Page 97 of Fallen Court

“Your mask.” I looked around for the one that should have been in the garment bag.

But he pulled me toward the door. It began to revolve as we stepped inside, and I found myself gathering my skirts carefully to keep them from getting caught.

Reason number three we didn’t dress like this anymore.

“I can do better than a mask,” he said when we were safely on the street without a human in sight.

With another flourish, Lach waved his hand, and his face contorted, rippling and shifting. Curved horns sprouted from his head. His fingernails lengthened into razor-sharp talons. And his teeth…

“What do you think?” he asked. Even his voice sounded deeper, each word coming out as nearly a growl.

“Is it wrong that I find you hot?” I couldn’t stop staring at him. Maybe I would love him in any incarnation, but this…

“You better,” he said with a smile that revealed elongated canines.

Yeah, it was so wrong that it had to be right.

We strolled into the twilight, Beauty with her Beast, guaranteed a happily ever after if only for one night.

“Walk or drive?” he asked when we reached the end of the sidewalk. “At least you don’t have to nip on date night.”

My stomach turned over just thinking about it. I didn’t miss being whisked between worlds. I picked up my skirts, swaying them slightly. “I’m guessing I can’t get this thing in the Mercedes without magic.”

“Probably not.” He eyed it for a moment. “If you want to take it off…”

My eyes rolled up at his self-serving suggestion and found the pastel sky streaked with lavender and rose. Around us, the sweet citrus scent of olive bushes wafted in the air. I suddenly felt like I hadn’t enjoyed the city for far too long. That was natural with a murderer on the loose, but tonight, there was no safer place than by Lachlan Gage’s side. “Walk.”

He nodded, tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow. Laughter and music spilled from every doorway that we passed. Children began to crowd the sidewalks, heading to the city’s neighborhoods in droves, their harried parents tailing them with their phones, snapping pictures of every step. Their enthusiasm felt contagious.

We followed a particularly rowdy group toward the Garden District.

“Are you sure you’ve never been trick-or-treating before?” I asked. Judging from the number of people heading in the same direction, Lach had actually picked the best trick-or-treating in New Orleans.

“I know things.”

A toddler careened toward us, her mother chasing behind her. He dropped my arm and scooped the little girl off the ground. She took one look at his beastly mask and burst into tears.

“Sophie! You have to hold hands!” Sophie’s mom gave Lach a grateful smile as he passed her off. “Thank you, and I love your costume.”

Maybe it was the glamour, but I swore his chest puffed out. “Don’t let her flirting go to your head,” I joked.

He turned bewildered eyes on me. “Flirting? She just said she liked the costume.”

“I think she likes it like I like it.”

“Take it as a compliment. You picked it out,” he said with a shrug. Either he was oblivious, or he just didn’t care.

We continued along St. Charles. Every time I looked over at Lach, he was grinning, clearly enjoying the wealth of attention we were being paid from not just the many mothers out tonight but all ages and sexes.

“It’s strange. I never thought you were the type to enjoy the attention of the masses,” I teased.

“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong,” Lach said, patting my hand on his arm. “I’m enjoying how they’re looking at you.”

“Me?” The word came out on a choked laugh. “Pretty sure they’re trying to decide if you might rip them to shreds.” In fairness, he exuded that energy most days.

But he shook his head. “You have no idea how beautiful you look, my love.”

“Oh?” I said, totally unprepared for the compliment.