“Here you go, ladies,” the barkeep says.
“Thank you.” I lean forward to take the tray of drinks and relish the blush on the man’s cheeks when he gets a glimpse down the neckline of my dress. Beside me, Severin clears his throat. I pretend not to hear it.
After Lyra grabs her mug of ale from the tray, we start back across the crowded bar—and I specifically don’t look at Severin as I go. But I can feel his gaze on me, like fire bathing me in heat. I’m glad I picked this dress to wear tonight; it’s thin and tight, and I know it makes my ass look amazing.
We find Alina, Raelan, and Poppy in a corner, standing at a tall table dusted in gold glitter. “Two white wines, one peppermint tea.” I pass the drinks out, then hand the tray to a waiterwho’s walking past. Picking up my glass of whiskey, I hold it aloft. “Blessed Samhain.”
“Blessed Samhain!” they all echo back at me.
The first sip of whiskey burns, but it lights my nerves on fire in a pleasant tingly way. And I feel like this is exactly what I need tonight. Severin being here—and it being a masquerade—just makes it that much better.
The musicians finish their song, then shift to play a new one, this one lower and slower, prompting a wave of couples to take to the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” Alina tells Raelan. She presses a deep kiss to his mouth, then grabs his hand and drags him away from our table, leaving me, Poppy, and Lyra standing there. I turn to watch them go, then flick a gaze at Severin across the dimly lit room.
And he’s staring directly at me, even as his companion is saying something, her hand on his arm, her body language clearly communicating that she’d like for him to fuck her tonight.
But his cock ismineto fuck. I thought I’d already made that clear. And if he doesn’t know that yet, he’s going to very soon.
I lift my glass of whiskey and sip at it slowly, making sure he’s watching.
Then someone steps in front of me, cutting off my line of sight.
“Blessed Samhain,” he says.
My gaze flicks over him in a quick assessment: He looks like a human, but he’s tall, with strong arms that probably do hard labor all day. And his face is cute in a boyish sort of way. Definitely not my type, but he’s exactly what I need right now.
“Blessed Samhain,” I echo back, blinking my eyes slowly and popping one hip.
He follows the movement, then swallows hard.
Got you.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks.
Behind me, Lyra grumbles, “Goddess, I swear, every time...”
One of my shoulders lifts in a shrug. “I suppose.” With one final sip, I set my whiskey glass down, then offer the stranger my hand. And the moment he takes it, I feel Severin’s eyes on us again, watching as the man leads me onto the dance floor.
He puts his hands on my waist, and I step close to him, making him draw a breath as I press my body against his. The scent of fresh-cut wood clings to him. A carpenter, maybe.
“So,” he says, sounding a bit more nervous now as we begin to sway, my body brushing his with each small movement. “Are you a... a witch?”
I tip my head back and meet his nervous eyes through his yellow mask. “What gave it away?”
“The hair.” His smile is sweet and much too innocent for me. “Do all witches have colorful hair?”
“Most, but not all.” In my periphery, I see Severin watching, standing straight and still beside the bar. Slowly, I trail one hand down the stranger’s chest. “Our hair color reflects our magical affinity.”
“Wh-what’s yours?”
My lips pull up into a smile. “Storm magic.”
“Wow.” He takes my hand and twirls me. When he pulls me back in, he adds, “Sounds scary.”
“It can be. That’s why you should never get on my bad side.”
He lets out a small laugh, and it sounds at least somewhat uncertain. “Thanks for the warning. I’m Will, by the way.”
