“Only the females?” I challenge him with a grin.
“Don’t get sassy with me,” Damien murmurs, as he pulls two glasses of champagne from a tray. He hands me mine, and then we head toward the rest of the guests, who seem to be milling around; some talking in groups, others in couples.
“Where are Cass and Finn?” I ask, glancing at Damien, who looks handsome with the silver mask covering half his face. It reminds me of a Phantom of the Opera mask. He doesn’t look at me. It’s the same way he acted in the car, which has me on alert that something is wrong. One thing about him was that he was always forthcoming in either noticing me or talking to me. But there’s been a shift, and I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on.
Music filters from speakers that I can’t see, as couples move toward a makeshift dancefloor in the middle of the garden. They get close, holding onto each other, and for a moment, I wish Damien would ask me to dance, but he’s not even paying attention.
“Could I ask you for a dance, young lady?” The question comes from one of the guests dressed solely in black, including a mask.
“She’s with me.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind, since you don’t seem to be wanting to dance,” the man tells Damien, and the prickly feeling I’m getting from beside me makes me nervous. I don’t think he’ll start a fight, but Damien and I haven’t really been out, unless you count the bonfire.
“Sure,” I finally respond, much to Damien’s disdain. It flashes in his eyes, but all I do is offer a grin and follow the man onto the dancefloor. We move to the music, and thankfully, he keeps his distance friendly.
With every turn, my gaze lands on the blue fire that’s burning a hole into the back of my dance partner’s head.
“He doesn’t like to share. Does he?”
“Not particularly,” I smile back. “So, are you allowed to tell me who you are? Or is this whole event completely anonymous?”
“This is your first dance?” When he tips his head to the side, regarding me curiously, a strange shift happens. But before I can figure out what exactly, I’m spun around and find myself in Damien’s arms.
“She’s dancing with me now,” he tells the man, now behind me. Then he drops his gaze to me. “I told you, you’re mine, you don’t dance with anyone else.”
“I wanted to dance, he offered. It wasn’t like I was going to drop to my knees on the dancefloor in front of him.” My biting tone causes Damien to chuckle, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the first tell I pick up on. When he grins, when he smirks, his smile always reaches his sparkling gaze; this time, there’s tension in his expression. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
He spins me on the dancefloor, our bodies moving to the song, but he doesn’t respond. A couple walks out onto the dancefloor, and it’s as if the air has thickened to scorching.
Everyone moves to the edge of the large tiled square, and the music stops. A gentle hum of whispers lingers, but it stills the moment the man picks up a microphone.
The woman beside him glances around, and Damien’s body stiffens beside me, but I don’t have time to look at him because the man speaks.
“Good evening to the young Thorne Haven elite,” he greets to whoops and howls of excitement. “It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the fiftieth annual Le Ball Masqué.”
“I thought you said it’s all the younger kids attending tonight?” My whisper feathers up toward Damien, and he tilts his head down to my ear. The warmth of his breath makes my skin tingle with awareness of his nearness.
“It is. They’re the owners of The Castle.”
“Who are they?” The moment I pose the question, the man’s glance lands on me, and I look directly into his eyes for the first time since he walked into the crowd. A lead weight drops into my stomach, and bile rises up to my throat. “Is that…?”
“Yes.” That’s all Damien says, but his arm snakes around my middle, holding me up because my knees buckle. “I need you to keep calm so we can explain,” he tells me in a lowered voice, but my heart thumps wildly in my ears, beating a rhythm that drowns out everything else.
Damien holds me up. He’s a rock, and I feel like I’m flailing in the darkness, but the spicy scent of his cologne is calming. Breathing deeply, I watch her smile. Even under the bright red mask, I would know her anywhere. She’s holding onto the man beside her, as if he’s her lifeline.
How can she not tell me where she was?