“Guests are arriving, Mrs. Cade.” Edda darted in and out with her announcement.
Dripping in diamonds from ears, throat, wrists, and ankles like a cage of sparkling gems, accenting her silver-sequined gown, Mother stopped at the door, turning a concerned gaze on me. “Jessen. You know your father only wants what’s best for you. You must accept Aron as your future husband, dear. He will give you your heart’s desire.”
I sighed. “Will he, Mother? Has Father given you your heart’s desire?”
She sealed her mouth shut and pasted on a grim smile before sauntering off to greet her guests.
Moira sat on a stool in the corner, fiddling with her hem. “Come on.” I reached out to her. Dressed in a gossamer gown of pale blue, looking like an angel, she took my hand and we descended together.
Only a handful of guests had arrived. The ballroom was still airy with room to breathe. The orchestra warmed up, the violinists dragging bows across their strings. Silver chandeliers sparkled with golden light, casting a warm glow on the posh and pretty below. Servants in black livery weaved through the crowd, carrying silver platters of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
“Oh, look, Jess. Krissa is here. Thank goodness. Do you mind if I go?”
“Of course not. Go visit your friend.”
I strolled with the grace my mother had taught me—back straight, small steps, fake smile. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Barrow.” I nodded to Ella’s parents—pompous snobs.
“Good evening, Jessen. You’re looking lovely.”
I kept moving, filtering through the crowd. Of course, Ella couldn’t be here to keep me company among the wolves. Her parents would never let her near a Morgon, even in polite society and for a “good cause.” I smiled at the thought of Mrs. Barrow’s head popping off if she’d seen Ella at Acropolis the other night, carried off in the arms of Conn Rowanflame.
“Look, darling. Some of them are beginning to arrive,” said one of my father’s associates with a sneer behind his wine glass. His petite blond wife nudged him in the opposite direction. This whole charity ball was nothing but a farce.
I peered through the crowd, the pointed arches of folded Morgon wings reaching well above the heads of other guests. Some silver, some rust-red. My heart fluttered, waiting to pinpoint the high arch of a particular set of black wings.
“Oh, my goodness. It’s you. Yes, it’s really you!”
A young Morgon woman approached me, bright smile in place. At first I didn’t know her until my memory conjured up an image of a slender white-winged Morgon corralling Jed on the dance floor. Under normal lighting and minus the alcohol-fog, I could see she was graceful and lovely in an ethereal sort of way—tall and willowy with elfin features. Thin braids twined at the crown of her white-blond hair, the rest a silk waterfall cascading past her shoulders. Her sparkling white gown glittered with iridescent beads, magnifying the fey in her features.
“Hi. From The Torch the other night, right?” I extended my hand with a smile. “I’m Jessen Cade.”
“Shakara Icewing.” Blue-green eyes widened as she shook my hand, fingers long and delicate. “Yes! You were with that guy. I didn’t, um, I didn’t get his name.” She blushed ten shades of pink.
“Yeah. That was Jed. I’ll introduce you sometime.”
“You will?”
I swear, she looked like a fairy ready to explode into a ball of magic dust. Her skin glowed. Demetrius stepped to my side, his placid I-love-being-a-Cade face on.
“Father and Mother would like you to join us to greet our guests.”
“Oh, certainly.” I turned to the white-winged dragon girl. “This is Shakara Icewing. Shakara, this is my brother, Demetrius Cade.”
His face hardened as if it caused him pain to touch a Morgon, but he showed her the courtesy he would any woman. He took her hand and bowed over it, our custom for a gentleman greeting a lady.
She smiled warmly, dipping her eyes away. I’d never pegged any Morgon as submissive. Shakara held the unique beauty of her kind, but was a timid creature.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Demetrius cleared his throat, released her hand, and offered his arm to me. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Icewing.”
“Certainly.”
I let Demetrius lead me away toward the ballroom entrance, smirking at his grave expression. “That was civil, considering it must be causing you enormous anxiety to be proper and polite to so many Morgons.”
