My legs are shaking as I make my way up to the castle and I honestly feel like I’m going to pass out before I get to the entrance.

I can hear music coming from what must be the ballroom and I curse myself for all the mini-freak-outs I had while getting ready.

The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself by walking in late.

Another wave of dizziness washes over me and just when I think I’m about to hit the pavement, I feel my phone vibrate.

I swear there are moments where Cain’s so attuned to me it’s almost like he knows me better than I know myself.

Speeding up my steps, I head toward the left side of the castle.

I reach the door after what feels like an eternity and continue down the hallway. The sound of music and people chattering makes my stomach churn.

In a few short steps, I’ll be inside the ballroom with all of them.

I curse under my breath. I’m supposed to be proving I can handle this.

Everything I want is right inside that room. Now isn’t the time to be a baby.

Taking a deep breath, I force my legs to start walking.

My knees buckle as I enter. Even with the mask on I can’t help but feel like everyone knows it’s me.

I desperately search around for Cain, but it proves to be futile. It seems as if every man here is wearing the same black tux, bowtie, and inconspicuous black mask.

My phone vibrates.

I stop moving. He can see me?

I mentally smack myself on the head. Of course, Cain can see me. He purchased everything I’m wearing.

Including the string of pearls that glide across my most sensitive areas with the slightest of movements—making it downright impossible to forget what’s under my dress.

I swear I blush five different shades of red. I know he didn’t mean to sound dirty, but it sends a rush of heat between my legs anyway.

It also sends my anxiety into overdrive, because it reminds me I’m in a room full of people and not home in my bedroom.

Nerves flutter in my belly and I look down at the floor.

Every time I take in my surroundings, my head whirls like a cyclone. I feel much better staying on the sidelines, staring at my shoes.

Unfortunately, I end up crashing into a waiter holding a tray full of dishes.

My heart’s in my throat when the tray wobbles. A second before it falls, a man comes out of nowhere and steadies it. Instead of a category five catastrophe, the only thing that hits the floor is a single glass.

The waiter looks relieved. I, however, am anything but. I’ve only been here a minute and already I’m causing problems. People are starting to stare.

“Thanks, man,” the waiter says. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” a deep raspy voice replies.

“I’m so sorry.” Nausea barrels into me as I bend down to pick up the broken glass. “I should have been paying better attention to where I was going—”

I freeze when a hand wraps around my wrist. “Let the waiter handle it.”

I look up and all the oxygen gets sucked out of the room. I’m staring into the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

“You could hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

I try to respond, but my throat goes dry. Jesus. It almost hurts to look at them head-on, like staring into an eclipse.

Transfixed, I take in the rest of his features. His complexion is tan, as if he spends most of his time in the sun. A jaw sharp enough to slice through metal is covered by a fine dusting of stubble. Not enough to be considered a beard, but a little more than a five o’clock shadow. His mouth has an interesting shape…almost pouty. Like he’s sucking on a lemon. The rest of his face is shielded by a black mask, and I find myself grateful—because if the features I can see are this penetrating, I can’t imagine what he looks like when all the puzzle pieces are put together.

My gaze drifts to his lips again, but the ink peeking out from under the collar of his tux catches my eye. His tattoos are out of place with the rest of his attire…make that the rest of the room.

Oddly enough, it’s comforting. Like I’m not the only one who doesn’t belong here.

Somehow, I manage to find my voice. “It’s not a problem. It was my fault.”  

“What makes you so sure?”

I’m trying to think of how to answer that, but my finger starts throbbing. When I look down, I see blood.  

“Guess you were right.”

I look around for Cain because I know he’s watching me, but the man turns my wrist, examining my finger. “There’s a small piece of glass in there. Does it hurt?”

“Not really.” I grimace. “A little.”

I’m taken back when he brings my finger to his lips. I’m about to inform him that I don’t need him to kiss my boo-boo, but to my utter bewilderment, he places my bloody finger in his mouth.

I’m too shocked to protest and too mesmerized to pull away. The breath I was holding leaves me in one big rush when he starts sucking. He’s so gentle, so tender…it’s almost erotic.

This is without a doubt the most unusual experience I’ve ever had in my life.

“It’s out.”

He stands, and I look down at my finger. It’s barely even bleeding anymore.

“Thank you—” I start to say, but he’s already gone.