Page 75 of The Art of Exiley

Her eyes are sympathetic but glinting with the conspiratory excitement of a good secret.

“That’s one dangerous dessert.” She eyes me meaningfully.

I groan. “You have no idea.” There’s no room for denial in a moment like this. I raise my arms out to my sides, languidly spinning around again. “I’m already so goooone….”

She laughs. “Well, I wouldnotadvise distracting yourself with His Highness Raphael VanJerkface, no matter how hot he is. I saw that eyeball moment on the train.” She looks at me knowingly. “And it definitely seemed consensual.”

“That’s probably even more dangerous.” I sigh, dropping my arms.

She laughs again. “You’re right about that.” She reaches for my hand and forces me to keep twirling. “But who needs guys anyway. Dance with meee!” She swings me around, hyper and elated, and we’re soon both lost in the music and the meditative beauty of the infinite.

Time passes in a blur. Eventually fatigue and thirst bring me back to reality.

Not long ago, Georgie danced away with a tall girl in a fox mask doing a ridiculously adorable Lindy Hop.

I head toward the bar in search of water and see Rafe making out with a different blond than the one he came with, no real surprise there. She starts to kiss down his neck and his gaze flicks up, meeting mine. He winks, then turns his face to kiss a boy pressed to his other side. The sensuality radiating from the three of them makes me blush and abandon my quest for a drink in my haste to get away.

I’m pulled back into the dancing milieu. A harp and flute ensemble is playing, and I twirl in time with the music, contributing to the spectacle by trailing small ribbons of sparks from my fingertips like Hypatia taught me.

I stop when two striking boys approach me. One I recognize as a beautiful member of Rafe’s entourage who is in my Sire lab and who I have avoided ever since he gave Georgie the stink eye in the hover park. The second boy—who is wearing a lion mask—has harsh features and is extremely tall; the top of my head doesn’t even reach his shoulders.

“Nice trick,” the tall boy says to me. “You’re a pretty thing to be dancing alone.” His accent sounds like a combination of British and French.

The beautiful boy from Genesis has an amber guildstone in his ear, but the tall boy wears no earrings. Instead, he wears a ruby ring on his hand, along with a bone ring. Blood Science and Avant Guard.

“We can keep you company,” the beautiful one says. I don’t like his mocking voice, and I don’t like the appetite in his expression. Maybe I would rather be alone.

“Thanks,” I say, “but I’m actually waiting for someone.”

The taller boy’s eyes are sharp and assessing. “Bram,” he says to his pretty companion, “why don’t you get us some drinks. I’ll keep this lovely lady company while she waits.” Bram smiles coldly and saunters away.

The tall boy gazes at me intently. “You don’t like my friend,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Maybe I don’t like you, either,” I respond.

“Well, I would certainly like to change that.” There is bite in his smile, but unlike Bram’s, it doesn’t bother me, and I let him pull me into a dance. His hand is large and cool, and as he holds me against himself, I marvel at his sheer size. He is lanky and slim, but so incredibly tall that I feel comically tiny. He’s very self-assured in the way he handles me, far too familiar for a stranger. One hand roams dangerously low down my exposed back, and heat floods my cheeks. “Well, isn’t that a pretty blush.” His hand moves lower still. Why have I not pushed him away? But after the disappointment of Michael’s earlier caution, a part of me craves this stranger’s boldness.

“I’ve never seen you around before. I thought I knew all the Sires in our small little world.” He’s telling me he knows I’m a recruit. I momentarily still from our dancing, but his smile and grasp remain inviting.

“Show me your lights again,” he says. I lift my fingers and let the shimmering ribbons sparkle between us. He runs his fingers through the lights and catches my fingers in his. “Beautiful.”

It occurs to me that, though I can’t deny I’m attracted to him, I don’t even know this boy’s name or anything else about him. But I like the way he holds me—like I’m something special to claim—and the way he looks at me, like hewantsme. I feel the rush of being wanted deep in my belly.

Bram returns bearing a carafe of water. He hands us goblets and liberally fills them. I’m parched and overheated, and I gratefully sip as the tall boy’s brazen fingers skim up my spine. I like his touch a little too much, and I step away, not trusting myself. The long night has started to catch up to me, and I’m feeling drowsy.

“I should really go find my friend,” I tell the boys. Tall Guy takes my cup, handing it back to Bram.

“Just one more dance, pretty little light spinner.” It’s not a question, and his eyes hold wicked promises. He pulls me toward him possessively, and I know I should protest, but I don’t. I really am tired, and it feels nice to lethim support my weight. I lean into him, my cheek resting against his chest, the top of my head barely reaching the open collar of his suede doublet. He lifts my hand and soft lips trail my inner arm, making a pleasant dizziness spread through me. With the slide of warm tongue against my skin, the music suddenly seems far away. A large hand strokes my hair as I lean more of my weight into his solid body. I close my eyes and drift off.

22

The sound of a slamming door startles me into consciousness. I squint against a wave of dizziness and try to move my arms, but I can’t. It seems I’m tied to a chair.

This gets my attention.

Adrenaline courses through me, and I blink until the room comes into focus. A tall boy looms nearby.

Oh. That guy. The memory of our dance washes over me.

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