Page 77 of Her Dark Salvation

I joined him and finished my champagne. “Why?”

“I have no idea, and I have a feeling I don’t want to find out.” He swirled the last vestiges of his whiskey among the melting ice cubes. “You ready for another?”

“After that? Absolutely.”

For the next half hour, Marco introduced me to some of the most wealthy and influential people in Boston, and fortified with bubbles, I said more hellos and shook more hands than I’d probably done in the past ten years. Guests started migrating to the ballroom, but I needed a moment away from all the noise and bodies and attention before another round of socializing.

I squeezed Marco’s forearm and handed him my empty champagne flute. “I’m going to the restroom.”

“Our table is at the front of the ballroom near the stage. I’ll meet you there.” He kissed my forehead, and my stomach danced with butterflies. I could get used to those kisses.

Past the front desk and toward the back patio, I was betting no one would venture that far for a restroom. I veered left but slowed when a woman’s flighty gasp and a man’s deep groan echoed down the short hallway. Deterred by the sounds but motivated by my need to pee, I stopped and peeked around the corner.

Luca’s white tuxedo jacket and his date’s platform heels were instantly recognizable. His large frame crushed her into the wall, and his hands pinned her wrists at her sides. Her head was tilted back and toward me. It rested on the wall and gave Luca access to her neck. His mouth was pressed there, and his throat worked as if he was swallowing.

She released short gasps and mewls, her face relaxed in pure bliss, the rest of her motionless behind the cage of his body.

Luca released one of her wrists and slid his hand up her skirt. She writhed under his touch, tilting her head further to the side like the source of her pleasure wasn’t coming from his hand but whatever he was doing with his mouth.

Whatwashe doing with his mouth?

Adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream and stunned me motionless with irrational panic. I didn’t understand why I was having such a visceral reaction, but I knew what I was witnessing was somehow wrong.

The woman moaned through an orgasm, her erotic vocalizations high and breathy. Luca’s movement at her neck slowed and with it her breathing. He lifted his head, swept his tongue twice over the length of her neck, and licked his lips. He backed away, straightening his suit jacket and bowtie.

The cool disinterest in his handsome face startled me into action, and I rounded the corner with quick, purposeful strides.

“Hi, Luca,” I said with a high-pitched squeak and fake smile. “They’re getting ready for dinner up there, so…” I eyed the restroom door.

He stalked toward me and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. It came away with a deep red smear, which he cleaned off with another swipe of his tongue. He passed me with a smirk, and a long, sharp eyetooth dominated his smile.

My heart hammered against my ribs, and blood rushed in my ears. I pushed open the restroom door and escaped into a stall. I gathered my dress, pulled down my thong, and sunk onto the seat holding my head in my hands. I relieved myself while trying to bring my frantic breath under control.

Red lipstick. That’s all it was. Red lipstick.

She’d been wearing bright red lipstick, right?

No. That was Siobhán.

But Luca’s date had it on, too. Right?

No, Anna. That wasn’t lipstick. That was blood.

I pressed my hands into the cold metal. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t get air into my lungs. I straightened my spine, extended my torso, and tipped my head back, trying to give my lungs enough space to expand. I needed oxygen; I was suffocating.

The restroom door opened, and the click of heels echoed off the tiled floor.

The presence of another person snapped me back into my breath. I sucked in as much air as I could—once, deeper, twice—and tamed my runaway panic.

I righted my dress, gathered my courage, and walked out of the stall. I joined Luca’s date at the sinks and turned on the water, pretending like I hadn’t seen them in the hallway or was having a panic attack.

She angled her neck toward the mirror and brushed her fingertips across an angry, swollen patch of skin surrounding two red welts.

My vision swam before me, and it included a pointed eyetooth. I blinked hard and tried to focus on washing my hands. Maybe I could wash away the memory.

“You’re Marco’s new Source, right?” She’d taken a compact out of her purse and was smoothing concealer over what I decided was a hickey. It had to be a hickey. It couldn’t be anything else.

No idea what she was talking about, I played along, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. “Yes, I’m here with Marco,” I said to her reflection.

---