Dark brown eyes glanced my way. “I know this may come as a shock to you, dear sister, but I believe it’s good business policy to treat our enemy as we would any guest in our home.”
“Enemy, Demetrius? You act like we’re on a battlefield. It’s ridiculous.”
He paused in our progress toward the door, locking me in a fiery gaze. “Make no mistake. This is a battlefield. And I fight alongside my family, my father, to keep what we’ve worked hard for all our lives. You need to decide which side you’re on.”
In that moment, I felt sorry for my brother. He’d been molded and coached by my father to hate the enemy, Morgonkind, and now he believed even the slightest deviation from blind loyalty would mark him as a traitor. He continued leading me toward our parents who presided at the door. My breath caught in my throat. Three black-winged men stood next to my father under the arched entrance.
“There you are, dear. Adicus Nightwing, this is my daughter, Jessen.”
I didn’t dare glance at the man to his right. I could feel Lucius’s burning gaze, melting everything inside. I extended my hand to a man the same height as Lucius, a foot taller than my own father—black hair, graying at the temples, and dark eyes.
“Enchanting,” said Lucius’s father, engulfing my hand with his and dipping a bow. “Pritchard, it seems you’ve kept your most precious jewel hidden from view.”
A full, throaty laugh bellowed from my father, making me cringe. “That she is.”
Yeah, right. Even a precious jewel can be bought and sold. My father looked like he wanted to say more, but held his tongue.
“Miss Cade, please allow me to introduce my sons. This is Lorian Nightwing.”
The Morgon to his left took my hand. Molded from the same cloth as his brother, the planes of his cheekbones were cut sharper, his eyes fixed in a severe expression. The most startling difference was the eyes—one brown, one blue. I tried not to stare, turning to the third man in line.
“And this is my eldest, Lucius Nightwing.”
Lucius’s gaze could’ve set me on fire. He betrayed no emotion, his mask firmly in place, while his eyes drank me in from top to bottom when he dipped a bow over my hand. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Cade.”
He was striking in a black-on-black tuxedo that fit him perfectly. He held my hand a moment longer than etiquette required, his fingers grazing slowly along my inner wrist and palm. The orchestra swung into their first waltz. Lucius held my gaze. “Miss Cade, I wonder if you might do me the honor of joining me for the first dance.”
This civil Lucius put me off-guard. My father threw a sharp glance at me. He was daring me to refuse the request of an honored guest, a guest he wanted to lull into a sleepy state before he demolished him on the business front.
Well, all in the line of family duty. “Of course, Mr. Nightwing.”
I took his arm and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor. Wings tucked flush against his back, he whisked me into his arms with more grace than I thought possible for a Morgon. And such a large one at that. He took my hand in his and placed the other firmly on my waist, heat singeing through the fabric. I refused to let my eyes betray me. My heart leapt when he pressed his massive body close. I pasted on my most polite expression.
“You do know, Mr. Nightwing, that my father despises all Morgons. Your family most of all.” I couldn’t help but use his formal title, teasing him before I moved in for the kill.
He swung me expertly at the curve of the dance floor, my body leaning and swaying
as he directed. What other ways would my body obey his commands?
“I’d have to be a fool not to, Miss Cade.” The teasing went both ways apparently. His eyes glinted with mischief, though his mask didn’t slip. “And how do you feel about Morgons crossing lines with humans?” He swept me into another turn, his cool features unwavering. “Politically speaking, of course.”
I grinned. “Oh, well, politically speaking, it seems to be wise, don’t you think? We live amongst one another after all. We must learn to live together if our society is to flourish.”
“Mmm. Wise words.”
“I can’t claim them as my own exactly. My sister Moira’s teacher is preaching this sort of unite-the-species philosophy in her class.”
He tugged me tighter on the next turn, my breasts pressing against him. He did it on purpose, but he wouldn’t distract me from going in for the kill. Sane Jessen told me to behave. Crazy Jessen told her to shut up.
