She blows a handful of powder in my face.
I jerk away, trying not to suck it in, but the merriment has left me breathless. It’s too late. The powder hits my lungs.
Grabbing her by the dress, I shove her against the wall of the ballroom cavern, a knife pressed low to her abdomen. “What did you poison me with?”
“Not poison,” she says with a laugh, her arms wrapping around me with an intimate embrace. Our bodies twine, and then she’s undulating against me, careless of the knife. “I wouldn’t dare.” She breathes the words against my neck. “Your prince can take no umbrage with this, can he? Tell him it’s my little gift to him.”
My heart skips a beat, but it’s the stealthy slide of lust through my veins like raw honey that makes my eyes widen with horror.
It’s not poison.
Fingertips trail between my breasts, setting me alight. The tips of my nipples harden, and I shove away from her. It’s too late. I’m on fire. Burning within.
I’ve never inhaled rapture, but the fae of the Blessed courts use it to enhance their celebrations.
Snorting a pinch of it is enough to transform lovemaking. A male will be hard for days, driven only by the urge to fuck his way inside a female. A female, on the other hand, will want to rut with anything that’s hard enough….
I’ve heard talk that some of Malechus’s wildest debaucheries are filled with little bowls of the stuff, and small straws through which to imbibe.
No. No, no, no, no….
I have to get out of here.
I shove my way through the gathering.
Slamming into the hard planes of someone’s chest, I fight to trap the gasp that echoes in my throat. “Sorry—”
Malechus.
Hard, lean, staring down at me with predatory intent.
“I’d like a word with you,” he says with a chilling smile. “Dance with me.”
“I’m afraid I have to—” There are hands on my wrists. Hands that shackle and bind. Hands that make me wilt into his touch.
“This way,” Malechus says, leading me toward the balcony.
Every instinct inside me starts screaming, but my feet, treacherous beasts that they are, carry me after him.
“Would you care for a drink?” Malechus asks, snapping his fingers to one of the servants as he pushes me—none-too-gently—onto the balcony.
The ballroom beckons through the gauzy curtains. The music seems discordantly jarring, until I want to scratch my nails down my forearms. There’s sweat down my spine. Under my nose. If I grind my teeth together hard enough, maybe the feeling won’t overwhelm me?
“No.” I need to get out of here, before the rapture has me at its mercy.
Malechus takes a bottle of elderberry wine and pours us both a goblet, regardless of what I said. “Relax,” he purrs. “I have a good friend taking care of your handsome prince. We won’t be caught.”
“Caught?” Caught doing what?
He offers me the goblet. My choice is either to take it, or dare risk having him touch me.
Instantly, my mind throws half a dozen sensations into view. Malechus’s hands gripping my wrists. His teeth on my throat. His tongue on my skin….
I’m heating up.
How long does it take for this drug to fully take hold?
“Thank you.” I grab the goblet and retreat to the far end of the balcony.
“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, his blue eyes alight with heat as he stalks after me. “Or it could be….”
“Could be?” It’s too hard to focus on my words. All I can do is repeat his.
“Merisel, was it?” His eyes seem amused, and I cannot, for the life of me, work out why.
“Yes.” I half-snort a mouthful of wine in my eagerness to distract myself.
He rests one hand on the railing beside my hip, and every inch of me tenses. “I always wonder what sort of secrets a woman hides.” He breathes the words, trailing his fingertips barely a quarter inch from my body as he follows the contours of my gown. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
And then his finger comes to rest between my breasts.
Heat ripples out from his touch in concentric circles. I bite back on a moan as the prince leans closer.
“Ah, there you are. Such pale, pale skin you have….” His smile turns vicious. “I wonder whether Keir has any idea what a delightful gift he has to unwrap….”
Heart pounding. Breath catching. I bite into my knuckle. It can’t be mere coincidence that Rhea accosted me half a minute before Malechus sought me out. “Did you do this?”
“Do what?” His voice is little more than a roughened purr.
Before I know what I’m doing, I shove him back against the wall, putting my knife to his throat. I can’t remember drawing it. It’s like I’m making jagged leaps forward in time. “Did you send Rhea?”
“Rhea?” Malechus tilts his head back, but he appears completely unconcerned by the threat of the knife. “Oh, I can see why you’ve caught Keir’s attention.” He suddenly fists a handful of my skirts. “Be careful, my lady. If you start such a dangerous game, I will finish it.”
“I’m not playing a fucking game.” That hand. In my skirts. I’m sweating again. Need to get out of here.
But he seems to sense it, because his thumb strokes against my thigh.
“I like games,” he whispers. “That’s the one thing my father taught me—set the board, cast your pieces in play, and see what reckless mayhem ensues. Every fae prince will show his true face when you twist their arms. This entire elaborate scheme is bringing all the secrets to the surface.”
What is he talking about?
“Stop it. Get your hands off me.”
“Is that truly what you want?” He steps forward.
Somehow, my back is the one against the wall. I can’t remember moving. Malechus captures my hand, squeezing it tight around the blade. He turns it, forcing the point against my throat.
Everything within me goes still with liquid anticipation. I want to scream with frustration that my body’s barely obeying me at all.
I need to twist this back on him somehow.
“Your father. The
