Page 54
“I have made that observation, which is why I restrained myself from torturing Sullivan for asking about me.”
“He was doing me a favor.”
He smirked and placed his hand on his chest. “I’m flattered. Truly.”
She sighed. “You would be. All right, you said we’re going to wait a few songs and then go to the ingredient library.”
He nodded and steered her away from the bar, toward the dance floor.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s a ball, Winters. I’d assume we dance.”
Her mouth went dry. That hadn’t been part of the agreement.
“Since we’re trying to blend in, it would look rather odd if we came all this way and didn’t dance.”
He held out a hand and—spheres help her—she took it. His fingers intertwined with hers, and with a hand elegantly placed on her lower back, he pulled her closer. When the next song began, he moved her with ease and controlled precision. In a way, it reminded her of his combat technique. He was quick on his feet, not missing a single step. His silver eyes watched her carefully, and a smirk tugged on his lips.
“You can say it,” he encouraged.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She waited a beat but it irritated her all a bit too much. “Fine, can you be bad at something?”
He laughed and it made his otherwise colorless eyes sparkle in different shades of pale blue. She was so very aware of how his fingers pressed against her spine. If they inched any higher, he would touch bare skin. With every move, his body brushed against hers. Could he tell her heart was racing?
When Ella and Oliver danced near, Dawson made a point of pulling her even closer and smiled with arrogance.
“Don’t gloat,” she told him.
He chuckled and his chest rumbled against her. “Trust me, this is me restraining myself.”
“And having me dressed in Wielder silver is, what? Your idea of subtlety?”
“I don’t do subtlety, which is why you should celebrate my restraint. I wanted your dress to include a Shadowflame, made out of black diamonds, winding down your back.” Slowly, his fingers traced higher on her back, leaving the safety of the fabric of her dress until they danced along the length of her exposed spine, vertebra by vertebra.
A shudder went through her, pulsing like an electric current, and she sucked in a breath. Was this another of Dawson’s schemes? Or did he just enjoy toying with her?
She cleared her throat in an effort to compose herself. “Guess we found something you’re bad at after all.”
“What’s that?”
“Humility.”
“Hmm,” he hummed in contemplation, and the sound vibrated through her in ways she wished were unpleasant. “Overrated.”
“I guess that’s a Wielder trait. Your friends seem to lack it, too.”
“Speaking of which, Harrington couldn’t wait to tell me you picked his tacky mansion over the estate, which I will forgive you for in due time. I blame it solely on a lack of knowledge. Once you see my library, you’ll change your mind.”
He deftly led her across the dance floor, weaving around other couples. Soon she forgot they were surrounded by other people. Dawson had that sort of presence, demanding your full attention.
“Is it strange for you, being at your estate by yourself?”
The right corner of his mouth ticked up as if he hadn’t expected that question. “Not at all. The estate is like an old friend of mine.”
“Where is your mother?”
For the first time he missed a step, but even his recovery was so graceful she could hardly tell. “It appears we found something you’re terrible at as well.”
