Page 15 of Gilded Princess

We step onto the sidewalk, and only his quick reflexes save me from getting plowed over by some guys from the masquerade event. Masks askew, bloody noses and lips, and wide smiles, they laugh and pat each other’s backs. I sidestep them, stepping back into my mystery man.

As one, the four of them turn to face us. I think I recognize a few of their faces—and I’m pretty sure Blaire dated one of them last year, a senator’s son.

Charles Pinkerton leers at me before switching his focus to the man behind me. His eyes light up in recognition and something low in my gut clenches. “Oh, man, we were wondering where you snuck off to. Listen, bro, don’t even waste your time with that one—”

Dale Hardin, the senator’s son, claps one hand on Charles’s shoulder. “C’mon, man. You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s go.”

Charles shoves Dale off and turns to look at us fully. “Nah, man. He should know—that’s what friends do, right? They look out for each other, and I’m lookin’ out for him.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as dread claws its way up my throat, entwining with the hot flush of embarrassment.

“Move on, man. I don’t need your advice—friendly or otherwise.” His voice is deep and rich, exactly how I’d imagine it.

Charles sneers at him as he leans to the side a little, unsteady on his feet. “Oh, really? All the sudden you’re not about that easy pussy?” He laughs, this sharp noise that grates on my ears, and I clench my jaw at the urge to flinch. “Hey, you wanna waste your time trying to get her on her back, be my guest. She’s a fucking princess, man. And her pussy is in a goddamn gilded cage designed to tease the fuck outta you—she’ll never give you the key without a ring, and even if she did, some asshole wannabe thug’ll come and—”

My mystery man, my savior of the evening, steps around me and cocks his fist back in one smooth move. He unleashes his fury, and Charles doesn’t stand a chance. His head whips to the side and he falls into his friends standing silently behind him.

“I fucking warned you to move on,” he says, pointing at him. But by the dazed look on Charles’s face, he’s seeing stars, so he doesn’t offer much rebuttal.

Dale rests his hands on top of his head, shaking it a few times. “Fuck, man, you just never know when to shut your mouth. I’m sorry about that.”

My mystery man just looks at Dale before stepping back next to me and throwing his arm around my shoulders again. He steers us toward Blaire’s town car, and I wonder if anyone has ever had a heart attack from too many feelings at once—shame and embarrassment, anger and indignation, gratitude and fear—and lust.

I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about some drunk asshole running his mouth, but I kind of am. And that alone is enough to flare those shame flames.

He pulls us to a stop a few feet from the curb and lets his arm slide off my shoulders and down my back to rest against my lower back for a moment before he drops it to his side.

“Don’t let those assholes get to you, yeah? They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”

I don’t tell him that they’re kind of right—I don’t sleep around. I’ve only slept with one person, and he was my boyfriend at the time. And if you would’ve asked me last week if I thought I’d ever find someone who could really pique my interest, I would’ve said no. But after tonight, I think I’m ready to explore a little.

I trace my finger down the edge of his masquerade mask. I’m surprised it stayed on through everything. The only reason mine did is because the satin ribbon is bobby-pinned in. It’s not moving until I take those out.

“What’s your name?” I breathe the words out, taking an unconscious step toward him.

Instead of answering me, he eliminates the space between us and slides his palms along my neck, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck. His thumbs rest against my jaw, and he uses it to his advantage and angles my face upward.

He crushes his mouth to mine in a kiss that shakes me to my core. I have a feeling that was exactly the point.

He pulls back and whispers against my lips, “I’m an Aries. And in another life, I would’ve made you my queen. I would’ve dragged you back to my place and worshipped you until you begged me to stop.”

My lips part on an exhale, and he wastes no time swooping in for the kill. As if his words didn’t paint a picture my imagination ran wild with, he’s now assuring that I’ll feel his kiss for days to come.

We end our kiss slowly, neither one of us stepping back at first. I open my eyes, not at all shocked to see intense brown eyes locked on mine. He takes a step back then, letting his gaze roam all over my body as if he’s memorizing it.

“Until we meet again, Raven.”

“Until we meet again, Aries,” I murmur.

His mouth quirks to the side at my choice in name but he doesn’t say anything as he spins on his heel and stalks down the sidewalk, away from me.

“C’mon, look back. Don’t let me down now,” I whisper to myself, willing him to look back at me. It’s something I saw in a romantic comedy a long time ago, and I’m not even sure how much truth there is to it. Apparently, if he looks back, it means you’re destined to be together.

My heart lurches, and a feeling of loss coats my skin, thick and heavy. I watch as the shadows claim more and more of Aries with each step. And just before I can’t see him anymore, he turns around and looks at me, holding my gaze.

My breath leaves my chest in a whoosh as the feeling of his eyes on me intensifies. I watch in fascination as he walks backward down the sidewalk, the surrounding darkness swallowing him whole.

I bite my lip and glance around, half expecting him to jog back to me and hit me with another one of those toe-curling kisses.

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