Page 25 of Wolf Queen Ruin
Madame Selene moved through the parting crowd with the grace of something not entirely bound by physical laws.Tall and willowy, she wore a gown that seemed woven from the night sky itself, stars twinkling in its depths as she walked.Her skin was pale as moonlight, her features elegant and ageless.Her mask appeared to be made of pure silver that moved like liquid around her eyes, which shifted color with each blink—silver to blue to black to violet.
“What is she?”I whispered.
“No one knows for certain,” Damien said.“Some believe she’s one of the First Ones, the original supernaturals, beings that existed before the current supernatural factions emerged.Others think she’s a fusion of multiple magical bloodlines.Selene herself allows the speculation to continue.”
As she reached the center of the gallery, Selene raised her hands in a welcoming gesture.When she spoke, her voice carried effortlessly throughout the space, musical and hypnotic.
“Friends, old and new,” she said, “welcome to my home.The balance of day and night, light and shadow, offers us unique opportunities for exchange and discovery.”
Her gaze swept the gathering, and I could have sworn it lingered momentarily on Damien and me.
“As is tradition,” Selene continued, “my collection is open for your appreciation.New acquisitions await in the Eastern Gallery.Negotiations may commence at the stroke of midnight.Until then, please enjoy the offerings of my humble home.”
With that simple declaration, conversation resumed around us, though now with a more purposeful energy.Guests began drifting toward the indicated Eastern Gallery, where Selene’s newest treasures awaited.
“Should we head there now?”I asked Damien.
“Not immediately,” he cautioned.“Too obvious.We should allow the initial rush to subside before making our approach.”His hand found mine.“Besides, Selene herself will be receiving guests first.Better to meet her when she’s less surrounded.”
“So what now?”I gazed forlornly at the floating tables full of food.“More food?”
“No.”He surprised me by tugging me toward an open area where several couples danced to music played by an ensemble of musicians.“Now we dance.”
“Dance?”I repeated.“That wasn’t in the plan.”
“Adaptability is essential to a successful mission,” he said.“Besides, dancing is expected of an engaged couple at events like these.”
We reached the dance floor, and Damien’s hand settled at my waist while the other maintained its grip on mine.The music shifted to something slow and haunting, the strings and woodwinds creating a melody that seemed to bypass my ears and resonate directly in my chest.
“I should warn you,” I muttered as he guided me into the first steps of what was apparently a waltz, “my formal dance training ended when I was cast out of the pack.I’m more likely to step on your feet than impress anyone.”
“Follow my lead,” Damien said, his voice low and close to my ear.“I’ve had several centuries to perfect this particular skill.”
“Show-off,” I muttered.
I found myself moving in sync with him more easily than I expected.His leading was subtle but confident, tiny pressures of his hand at my waist guiding me through the unfamiliar steps.The moonpeach’s effects heightened my awareness of everything—the cool firmness of his hand against mine, the scent of spicy snow that clung to him, the precise control in every movement of his body.
“There,” he murmured, using our turn to indicate a far corner of the gallery.“The entrance to the Eastern Gallery.Security is heavier than expected.”
I followed his gaze to where two guards flanked an archway sparkling with protective magic.Unlike the entrance guards, these were not humanoid.Their forms were tall and angular, their skin like polished obsidian.
“Shadow sentinels,” Damien said.“They can detect deception and ill intent.Thorough, but not impossible to bypass if one’s intentions are carefully framed.”
“Meaning?”
“We aren’t lying about wanting to see Selene’s collection,” he said.“We simply have a specific piece we’re most interested in.”
The skin map.I couldn’t even think about it without shuddering.
The music shifted, the tempo increasing.Damien adjusted our steps smoothly, drawing me a fraction closer as we moved.For someone who had seemed so still all the time, he danced with remarkable grace.I found myself relaxing into him, our bodies finding an unexpected harmony.
“You’re pretty good at this,” he said.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” I replied dryly.“I did attend almost two fancy pack functions before my dramatic fall from grace.Dancing was required, along with diplomatic small talk and not eating the neighboring Alpha.No one said anything about fucking him, though.”
A full grin cupped his lips, followed by that gravelly laugh, the sight and sound stealing my breaths.“I’m beginning to understand why you didn’t fit into conventional pack structures.”
“Was it the ‘fucking’ comment?Too much?”
