I don’t know why he’s here. It was definitely not on his calendar when I left work yesterday. Maybe he’s here on a date.
Which is none of your concern, I remind myself firmly even as my stomach sinks.
I glance back over my shoulder. The fire ring burns brightly in the darkness, but I must have walked nearly a quarter of a mile. The music is faint, overridden by the chorus of frogs and occasional trill of a night bird. Moonlight sparkles on the water of the lake. A light summer breeze brushes over my skin.
I have one dance left, and then I’m done. I’m not looking forward to the long drive home, but there will be a glass of wine and my current book waiting for me.
A twig snaps in the darkness. Fear explodes inside me, takes over and roots my feet to the ground. My breathing quickens as my heart pounds against my chest in painful thuds.
Probably a guest. Maybe a couple sneaking away for a kiss. But there’s no murmured voices, no dim glow of a phone or flashlight.
The past rears up. Brett, eyes hard and furious, a bottle in his hand as he raises it above his head. A soft whimper rises to my lips.
Steady, Seraphina.
I mentally grab on to my fear, shove it down. I’m stronger, prepared. I keep my feet planted but crouch, loosening my knees as I wait. Listen for the next quiet sound of a footstep whispering across the grass. Wait until I sense someone just behind me.
I whirl. My left arm comes up, blocking my face as my right hand punches out. Fingers curl around my wrist and yank me forward. My heart shoots into my throat as I’m spun around and yanked against a hard chest.
You’re a weapon, Seraphina.
I stomp down on a foot. The grunt of pain in my ear energizes me. I whip my head back, wince as I connect with my attacker’s face. The grip on my wrist loosens and I dart forward, prepared to run.
“Damn it, Seraphina, did you take up boxing, too?”
I freeze. My heart is pounding so hard it takes a moment for the voice to penetrate.
Oh no.
My fear evaporates, replaced by cold, bone-deep panic of a different nature. Slowly, I turn.
Aiden stands just a couple feet away. Silver light streaks his thick, dark brown hair, highlights the cut of his cheekbones and caresses his strong jaw.
It also shows off the blood trickling down from his lower lip.
“Oh, God.”
I reach up to wipe the blood away, then snatch my hand away as his eyes narrow.
“Mr. Hawke. I’m so sorry. Is…is your nose broken?”
He reaches up and runs a finger down the bridge of his nose. The almost imperceptible wince reignites my guilt, leaving me swallowing the bitterness in my mouth.
“Despite your impressive efforts, no, it’s not.” He lowers his chin. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
The growl in his voice erases some of my panic, although the chauvinistic tone grates on my nerves.
“Perhaps,” I reply. “But you shouldn’t be sneaking around in the dark.”
One dark eyebrow arches up. A traitorous thrill shoots through me. Even with blood on his chin, he’s still too handsome for his own good. The faint cleft in his chin, the square jaw, the regal elegance contrasted by his broad shoulders and towering height.
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
I bite down on my lower lip to stifle a smile. He sounds so insulted.
“Then why didn’t you call out?”
“You’re wearing a mask and either a wig or you dyed your hair.” He leans in to peer at the synthetic fiber wig I borrowed from Jessica, bringing him closer and making my breath hitch. “Given the effort you put into concealing your identity, I didn’t think you’d like me calling out your name in case someone else is exploring.”
