Page 91 of The Faceless Queen

All of the other dancers from the tavern who were present had remained on the edge of the floor. But he’d forced her away from them. I turned, suddenly taking control of my partner, moving closer to them.

There was a look of sheer panic and distress on her face.

I released my dance partner at once, barely bothering to apologize as I slid to Jaron’s side.

“Mind if I cut in?’ I asked.

A sly smile slid across his scarred lips. His cold green eyes met mine, and he laughed.

“I knew you wanted to dance with me, Princess.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Finlay beat the drums faster, the tempo of the song quickening as Cecelia eyed me nervously. She immediately stepped back from Jaron, hesitating only long enough to curtsey before me, then running off the dance floor. Hopefully she ran to Finlay—or just left the ball all together.

But I lost sight of her as Jaron grabbed both of my hands, tugging me against him. My stomach turned.

You know you like it.

I could still feel my back hitting the mattress, and the disgust that had crawled through my body ever since. The feeling that left me unable to find or even desire intimacy with another man for two years. The music swelled, too loud and boisterous, and my memories—my nightmares of Jaron—were ripping through me with violence from his every touch.

I lost my balance, barely able to handle our proximity. Then I missed the next step and tripped over my own Godsdamned dress, until I was falling forward into his arms.

Instinct took over at once, and I pushed him away, stumbling backward. I wanted to push him even harder. I wanted to hurt him. Wanted to give him another scar to match the one on his lip. I could barely hold myself back. Because my true feelings about him were winning out against any prior training I had as a princess or a whore.

Jaron licked the scar on his lip. “Leaving me so soon?” he asked, pulling me back against him, his large hands firm against my hips. “After you deprived me of a dance partner?”

“I just missed a beat,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Oh, come now,” he tightened his grip on me, “we all know you’re an expert dancer.”

“Expert? I think not. I must confess, the dance floors are not so crowded or wild in Spartva,” I said, straightening myself out. I reached for one of his hands, not wanting to take it, but preferring it where I could see it rather than on my waist.

“If you’re going to confess something to me, Princess, make it juicier than that.”

“And now I am regretting my choice to dance with you at all. I thought we could be civil.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” One brow narrowed.

I scoffed. “I have no time to avoid anyone. I have been getting to know my betrothed.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’ve seen the ways you get to know him.”

He spun me out, twirling me in a circle, before pulling me back in close and whispering into my ear. “But what I wonder about is why it is that when you see me with that one dancer, you want to interrupt. Why? Why her?"

“I only saw you,” I seethed. “And I hadn’t seen a friendly face for some time.”

“You thought my face was friendly?” He laughed, moving through the steps, wildly swinging my arms, and pushing me through the choreography.

“I was mistaken.”

“You sound angry, Princess. Now why would that be?”

I sent a little magic into my arms, my calves—not enough to change them as dramatically as I had when the chimera attacked. But enough to offer Olivay just a touch more muscle than she possessed. Enough to hold my ground.

Otherwise, Jaron was coming dangerously close to flinging me onto the floor with his movements. He wasn’t so much dancing with me as he was using me like a toy, pushing and dragging me around.

“Do you know her?” he asked. “The dancer.”