Page 7 of Lethal Souls

He smirks. I know.

For a moment, he’s like a boy gazing at the stars. Nothing can break his trance as he digests every second, every step, every blink of mine.

When I’m close to the bottom, Juniper swishes past me and murmurs, “Told you he’d lose his shit.”

I laugh.

Caz moves closer, his eyes glittering with admiration as he offers a hand and helps me down.

“Willow, I—” He looks me all over. He hasn’t seen the dress on me until now. “I have no words. You’re absolutely stunning.”

I bite a smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself, sir.”

He ogles me again, his eyes bouncing everywhere, not sure where to stop.

“You know, it’s quite rare that Caspian is at a loss for words,” Maeve says as she trots past us in bold red, giving me a wink.

“Make sure she’s with you all night, brother.” Rowan claps Caz’s shoulder, but Caz doesn’t look away from me. Even with Rowan’s touch, he’s unbothered.

Caz tips my chin with his fingers. Fuck the dance, eh? Let me take you back upstairs and have my way with you.

I bite a smile and squeeze his hand just as Juniper pops up and snaps her fingers in his face. “All right, all right. Enough of the fuck-me eyes. She’s hot and you want to bang her right now, we get it.” She hooks her arm through mine and whisks me away before Caz can protest. “Let’s get going. We’ll miss the train if we don’t hurry!”

FIVE

CAZ

It’s rare that I find myself not hating things.

For the first time in my life, as we step off the fast train and climb into a chariot awaiting us in Vanora, I don’t hate the idea of going to Armistice Night.

All the times I’ve gone before, it felt like a complete waste. I never cared for all the people, the introductions, and the fake ass-kissing.

But this time is different with Willow at my side. All I want is to see her happy, and as the chariot approaches Alora’s palace, I see nothing but stars in my mate’s eyes.

She marvels over the vibrant torches lighting a path for the guests, the valet assisting them out of their cars and chariots at the front of the palace.

The palace has been decorated with pink and gold flowers that interlace with fairy lights. They garnish the columns, though the palace can stand in its own beauty if need be.

When our chariot parks, a valet pulls the door open and smiles.

“Welcome to Armistice Night, Blackwater Clan,” he greets us.

Killian, Rowan, Maeve, and Juniper get out first. I follow them, turning quickly for Willow’s hand. She takes it, the tips of her soft fingers landing in mine, as I help her step out of the chariot.

“I hate heels,” she reminds me for the second time tonight. The first was when we were at the train station waiting for its arrival. She’d shuffled on her feet until I guided her to a bench to rest.

“It’ll only be a couple hours,” I say, smiling.

She hooks her arm with mine, and we face the stretch of inclined stairs. The broad marble staircase leads to double doors where music floats out and merriment swims in the air.

The clan walks ahead, casual and soft-shouldered for once. They’ve come for a great night, whether they admit it or not, and I suppose I did too.

Once we’ve reached the top and made it through one of the lengthy corridors, a woman dressed in ivory silk greets us at the ballroom doors with a glittery gold pamphlet.

Then the worst part happens—the thing I hate most about Armistice Night as soon as we enter the ballroom.

“Please welcome Blackwater Monarch Caz Harlow and the Blackwater Clan!” a deep voice bellows, echoing through the ballroom.

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