Page 11 of Masked Fate

Maybe he’s finally taken one too many hits to the head in that fighting ring.

“Is this your friend, Pandora?” Salem asks, smirking. “Soren, how are you? Out doing King Rave’s bidding, I’m guessing?”

“I’m just here for a good time,” Soren replies, lifting his glass to his full, firm lips. His top lip, fuller than his bottom, is so tempting that I force myself to look away.

“Well,” Salem growls, cracking his thick knuckles. “Perhaps you can have a good time away from my fiancée.”

Soren’s gray eyes flicker, and he swallows the rest of his wine and places the glass down. “If she doesn’t have any mating bands or a ring on her finger, I’m pretty sure she’s a free witch.”

Soren either has balls of steel or is an idiot.

Or maybe it’s a mix of both.

I don’t know why he’s pushing Salem, but before I can say anything, Salem’s sister approaches, her long black hair trailing down her back, blending with her yellow figure-hugging gown. She’s usually in bright colors or more eccentric clothing. I love seeing her outfits every time I run into her. She’s a beautiful, curvy woman, and as always, I find myself unable to look away from her. She’s wearing her usual black gloves. I’ve never seen her without them. Her honey-brown eyes are filled with warmth, lighting up when she sees me.

She’s so unlike her brother.

Those two couldn’t be more different.

I don’t know how the same people birthed them.

“Pandora.” She smiles, her lips lifting. “Long time no see. You look beautiful.”

She rests her gloved hand on her brother’s arm, and he doesn’t even flinch. She’s the only person I’ve seen who can do so. Even his other brothers wouldn’t dare touch him. As theyoungest sibling and the only daughter, Saylor is overprotected and spoiled. Her coping mechanism for dealing with all the testosterone in her life seems to be dry humor and wit. She’s a hot mess, but I love her.

“So do you,” I reply, giving her a one-armed hug to avoid touching Salem. “How have you been?”

“Well, thank you. And who is this?” she asks, looking at Soren curiously.

“Soren,” he introduces himself, reaching out his hand to her.

I’m surprised Soren hasn’t met Saylor before. I know Rave has slept with her, but I’m guessing she wasn’t one of the females they shared.

Clearing my throat, I take his hand in mine, stopping him from touching her. I ignore the sparks that shoot up my arm and force a smile. I’ve seen Salem stab a man in the chest just for touching her hand, and even though my fated mate can be an asshole, I don’t want to see that happen to him any time soon.

I don’t know how Rave survived, but I don’t think Salem will offer Soren the same pardon.

Saylor’s honey-brown eyes, so different from all her brothers, flash with relief. “Sorry, my brother is insane. I mean, they all are. But this one is the worst.”

Salem grunts, his eyes still pinned on me, narrowed and giving nothing away, while Soren smirks, using our joined hands to pull me closer to his side. “I see. Well, it was nice to meet you, Saylor. And Salem, it was interesting seeing you again.”

Salem looks down at our hands and scowls. “Get your hands off her…now.”

“She’s not your fiancée anymore, Salem,” Saylor scowls, elbowing him in the arm. “Pandora can do what she wants. Oh, look, Silver and Sage are over there eating all those little strawberry cheesecakes you like. We better go, or there will be none left.”

Salem frowns, forgetting about me and pulling his sister away. “You’re welcome,” she coos with a wink.

Soren and I watch them leave. He slowly turns his head back to me and lets go of my hand, looking at where he touched me with disdain. “That family is fucking insane.” Tilting his head to the side, he cruelly adds, “Yours probably would have fit it perfectly.”

Yeah, okay. That dig hurt. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it hit its mark.

“You got what we came here for?” I ask, and he nods. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

“First, eat something,” he orders, nodding to the plate he got me, still in my other hand. Confusion ripples through me. Why does he care if I eat? He’s never so much as shown any kind of concern for me before this.

Almost in a daze, I pick up one of the cakes, take a bite, and try to ignore the sudden dominant gleam in his eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his gray eyes darkening.

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