Page 5 of Midnight Rebel

Get it together, Autumn.

I press forward until I reach a partially open window by the east wing. But then—there it is again. The unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching over gravel.

Quiet and deliberate. Someone is approaching from behind.

My chest tightens as instinct kicks in. I duck behind a hedge and curse under my breath. This is bad.

I’ve been careful until now, but if someone catches me sneaking around the Montgomery property, they’ll never let me near this place again.

The wind roars in my ears, drowning out everything except my pounding heart.

Breathe, Autumn. Focus…

The footsteps stop. “I know you’re out there,” a low voice rumbles from the darkness.

I hold perfectly still, my breath stuck in my throat.

A figure too calm, too still, standing by just off the edge of the fountain. His silhouette is striking—a crisp white shirt and black tailcoat cutting a sharp contrast against the night.

The edges of his broad shoulders are framed by moonlight filtering through the trees, his black cape billowing slightly in the breeze.

Beneath his stark white half-mask covering the right side of his face is a strong jaw set with fine edges of shadow.

He could be a guest—maybe.

Or perhaps the source of all these strange accidents. Tension snaps tight in my chest as his eyes sweep over my hiding spot.

He steps closer, smooth and deliberate, like a panther sizing up his prey. “I promise I don’t bite.”

My mind scrambles for an excuse, for a reason I’m wandering the gardens alone, dressed like the world’s most conspicuous detective. I’ll brush it off. Play the part of the disinterested ball attendee.

“I needed some fresh air,” I say, stepping fully into view.

His eyes trail to where my hand is gripping the camera strap. “Is that right?”

I force a shrug and try to steer the conversation. “The ballroom was stifling.”

He steps closer, closing the distance between us until I can feel the warmth radiating from his body despite the cold air.

“You shouldn’t be skulking around out here in the dark,” he says, his voice low, rough—like smoke curling beneath velvet. “It’s dangerous.”

I fight the heat creeping into my neck. “Lots of people are sneaking around the gardens tonight, it seems.”

For the briefest moment, I worry he’s catching on to my real reason for being here. But then something shifts. His posture softens and becomes strangely inviting.

“Dance with me.” It isn’t a question.

Dance? I’m supposed to be snooping. But maybe... if I play along, I’ll get closer to the truth.

“I don’t even know you,” I say, my voice coming out breathier than I intended.

His smile deepens, a glint of teeth visible. “Isn’t that the point of a masquerade? The mystery? The intrigue?”

I shift the camera to my side, its weight a reminder of why I’m here. Damn it, his hand is already outstretched.

The pull of his gaze, the warmth of his proximity—it’s intoxicating. But I can use this. Get information.

“I hope you can dance,” I mutter, pretending to be unaffected by the way his fingers press gently at the small of my back, their heat seeping into my skin.

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