Page 33 of A Hunter for Luna

Will you step into my trap, husband?

The music flowed into a crescendo, the final notes hanging in the air. We each took a step back and he bowed, keeping his eyes on mine as he would an opponent at a duel.

This was it. The moment of truth.

I unfurled my fan, waving it gently so the breeze touched my throat and breast. His eyes followed the movement and lingered in an almost physical caress.

"Thank you for the dance. It was enjoyable."

He caught my free hand, his fingers tightening around mine. "The pleasure was all mine, my lady," he said, his eyes glittering with promise. "I hope to have the chance to...game with you further."

A roguish grin flitted on his face as he tugged me off the dance floor.

"Where are we going?" I asked playfully as he guided me away from the crowded ballroom, through the servant entrance hidden by a curtain and up a flight of stairs.

"Somewhere quieter." His eyes sparkled with heated mischief.

The first door up the second floor opened on an opulent library filled with row upon row of scrolls and books. The heavy scent of leather and parchment hung in the air, seasoned with the faint after scent of wax from the burned down stubs of candles. The shutters were half open, and moonlight spilled through a large window overlooking the garden.

The music from below wafted through the window as well, turning to another sprightly dance.

Benedetto shut the door behind us and latched it before facing me. "Now we're alone. Shall we dispense with the pleasantries?"

I took a step closer to him, my pulse racing. "What will replace them?"

The look he gave me made heat flood my body. I knew I should keep my wits about me, but being near him clouded my thoughts. I had to remember how coldly he’d taken me and then ignored me afterwards.

Benedetto cupped my face, pulling me close. Our lips met in a fierce, heated kiss.

After a moment’s startlement when his lips parted, I copied him, the intensity of the moment driving away thought. My fingers tangled in his hair as he pressed me back against the bookshelf. I gasped, as the back of his hand brushed the exposed part of my breasts, teasing the skin just above the neckline.

"You're bold," I whispered, licking my lips. "But you don't know who I am."

He smirked. "Do I need to?"

My hand itched to slap him. While I knew men being faithful to their wives for very long was uncommon, it still annoyed me that he was acting like this with me, a stranger he met minutes before and known for only the length of a dance. I opened my mouth to respond, to reveal my identity just as the other shutter crashed open.

Three masked figures swarmed through the opening, drawing gleaming daggers.

Benedetto reacted instantly, pushing me behind him and drawing his sword in one fluid motion. "Stay behind me," he ordered.

I ignored him and stepped to the side where I could move freely, unfurling my fan. It also split us up as targets. The whisper thin painted silk concealed the razor edge of the fan until too late for those who attacked me.

One closed with me while another rushed Benedetto. The third moved to the heavy bookcase opposite us.

The blade of my opponent gleamed red with heat, charged with the sun’s magic. My own nipped at it without my will, draining it as I parried the cut with my fan. It kept the silk from catching fire, at least. Benedetto flickered and vanished, reappearing by the bookshelf, driving his blade through the robber’s unprotected back.

The maneuver left me alone to deal with two opponents. I skipped back, trying to get more room as the other also closed with me. My heel caught in my skirt, and I staggered, then threw myself flat to avoid the thrust that would have gutted me.

And ruined my dress, never forget that.

I continued the motion with a roll, kicking the shoe off, but taking a nick on my arm from the second opponent.

Benedetto appeared behind that one, his blade slicing through the man’s chest, the point coming too close to me as well. I spun away as the other turned to meet him and took advantage of his distraction to cut his throat from the side, scrambling away to keep the blood from splattering me.

Vala was insistent that killing people not stain expensive garments.

My opponent staggered forward, then collapsed, a wide red stain spreading out around him. I twisted my handkerchief around my cut as Benedetto strode to a thick, leather-bound book the third robber dropped.

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