Page 118 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

“I could get used to this,” Cally smirked as she took the two drinks from the waiter and passed one to Emara. “Your service is terrific.” She dramatically rolled out her hand in a bowing gesture toward the man. “Keep these coming, handsome.”

“Thank you.” Emara nodded to the waiter and then let her eyes wander, looking around herself. “This place is unbel—”

At once, she stopped speaking. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted what truly was heaven and hell as the Blacksteel brothers strode across the room to where they were seated.

Emara wasn’t sure she was breathing at all as she took in the sight of them walking towards her like two Gods of the ancient worlds. Everything else around the room slowed as Gideon strolled towards her wearing a white, fitted shirt that hugged around his sculpted torso. His shirt was buttoned at the top, joined by a long, black tie to match his trousers that sat low on his hips. His face was unreadable. Torin swaggered with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his dress jacket over his shoulder—dressed in all black.

Of course, he’s dressed in all black again, Emara snorted internally. It’s the colour of his heart.

For a moment, Emara allowed her eyes to take in every devastating detail of him too. His hair, jet black, sat perfectly atop his head; his long-sleeved shirt, in the same colour, stretched under his carved-to-perfection body. He wore a cocky grin that told her exactly what he was thinking.

Are you checking me out, angel?

She closed her mouth and tore her eyes away from them, turning to Cally. She, too, looked like she was in a Blacksteel trance.

Who wasn’t when they strode straight through the dancefloor, looking like that?

“Ladies,” Torin greeted them as he removed his hand from his pocket. The other removed his jacket from his shoulder and swung it over the chair next to Emara, marking it his.

Oh, Gods, help me.

Gideon took the seat next to Cally, smiling graciously at her. He lowered himself into the chair, his eyes flickering to Emara for a second, and then to his brother.

“Callyn, you look stunning, as always.” Torin spoke with presence as he adjusted a cufflink on his wrist.

Cally leaned forward and put the flute on the glass table that separated the chairs. “You don’t get to call me that.” She smiled, baring her teeth; it was not a smile of friendship.

It was a warning.

“That’s not what you were saying a few nights ago,” he purred back. “You said I could call you anything I wished.”

“Shut your mouth, Torin, or I will shut it for you,” the words emptied from Emara’s mouth before she could even stop them. No one tried to shame her best friend—to protect his own stupid macho pride—and got away with it. Cally would do the same for her. She always had.

He let out a whistle and leaned back in his chair, focused on Emara. His chiselled jaw tightened; his gaze darkened as he took in her face.

“Emara, you look…” he played around with words in his mind. That feeling coiled in her stomach, sending heat into all the places she didn’t want it. Not for Torin. She pushed her knees together, locking one foot behind the other, and swallowed down her surprise at her body’s reaction to him. Torin’s gaze followed the flow of her muscles and a small smirk tugged at his lips. “You look exquisite,” he finished. The articulation in his words sent a warm shiver up her spine and she took another mouthful of sparkling wine.

Emara stole a glance at Gideon, but his attention was on his brother, his cheeks pulled in tight, his eyes crackling with rage.

“Emara,” Callyn’s voice broke through the tension. Finally. “I am going to find Waylen; he should be here any moment.”

She gave a nod, not sure she was ready to be left alone with the Blacksteels, and said, “Come and find me soon, okay?”

“I will.” Cally leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Gideon, you look smoking, by the way.”

A small smile graced Gideon’s lips and she turned on her heels, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and strutted into the crowd.

As she disappeared, a waiter brought over a small crystal glass with a rusty orange liquid in it and handed it to Torin. “As requested, Mr. Blacksteel.”

Torin took the glass and nodded a thank you in return.

Both Gideon and Emara watched as he sipped the drink, dragging the liquor between his teeth, savouring every drop. “So, lovebirds...” He placed an arm over the back of the chair, casually relaxing. “Shall we talk about this morning?”

Gideon’s face almost turned purple at his brother’s words. “Emara, can we have a moment to talk?”—he flicked his eyes to her—“alone?”

She was never going to have this conversation in front of Torin, about what had happened between them this morning—or what hadn’t happened.

Before she could say anything, Torin cut in, “As much as I would love to stay and see Gideon squirm under the pressures of being a man, House Earth has just walked in.” He paused. “I must go and see our dearest mother.” He stood, hanging his jacket over his arm. “Please excuse me.”

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