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She smiles, a sharp toothed grin that doesn’t match the soft slope of her cheek. “You’re not from this side of the city.” She says plainly, her fingers growing warm in my palm. The soft, floral scent of rose wafts around us as she presses closer, the bare skin of her breasts brushing our joined hands with each level breath she takes. “I know every face here, and I’ve never seen yours.”
My tongue swipes out to wet my bottom lip, her eyes flicking to the movement. “Mi hai beccato.”The small hairs around her face shift with my breath, swaying at her temples. “You caught me.” Her pulse pounds in her throat despite the cool look of nonchalance on her face, her lips parting as I bring her fingers higher, brushing the tips with my lips. “What will you do now?”
“That depends.” She finally says, her swallow visible as she gazes up at me through her mask. “What are you here for?”
Heart thumping with the thrill of the challenge she exudes, I lean down, lips ticking at the slight hitch in her breath as my nose skims the shell of her ear, “You.”
I feel her free hand move at her side, my fingers pinching tighter around hers in a warning she doesn’t heed. I barely catch the knife she tries to wedge in my belly, my much larger hand squeezing her fist as it shakes between us. Jaw tight, I goad her, nipping at the skin just below her ear. “That’s not very ladylike, Anya.”
Our hands shake between us, the tip of her knife pressing dangerously hard against one of the buttons on my dress shirt. Her face pulls back enough she can glare at me, ruby lips tight as she fights my hold. “Who are you?”
“Someone you really shouldn’t be trying to kill in the middle of the masquerade.” My words make her eyes flick around us, the knife against my gut pulling back a bit. Her reaction makes me think she forgot we were in the middle of a public function.
“Tell me.” Her lips part, chest rising and falling in soft pants. “Or I’ll gut you, anyway.”
I can’t help the chuckle that winds its way from my chest, the woman glaring up at me nothing like what I expected. “I’ll tell you,” I start, surprising her by spinning, her grip faltering on the knife enough I rip it from her as her back smacks against the wall nearest us. Her now free hand clutches the front of my shirt, her other crushed between us as I press hard into her. The tip of the knife presses against the hollow of her throat, the tip lightly indenting the skin with every inhale. I smirk down at the anger burning in her eyes, continuing from before, “If you dance with me.”
“Why would I do that?” The words bite from her lips, a small hiss leaving her teeth when the knife nicks her skin with her movements.
“Because if you don’t,” My face drops low as someone walks near us, the action hiding the knife as I share Anya’s breaths, “I’ll slit your throat.”
Her jaw works, lips pursing. “Weren’t you the one that said you shouldn’t kill someone in the middle of a masquerade?”
The soft floral from before wafts up from her heated skin, enticing me to dip lower, brush my nose along hers. “I saidyoushouldn’t.”
Silence stretches between us, the soft distant sound of music rising above the noise of chattering and clinking glasses. Slowly pulling from her, I remove the knife from her neck, shoving it next to the one I already have hidden in my waistband. A single drop of blood beads up from where she was nicked, and I swipe it away with my thumb, Anya’s soft inhale drawing my gaze back to her face.
“What’s it going to be, angel?” If possible, her eyes narrow further with the nickname. “Ballerai con il diavolo?”Will you dance with the devil?I know she can’t understand me, but no translation is needed—I’m sure she can figure it out.
“Do I have a choice?” She finally asks, the hand against my chest still gripping my shirt, the tips of her fingernails lightly digging into my skin.
“No.”
I step back, but don’t release my hold on her, stretching our hands between us. My eyes don’t leave hers until I manipulate her into a spin, her heels tapping as she collides into my chest once more. My hand settles low on her back, pressing her hips flush with mine. Her eyes scream murder, and I can’t help but smile.
This might be my favorite job yet.
