Page 47 of Vengeance Becomes Her

“Can I sneak in a dance?”

She slowly turned her head towards him, his eyes were deep black pools that shone in the moonlight. She could stand to get lost in them fora few minutes.

“Okay,adance. I have friends to see.”

“Am I not a friend?” He brought his hand over his heart,feigning hurt.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the pain in my ass who’s taken way too much pleasure in torturing me formonths on end.”

Tristain put a gentle hand at the small of her back, took her hand in his, and led them back out on the dance floor. She was looking around, seeing who was watching, but he pulled her attention back to him.

“Your hair looks beautiful.”

“Are you saying it didn’t look nice before?” She quipped, trying to set him on edge, he was being far too charming today.

“You look good no matter what color your hair is. But this suits you, the real you.”

He tucked a strand behind her ear, his hand lingering at the edge of her jaw.

She spun herself in his arms, playfully backing away before things could escalate. The softness in his gaze was nothing but trouble. She couldn’t deny the way she came alive under his touch or the genuine attraction between them but it was too dangerous.

On her way back over to Idris, she grabbed two more glasses of wine, swiftly downing the first one. Her heated dance with Tristain had thrown her mood off, but she still wanted to enjoy these last few hours in Oakhaven, safe and surrounded by the people she cared for most.

At the thought of leaving them, she took a large gulp of her drink that burned her throat on the way down—or at least she told herself it was the wine and not the tears threatening to make their presence known.

Idris reached out to grab the wine glass from her as she approached. She halted, bringing it back behind her shoulder out of his reach.

“Excuse me, that’s mine,” she said teasingly.

“You said you were bringingusback drinks, seeing as how you guzzled yours back thereandI had to wait ten minutes, I’d say this one’s mine,” he shot back.

She drained the glass hastily. “I guess I’ll have to grab us some more.” The drinks and easy flirtation had lifted a heavy weight off her shoulders. She was starting to feel like the old Rhiannon, even if it was temporary.

She turned to find more wine but stumbled over the long fabric of her dress, the only thing saving her from a face full ofdirt was Idris.

“I think you should have some water,” he said, his strong arms holding the sides of her steady as she regained her composure. That hunger from earlier in the evening had left his eyes, something that resembled concern now rested there, his brow pinched.

She pushed both her hands against his chest and stepped back. It was happening again, everything was crashing down around her. It was like she couldn’t have a moment of happiness.

Idris broke through her thoughts before she could wallow in self-pity for too long. “You’ve had a lot to drink. Is everything okay? I know you’ve been…sick, but something seems different about you.” He reached toward her, fingers wrapping around her wrist. “You’re drinking like someone who’s trying to drown their inner demons. Do you want to talk?”

“Don’t. I didn’t come here to be coddled, I came here to have fun. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s what friends do, Rhiannon, we worry. You haven’t let me see you in months. How could I not?”

Irritation and guilt warred within her. She was no longer having fun. “It was nice seeing you Idris.”

She turned to leave but he grasped her hand.

“I’m leaving. Don’t follow me,” she snapped.

Her dress swirled as she once again went to make a hasty retreat. However, guilt halted her stride when she realized this could be the last time she’d ever see her dear friend.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye, Idris.”

She allowed herself one lingering look, noting the hurt in his eyes that she was responsible for. This is what she did now. She was no good for anyone. With one more glance at the dancing and revelry that she was leaving behind, she set on the path back towards home.

Tears finally forced their way to freedom as she distanced herself from the festival. Her breath started coming in shorter rasps. She could feel herself losing control quickly. Her tears were blurring her vision, so she could barely see where she was going through her drunken haze. That moment, a root in the ground found itself under her foot, sending her flying toward the dirt, except someonewrapped their arms around her waist, keeping her from hitting the ground.

Rhiannon whirled around, squinting through blurry eyes. She made out the shape of a dark-haired man—Tristain.

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