“Speaking of business and politics, I saw something interesting in the Warwick District today.”
He flinched. “Did you now?”
“Yes. Most interesting. I was unaware your family owned an art gallery, Mr. Nightwing.”
He clenched his jaw. A red wall of heat enflamed his neck and cheeks, his stony expression slipping. He gripped me tighter, slowing our progression around the dance floor.
“And what did you see, Miss Cade?” His words rumbled low and gravelly, reaching places within me I didn’t even know existed.
I swallowed hard, holding his gaze. “A rather intriguing, and I must say, revealing series of paintings called The Lover. I hadn’t realized you were such an artist.”
He spun us to a corner, nearly giving me whiplash, blocking me from view of the throng, his expression fierce. “What exactly did it reveal to you, Miss Cade?”
“Other than your imagination is scarily close to reality, it revealed that you have thought about me often since our first meeting. Since that kiss you claimed was a mistake.”
The hand on my waist drifted up to encircle my neck, his thumb resting on my pulse. I didn’t move an inch, letting him shift his body closer, a wall of heat threatening to set me aflame.
“The only way to free my mind was to pour you onto the canvas.”
“And did it work, Lucius? Are you finally free of me?”
A long, desperate rake of his eyes across my face. “No.” A gentle stroke of his thumb along my pulse. “I fear,”—his voice faltered—“I fear I never will be.” He dipped his head lower into my intimate space. “Nor do I want to be.”
My genial facade crumbled. He must’ve felt the erratic speeding of my pulse, my tongue on the verge of a confession my heart didn’t know until now. “Lucius, I—”
The orchestra stopped suddenly. My father tapped the microphone on the dais, welcoming guests to the first annual United Charity Ball. “If my family could join me up here on stage, please.”
Without saying another word, I broke from Lucius’s piercing gaze and warm embrace to weave toward the stage. I shuddered when I stepped up to where my family and Aron’s family stood side by side. I knew they’d be here since all of his business partners were, but seeing Aron’s hungry eyes made me wince and look away. Hurry, Father. I wished he’d finish with the formalities so I could escape to a darkened corner with the Morgon man towering above the crowd, watching me intently at that very moment.
I tuned everyone out but him. I knew I was smiling more than etiquette required. My heart soared at Lucius’s words. I could hardly keep still. I noticed other faces of the crowd flitting to me, people smiling back. A scowl darkened Lucius. Someone grabbed me about the waist. Aron grinned down at me, like the cat who caught the oblivious mouse. I jerked my head to my father.
“Therefore, everyone… Please raise your glass as I take this proud moment to toast and congratulate them—the future Mr. and Mrs. Aron Grayson!”
My world tilted sideways, teetering toward mass destruction. Through a haze of rage, I heard a roar of polite applause as everyone in the room lifted their glass. Except me. And Lucius.
Chapter 9
“And now, a waltz for the newly engaged couple.” Cade shouted from the stage.
It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t. Her smile said yes, her eyes said no.
I remembered him, the asshole who manhandled her the first night I met her at Acropolis. I nearly broke his arm. I wished I had. And then some.
The bastard hauled her off stage and into his arms. I trembled as my beast shook to let the rage fly. I longed to surrender, to crush bone, to make bleed, to burn to cinders. It would only take a few seconds to annihilate him into ash.
The asshole led her away into the crowd of dancers. I couldn’t see her face, but his expressed a triumphant man, having a prize in his arms he’d wanted for some time. One of his hands tightened low on her hip. Blood filled my vision.
She’d lied to me. Lied. My jaw clenched. Something popped. I swept toward the door, only to be caught by my father.
“Lucius. Why the scowl, son?”
I couldn’t even form an answer.
“Remove the look of death from your face before the natives think you plan to eat them.” He smiled to a passerby.
“I need to leave,” I growled.
