuckle and a hard slap on Darian’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” Sinclair tells me as he jostles my husband. “He’s bark and no bite. Mostly anyway.” Turning to Lauren, he offers her the crook of his arm. “Care for a dance?”
“Care for a dance,” I mimic in his posh accent as I pull my friend to my side. “I swear to everything holy, if you thought the bat flower delivery was bad, you haven’t seen anything yet. Did you know the corpse flower is considered the ugliest plant in the world? Careful with your flirtatious smiles in my friend’sproximity, or I’ll ensure your house resembles a damn jungle next time you bring a conquest over. By the time I’m done playing Monopoly with my husband’s black card, you’ll require a machete to fight back the shrubbery just to reach the damn bed?—”
A big palm clamps down over my mouth as warm lips brush against my ear. “Careful, wife. If you don’t shut up, I might believe you’re jealous. And you don’t want to find out what happens if I think you harbor feelings toward my friend.”
I bat my husband off and spin around, whisper-hissing, “I’m not jealous! I’m worried about Lauren. If he hurts her, I’ll kill him.”
“And I’ll let you.”
I slam my lips shut, surprised by the glint of humor in his eyes. Behind me, Sinclair’s infectious chuckle mixes with the muted conversations in the room.
“Relax, baby,” he says, pausing beside me. “It’s only a dance.”
Then they’re gone, and I chew on my lip as I scan the room for rebels. Unease trickles down my spine. I’m on edge, and I don’t know why.
My mind drifts as I glance at Lauren and Sinclair. He’s an Elder. A brutal, deadly Elder with a smile that acts as a camouflage for what truly lurks beneath. By the time you sense danger, it’s too late. After Lauren’s lecturing earlier, she can’t be that easily swayed by his charms, right?
Even as I try to convince myself it’s all an act on her part, I know it’s a lie. It wasn’t that long ago I was hellbent on killing Darian.
I didn’t care if he was involved in his disappearance or not. He was a part of the Exodus and, therefore, an accomplice.
Now I’m not so certain anymore. Darian managed to break down my barriers with his non-existent charm, so Sinclair could be downright deadly if he set his mind to it.
Darian gets distracted by an older man with a mustache and bushy, silvery brows, who stares at my cleavage for a solid ten seconds before shaking my husband’s hand. Judging by the pained look on his face, Darian’s handshake is fierce enough to crush bones and then some. At least we’re in public, so he refrains from murdering the man in plain sight.
As I place the empty flute back on a tray, I catch sight of a passing lady’s necklace, which is subtle yet undoubtedly an inverted cross. She disappears into the gathered crowds, and I excuse myself from Darian’s side, mumbling that I need to freshen up.
Where did she go? My shoulders brush up against expensive suits and gowns. I weave between groups of people, craning my neck for a better view, but she’s nowhere in sight.
Fuck. She’s gone.
