I sighed and turned to Daisuke. At least. . .I thought it was Daisuke. This was a Claw that relished in disappearing within the shadows and never being seen too much.
But tonight, he could not be ignored. He’d dyed his black mohawk candy apple red and had it layered to his head in waves reminiscent of women from the Great Gatsby movie.
Okay. They’ve put too much preparation into this contest.
But more insane. . .he wore a long black silk dress. Strapless. Ostrich feathers decorated the top.
I widened my eyes and checked Reo’s reaction.
My smiling Roar simply shrugged. “You look gorgeous, Daisuke.”
I turned back to Daisuke.
The dress hit his ankles and showed his heavy thick-soled boots. The cut followed his body without clinging. A slit ran up the left and right sides of his muscular thighs, exposing the twin blades strapped to them.
A faint trace of black lipstick softened his mouth. Red blush covered his cheeks. Somehow, he’d put white on his lashes and made them so long the bottom ones kept hitting his cheeks.
If I had not known it was him, I might have mistaken him for some 1920s silent-film siren. Even more, I wasn’t sure how I felt about some of my most dangerous men spending hours tonight on makeup and diamonds.
I quirked my brows. “Why are you wearing a dress?”
His expression remained neutral. “This isn’t a dress.”
I was about to speak when Hiro interrupted. “It isn’t.”
Reo nodded. “I would say it is a deconstructed suit.”
Daisuke bobbed his head. “Exactly.”
“Fine. It’s just. . .” I let out a long breath. “I don’t think my Tiger is giving out an award for the contest. It’s just supposed to be ahealthycompetition.”
“No. I know our Tiger very well.” Hiro crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure there will be something special for the winner.”
This party is going to give me a fucking headache.
I put my gaze on Toma, hoping he would at least be the one with common sense.
Of course not.
This evening, everything about Toma was a dare. His bright purple mohawk stood upright in long spikes with crystal hearts topping each point. I didn’t even know how one could do that or why.
The dress code had been black.
He’d decided on shiny purple. Sequined purple jacket with no shirt to show off his inked purple butterflies dripping with blood and eating away at the rotting skull in the center of his chest.
Purple leather pants with sequined knees.
Purple steel-toed boots.
Purple heart earrings dangling from his ears.
Purple crystal claws dotting each finger.
Toma ran his claws down his jacket. “Hiro thinks I’ll lose because I didn’t stick with the theme, but purple is a shade of black.”
Kaede shook his head. “It isn’t.”
Toma frowned. “Black is in it.”