“Not yet. Cade wants us to celebrate the nuptials of his daughter to the Grayson boy. After that, I’d say we’ve all done our part and can escape this charade.”
I followed in my father’s wake, readying myself to toast to the new couple, eager to make her squirm. In the mood I was in now, we’d all be lucky if I made it from this ballroom without bloodshed.
* * * *
From the second Aron had hauled me into his arms, I’d bitten into the side of my cheek to keep from screaming my head off and making a scene. I peered over the crowd, trying to find Lucius. I caught a glimpse of two black-winged Morgons in the vicinity of my father’s table. Aron gripped my hip, much lower than was proper, and whirled me again.
“I’m done with this charade.” I wrenched from his grasp, edging off the dance floor. Before I made three steps, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my back flush to his front, one arm wrapping my waist.
I glared at him over my shoulder. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I struggled to break free. He held me hard, smiling like an ass to an onlooker.
“Watch your language,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “It’s unbecoming of a proper lady, especially one who is to be my wife.”
“The hell I am. I’m not marrying you. Are you dense or something?” I twisted out of his grip. “Must I literally spell it out for you? Or is even reading beyond your comprehension?”
Unperturbed, though gray eyes went glacial for a second, he gripped my arm in what might look like a loving touch to others, while his fingers curled into my tender flesh. “Have you ever wondered why you never had a boyfriend?”
I blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, isn’t it odd someone as wealthy and as beautiful as you has never held the attention of one man for any length of time? And you are beautiful, sweetheart. I love this dress, though the color is a bit stark.” His free hand slid over my hipbone in a sensual caress.
“Stop touching me that way.” An angry flame burned in my belly. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, only that you’ve never had a boyfriend, because I made sure of it.”
A sinking sensation washed over me as if I were being swallowed whole by the earth. It was true. Every time I’d become really attracted to a guy, he’d lose interest after a couple of dates. “What do you mean?”
His eyes seared into mine, fixing me with cold brutality. His grip on my arm and hip tightened. “You are mine. You always have been. I watched and waited. I made sure every adolescent upstart who thought to have you knew you were already taken. Understand me, sweetheart, this will happen. Accept it, so we can get on with our lives, because I’ve waited lo
ng enough. My patience is running out.” His eyes dropped to my cleavage. He might as well have slapped me.
He was insane, literally insane. I shoved his hands off me, staying close enough for his ears only.
“Let me explain something to you, bastard. I don’t give a damn how many public announcements my father makes. He can take out an advertisement on every skyline billboard in the city for all I care. I have never been yours and never will be.” Fury lacing every word, I couldn’t help but pour out my heart. “As a matter of fact, I’m in love with someone else, and he could kick your ass into dust. So, fuck off.”
Someone grabbed my arm at the elbow with a tight hold. Father leaned close with a plastic grin for those who looked our way. “Smile, daughter,” he grated with steel in his voice, “or you’ll regret it.” He gestured with a nod to Aron. “Son, why don’t you head back to our table while Jessen and I have a chat.”
Aron’s fuming form brushed past us. As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned to my father. “Whose idea was this? Yours or Aron’s?”
“Aron and I both have your best interests at heart.” He spoke brightly to a passing couple. “Evening, Terrington! Glad you could make it.”
“If you had my best interests at heart, you’d actually care about what I wanted.”
“Aron is from one of the finest families in the city, and next to us, the wealthiest. There is no better match.”
Not true. The Nightwings were far wealthier, but he’d never consider them one of the finest families. “If you love him so much, you marry him,” I snapped. “It’s not like you give any attention to your own wife.”
His hold tightened in a painful grip. “You will smile and be a proper hostess, as is befitting a lady of your class. You will bear the burden of this marriage whether you want to or not, and do your duty by your family.” An iron gaze pinned me in place. The same look that made me feel five years old and powerless. “If you choose to disobey me, you will no longer be a part of this family. You will lose everything. You will never see your mother or Moira again.”
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