Page 81 of Twisting Beauty

“Every time I close my eyes, I just…” She shook her head. “And then he says things, and I don’t know if he said them or if I dreamed them or if…” Her sentence trailed off, her glassy eyes blinking slowly. “Crawling on me. I swear to God.”

Nuala looked up at Finn, then at me. She let out a slow breath. “Sorry. I’ve got to get her out of here.”

Finn’s hand settled at the small of her back. “I’ll drive you.”

Nuala blinked up at him. “Oh, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I’m driving you,” he repeated, gentle yet final.

Nuala’s cheeks went pink. She nodded.

They walked off, Bridgit between them, and the crowd filled the gap they left like water. The fire crackled. Behind me, a group of students erupted in laughter. The champagne waterfall kept shimmering in the firelight.

And I was on my own.

25

LIATH

Ihad no reason to stay at this party now that Nuala had left.

For some stupid reason, I glanced back to where Lorcan had been standing. But he was gone.

I pulled my wrap tighter and made my way around the edge of the party, aiming for the path back through the black rosebushes toward the main house.

Up ahead, the thorned hedges opened into a corridor just wide enough for one person, and the dark peacefulness at the other end was the most promising thing I’d seen all night.

“Going so soon?”

Lorcan stepped out of the shadows in front of me, blocking the path, raven mask dark against the firelight, feathers lifting in the breeze.

I pursed my lips. “The only interesting guests are gone, so…”

I tried to move around him but he was in front of me again.

“My lady, you jest. Surely there’s at least one gentleman left worthy of your attention?” He extended a hand, a slight bow at the waist, the other arm swept wide in mock invitation. “Perhaps you’d care to dance with him?”

I blinked at him. At the coy smile he wore, at the twinkle in his eye. The coiled intensity I’d come to brace for was nowhere on him tonight. In its place was something looser, almost playful, the kind of ease that on anyone else would have been charming.

On him, it just made me suspicious.

“No,” I said, taking a step back. “I’m no dancer, and you’re no gentleman.”

He grabbed his chest with both hands, staggered back half a step, eyes widening through the mask. “You wound me.”

Over his shoulder, Aoife stood at the edge of the firelight, arms folded, glare fixed on us.

“Aoife looks lonely,” I said and turned, seeking an alternative path back to the house. “Go ask her.”

“Aoife’s always lonely.” He fell into step beside me without being invited, steering me back toward the party with his body. “Stay.”

“No.”

He tilted his head, something close to amusement moving through his striking eyes. “That dress is wasted if you’re just going to leave.”

He reached past me toward the drinks table, unhurried, leaning across my space without asking, close enough that I had to halt or I’d run into him. His scent cut through the night air, whiskey and woodsmoke, and low in my skull a broken chord of violins shivered awake before I could shut it down.

“It suits you,” he said.