Page 55 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
It was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life, this feeling of acute, hostile inspection. A thousand pairs of eyes bored into her. A thousand unfriendly faces turned slowly as Hawk guided her through the parting crowd toward the dais. A whisper rippled through the crowd, and Jack caught snippets of conversation from all around her, some of it in Portuguese, some of it in the other language that seemed to be their own, and some of it—unfortunately—in English.
“That’s her—”
“It’s the human—”
“So pale—”
“That hair—”
“Hope he puts her in the stocks—”
“Deserves whatever she gets!”
Hawk pulled her before the dais and gave
a curt nod of his head to the man lounging on the throne, his head tipped back as he inspected them both like something he might like to squash underfoot.
He was handsome in an old-fashioned matinee idol way, with slicked-back black hair, an aquiline nose, and an air of arrogant boredom particular to the wealthy and powerful, who wear their privilege like a ring on their little finger.
The Alpha! Do I bow? Do I smile? Do I go ahead and faint?
The Alpha solved her conundrum of manners when he drawled, “Well, well, well. Lord Bastard returns . . . with his prize in tow.”
He’d said “prize” with obvious irony. His feral gaze perused her, uncomfortably keen, and Jack tried with all her might to remain calm and stone-faced while everything inside her was screaming to run.
That, she knew, would be a terrible idea. Nothing brought out the predatory instincts in hunters like seeing the backside of prey darting off in terror into the woods.
All right. Let’s do this. Fake it ’til you make it, Jack!
She tried for a respectful tone while looking the Alpha in the eye. “I’m afraid I don’t know the proper way to address you, so please forgive me if this is rude.”
Beside her, Hawk hissed a low warning. Jack ignored him. She twisted her wrist from his grasp and stepped forward, shoulders back, head held high. In a clear voice that carried over the crowd, she said, “I’m Jacqueline Dolan. It’s a pleasure to meet you . . . Mr. . . . Alpha.”
Because her dead mother had been concerned with manners and appearances and enjoyed showing off her only daughter like a blue-ribbon cow when company came to their house when she was a child, Jack knew how to execute a perfect, proper curtsy. In her dirty jeans and jacket, with her hair tangled and her face most likely smudged with dirt, Jack sank into a swift, elegant curtsy, bowed head and bent knees and all. She straightened, beaming at the Alpha as if he were visiting royalty and she were a peasant girl he’d flung coins to on the side of the road.
There was a beat of astonished silence. The tension in the air felt like a wire pulled close to snapping. The only sound was the crackling of the bonfire, and it seemed as if everyone held a collective breath.
Hawk stood behind her, radiating a fury so dangerous it actually had heft.
The Alpha burst into laughter.
He threw back his head—displaying an impressive set of long, white teeth—and gave himself over to gales of belly-clenching guffaws until finally he stood, still chuckling and shaking his head, and stepped away from his throne.
He sauntered down the steps of the dais, looking at her down his nose. He took her hand, bent over it, and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Encantada. The pleasure is mine,” he purred. “Or at least I hope it will be.”
He straightened, still smiling, still holding her hand while gazing at her with those sharp, sharp eyes, and Jack knew that this man literally held her life in his hands. If he wanted to, he could simply kill her now. No one in the outside world would ever know what had happened. This would be the end of her story, the end of her life, the end of the line.
Her bones would be buried in the jungle. No headstone would mark her grave.
It was all up to him.
Would Hawk even try and stop him?
Her hand still resting in the Alpha’s, she blurted a sincere, “Thank you.”
One of his dark brows quirked. “For what?”
She blinked, realizing her faux pas, but couldn’t take it back now. “For . . .” She cleared her throat. “For . . .”
