FORTY-EIGHT
You look okay, I guess,” Jo told Rune, though she’d barely recovered from her first glimpse of him in formal fey-wear: fitted fawn pants, black boots, and a tailored coat of some unusual cream-colored material that molded over his muscles.
He was long, lean, and elegant, but with that hard-core layer underneath the polish.
When she could drag her eyes off his obvious wood, she noticed other details. His hair was tied back, revealing the shaved sides of his head and his fey ears. Black was forking out all over his eyes as he stared at her. “You . . . just . . .”
“Rune, I did warn you. Get yourself together, man.”
His gaze met hers. His lips curled into his slanted grin, and she sighed.
“Ah, Josephine, you’re one to talk. I knew I was wearing you down.”
“Whatever, old-timer.” She wished she could deny that more convincingly, but he was.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you without your bullet necklace.”
“I don’t need to wear it anymore.” It’d served its purpose.
“Just so.” He donned his bow and strapped on his quiver, both of which turned invisible. “If we survive tonight’s ball, I’ll take you somewhere you’ve never been. A favorite place of mine. We’ll drink wine, and you can stargaze to your heart’s content.”
Stargaze? With another person? “I’d love that! Even more incentive to survive.”
He offered his elbow. “Come.”
She took it, and an instant later they arrived in a moonlit garden. “Where are we?”
“Titania. I can’t have everyone seeing my mode of travel, so I traced off-site. The palace is just ahead.” He pointed out a castle not far in the distance.
The structure looked like something from a fairy tale, aglow in the night, with towering spires and snapping flags. One entire wing was made of glass, its facets sparkling like diamonds. Strains of orchestral music reached them, and exotic flowers scented the warm air.
Arm in arm, they started forward. Closer to the castle the walk grew more crowded with formally attired Loreans of all species. Back into the Lore I go. . . .
He escorted her up a set of stairs to the torchlit entrance. Liveried demons manned the doors. Their polished horns shone in the firelight as they bowed to arriving guests.
Rune handed one his invitation, then ushered her to a landing overlooking the event.
She gasped at the sight. The ballroom was as large as an auditorium and made completely of glass. Huge chandeliers dangled from a soaring dome. The center of the transparent ceiling framed the moon above. The walls had been frosted to resemble leafy woodlands, glaciers, flames, and oceans.
Below, a gleaming glass dance floor was already packed with immortals. In the background, musicians played.
She was here at a ball—without the comforting security of a shell. Yes, this was real life, and yes, she was truly living, but she felt naked. The tall, graceful females below all wore gowns in soft colors—a sea of blue pastel, dotted with pinks and seafoam green. “I stand out like blood in water.”
“All the more with that choker.” He’d gazed at her neck so often, she could swear he was the vampire. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“If I were a guy and I had to choose one girl here, I’d pick me hands down. But you yammered on about the fey style so much, maybe you like that better.” She tapped her chin. “Rune, maybe you are an idiot.”
“If you couldn’t tell by my speechless reaction earlier, you nearly put me to my knees. You’re easily the sexiest female here. And you’re with me alone.”
“I’m more used to being inside a shell for gigs like this.”
“You’re welcome inside me.” Over the last two weeks, he’d concealed her in his body a couple of times.
“And if I get too excited and embody?” She still had trouble controlling her ghost-mode.
“Then you’ll have to remain by my side, where I can show you off.” He led her to a grand staircase.
“Are these things always so popular?”
He nodded. “Especially during an Accession.”
Had these Loreans attended to find their mates? Or their foes? “So ballpark this for me. How many here have you slept with?”
“I don’t think you want to know that. But I’ll tell you I want to sleep with only one here.”
Awww. He was good.
As they descended the steps, he said, “You’re attracting even more admirers than I am.”
She’d noticed guys whipping their heads around to check her out, females too. “Good thing you never get jealous.”
He raised his brows. “Shall we dance?”
“I thought we were here to fight.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “And I can’t dance.”
“I’ll lead. Just go with it, love.”
She froze. “You called me ‘love.’ ”
“Nonsense. I called you ‘dove.’ ”
She squared her shoulders. “Bullshit. You said ‘love.’ ”
“I’ve told you dark fey aren’t capable of that, but imagine whatever you like, dove.”
“If we were in my motel room, I’d tell you to fuck off until you slammed me into a wall.”
“I recall that night often.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “In lieu of that, we could ballroom dance.”
“Same diff, I guess.”
He took her in his arms and swept her onto the floor. At first Jo was awkward, but as soon as she let him lead, a miracle happened. “Look at me! I’m a wicked good dancer. You’re passable too.”
His lips curled. “You’re wicked good at everything.” Then he grew serious. “Do you know how proud I am of your runes?” His gaze was so solemn.
How could she resist him when he was like this? When the entire experience was like a dream?
I’m falling headlong. . . .
So many things reminded Jo of that grand wedding she’d crashed. She felt like a bride in her elegant gown. The music wasn’t too dissimilar. The dancing seemed about the same.
She peered up at Rune. He’s my guy. My groom. When his eyes held hers, she didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling.
Adoration.
The message must’ve been received, because he gave her a nod, then swallowed, as if with nervousness. Yeah, this is the real deal, Rune. And she suspected he was falling right beside her.
As he twirled her around the floor, she gave herself up to the night. Trusting him, she leaned her head back and simply felt.
Giddiness. Dizziness. Joy. She almost ghosted from pleasure. She was living a fairy tale; she never wanted it to end—
“I’m about to get blitzed.” His torso muscles tightened under her palm.
Jo raised her head. “Like trashed?”
He murmured, “No, rushed.” He scanned the crowd. “Fifty swordsmen are about to descend on me.”