Page 43 of Claimed In Darkness

I let my nails graze his skin, just enough to leave a mark.

"Your patience."

His pupils dilate.

Perhaps I have him in the palm of my hand. I think I have shaken him.

His grip slides lower, his fingers ghosting over the bare skin of my back.

I freeze.

It’s barely a touch.

Barely a whisper of contact.

But my breath hitches, my skin tingling where he traces idle patterns against my spine.

I curse myself.

I curse him.

"You’re very good at lying," he murmurs.

His hand tightens, and suddenly, I am spinning, my back colliding into his chest as he holds me against him.

The movement is seamless, part of the dance, something no one would notice.

But I feel his breath against my neck, the slow, deliberate drag of his lips between my neck and shoulder blades.

"And yet," he whispers, "your body still betrays you."

My heart thunders.

I whip my head to the side, my lips brushing dangerously close to his.

"Then maybe you should stop touching me," I murmur.

His smile deepens.

"But then we’d both be lying, wouldn’t we?"

I twist out of his grip, ending the dance before he can take another inch from me.

I step back, forcing my breathing to even.

The song fades.

The world returns and I notice the nobles watching and whispering.

I turn from him, ignoring the smug victory in his eyes.

I may have lost this round.

But this isn’t over.

16

ZEPHIRAN

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