Page 18 of Taking Jenny
The compliment scorched down my spine. I suddenly felt naked under his gaze, even though we were both fully dressed. My throat went dry.
“I suppose we should get going,” I said, though my feet didn’t move an inch.
Tiger walked toward me slowly, a predator in formalwear, stopping just close enough that I could smell him again. That rich, warm blend of cedar and citrus curled around me like a drug. Every part of me wanted to peel that suit off him with my teeth. My eyes drifted up to his handsome face and caught on the dark intensity behind his calm, like he was fighting something. Maybe, the urge to touch or kiss me.
“After you,” he murmured.
I nodded, my lips parting as if to say something clever, then forgot what it was. “Right. Supper. Okay.” I moved toward the door, but he caught my hand, the gesture tender but grounding.
I turned, pulse skipping. “Yes?”
“Before we go out there, before things become whatever they’re going to be…” His other hand came up, curling around my waist. My breath hitched as he pulled me in, just enough for my body to register his heat, his strength, his restraint.
“There’s something I need to know first,” he murmured.
I couldn’t breathe. “Yes?”
His hand rose to my jaw, thumb brushing softly along my cheek. “Are you hurt? From the gag?”
His touch made my knees go weak. “Just a little tender is all.”
His expression darkened, but not with anger—with protectiveness. “The guards, when they separated us. They didn’t hurt you? Or…touch you?”
Elizabeth’s warning rang in my ears. I knew exactly what he was asking. “No. They didn’t.”
He exhaled a deep breath, relief gentling the hard lines of his face. “Moons above…” He shook his head. “Thank you for defending me in the throne room when the guard was going to clip my tail, Jenny. It was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”
I smiled up at him, caught somewhere between awe and desire. “You’re welcome, Tiger.”
His gaze fell to my lips and my heart pounded. I tipped my head up just enough to meet him halfway—
But he released me and stepped back. “I guess we should get going so we don’t annoy our host by being tardy to supper.”
I blinked in confusion, which was quickly followed by disappointment. Why the hell didn’t he kiss me? Was he not interested? Had I completely misread his interest?
My sigh was a little louder than it should’ve been as I followed him out the door. At the end of the hall, a uniformed man greeted us and directed us to the dining room. As we walked, Tiger’s hand gently brushed the small of my back, the warmth a comforting reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.
The contact also lit a fuse under my skin. Comforting, yes—but also dangerously close to intimate. I had no idea what to do with all the mixed signals he was sending.
The mansion was nearly as decadent as the palace, but colder. More sterile. Less decoration and more intimidation. The color scheme was all grayscale and mood—black, white, shadowy grays, with bursts of deep jewel tones like bloodstains.
The dining hall matched. A long black table stretched across the room and at least a dozen places were set, though less than half were filled by other people. A fire glowed at the head of the room, the flames licking the air like they knew a wealth of secrets. The windows were cloaked with thick charcoal curtains. The carpeting, the walls—everything whispered of power and danger.
But none of that took my attention away from Malice—dressed in a bespoke black suit—and his other guests who were already seated. By the looks of them, they were not prisoners like us.
The man I had seen next to Justice earlier sat to Malice’s left. Justice had called him Longshot. As much as I appreciated what Malice had said in the throne room and I knew his intervention was probably why Tiger still had his tail and I was still alive, my heart thundered at the sight of him. He was just as tall as Sarah’s companion, Deacon, but older than him. In the lowlight of the dining hall, he was tan with brown eyes and gray hair. He wore the same brown tunic as in the throne room, but he had accessorized. I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that his accessory stared back at me.
A long snake coiled around his right arm. I would have been startled, but I was too intrigued by its mirror scales that flashed when the fireplace flames leapt.
At Malice’s right, a Ladrian woman. She, too, was taller than Malice and quite thin. Her cheekbones were so sharp they couldhave cut me, as could the look in her violet eyes. She was draped over her chair, her long legs dangling over the side of it. She had black hair, braided tight. Her formal gray gown was stunning, but it was her expression that distracted me. Like Tiger and I were something to be scraped from her boot.
The third and final guest was an oddity. He was sitting next to the woman but appeared to be shorter than me. However, he was certainly an adult. His body was extremely muscular, more than anyone else in the room. He had the same jet black skin as Malice, but instead of a blue shimmer to it, the short man’s was red. It made him look ominous. His tunic was red, as well. He was bald and his eyes were darker than Justice Bateen’s. But when he smiled at me, I relaxed instantly. There was laughter in his black eyes.
I glanced back at Malice, who was staring at me with unnerving intensity. My skin prickled. He wasn’t smiling, not fully, but his mouth curved in a way that made me feel like he knew things. Things aboutme. Things I didn’t even know about myself.
And Lord help me, my heart skipped for all the wrong reasons.
“Sit wherever you like,” Malice said, waving a hand in the air. “We’re not formal here.”
