Page 13 of Poisonous Savage

"Anythingfor you,Mrs.Desmond," the senator purred, already ensnared.

Thepolicemen were easier—hungry dogs looking for scraps.Aglance here, a whisper there, and they were panting with the prospect ofCinderCrewfavors.

"Careful,Rosalind,"Hunterbreathed into my ear later, his voice a blade sliding across my skin. "Don'tget too friendly with the vermin.Idon't like the way they're looking at you."

"WhosaysI'mnot setting traps?"Ishot back, even as the heat of his body seared through the layers of my gown.

Hislaugh was a low rumble, the sound of rolling thunder promising devastation. "That'smy girl."

Ishivered, not from fear but from the thrill of the game.Aswe danced among the wolves,Itwirled underHunter'sarm, the darkness in his eyes reflecting my own transformation.Theonce clear waters of my soul now ran with ink, each step into this life staining me further.

"Enjoyingyourself?"Marcoasked when some urgent matter pulledHunteraway, his voice low.

"Immensely,"Ireplied, my gaze fixed on the pulsing vein in his neck, wondering how it would feel beneath my lips.Ishivered asIthought it;Marcowas dangerous.Notphysically, but this... raw tension that held note every time he was near.

"Good," he said, andIheard the shake in his tone. "Stayclose."

Andas the night wore on,Idanced with devils and dined with thieves, my laughter a siren song that lured them all toward destruction.Witheach whispered word and each subtle touch,Ibuilt my name asRosalindDesmond.

AndwhenIlooked in the mirror, the reflection that stared back was no longer a nymph of nature but a queencloaked in darkness, her crown forged in the fires of a world where only the ruthless survive.

Idrifted across the marble floor, the hem of my black gown whispering with every step.Theair was thick with expensive perfume and the underlying scent of jealousy.Ifelt their eyes on me – the wives and daughters of rival families.Theirglares cut sharper than knives, butIhad learned to wear their disdain like jewels.

Marcohad warned me of one in particular.Shehad set her gaze onHunterlong ago and wouldn't take it too kindly that a nobody snatched him.Shestood among them, her gaze locked onto mine.Isauntered over, the sway of my hips an unspoken challenge.

"Isabella,"Icooed. "Sothrilled you could make it."

Herlips curled into a smirk, matching my own. "Rosalind, darling, wouldn't miss it for the world."

Thedance began, not of feet, but of minds.Wecircled each other with compliments that held double edges and laughter that hid daggers.Andbit by bit,Iwove them into my web, their curiosity piqued, their envy a tool to be exploited.

"Yourhusband is quite something," one whispered, eyeing the room whereHunter'spresence lingered even in his absence.Asmall stab of the green-eyed monster rearedbefore she stuffed it down.Interestinghow many women wanted a man with a soul of blackness.

"Onlyas strong as those who stand beside him,"Ireplied, my hand sweeping over the crowd – an invitation, a promise.

Theirnods came slowly, grudging respect blooming like bruises on pale skin.

Asthe night wore on, they came to me, these high-bred vipers.Theysought my favor, my whispers shaping the world around us.Isaw myself reflected in their eyes, or whoIwas, not all that long ago.Relativelyuntainted.Touchedby this world but not engrossed in it.

Marcowatched, his presence never far.Hiseyes never strayed, and when he approached, it was with the grace of a panther, all coiled strength and lethal beauty.

"Careto dance?" he asked, his hand extended.

Iplaced my palm in his, letting him lead me onto the dance floor.Ourbodies moved together, a dangerous tango of want and warning.Marco'stouch seared through the fabric of my dress, branding me with a heat that spoke of forbidden things.

"Keepyour friends close," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

"Enemiescloser,"Ifinished. "Butwhich are you?"

"Neither."

Wedanced until the music became a pulse that matched our own.Itfelt natural.Normal.Itwas as ifIwas built to be in his embrace, and yet, asIthought that, an immoral thought crossed my mind.Perhaps...Icould find a fleeting love, even trapped in a contract with a lion.

Theglimmer of the chandelier caught my attention asIrefocused.Ifelt his gaze before he even touched me—the weight of it, heavy with ownership and pride.Hunter’sfingers traced the curve of my bare shoulder, a silent claim that sent shivers down my spine.

"Careful,Rosalind," he rumbled, close enough for his breath to caress my neck. "Marco'seyes might be hungry, but remember who you belong to."

Asmirk played on my lips, but the darkness in his tone was no laughing matter.Histhumb brushed against the delicate skin beneath my jaw, a soft threat. "I'myours,"Iwhispered, not a declaration but an acknowledgment.

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