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Leaving Riven standing with a knife and no key.

How long did we have until Curringham noticed that he now woretwoof his one-of-a-kind pendants?

I needed to do something. Fast.

“I’m getting lightheaded,” I said to the lord as we danced. He dropped his hand, asking if he could help find me a seat, but I refused.

I scanned the room, looking for Riven. He was stalking Curringham along the curved walls of the ballroom. I caught his eye and nodded once. He flung the knife toward me as I walked past. I snapped the handle from the air and tucked the blade against my wrist.

Curringham was standing next to the servant near the staircase, his howls about poor service booming off the marbled steps. I slid the knife up my left sleeve and pretended to reach for a drink on the servant’s tray. I feigned a slip on my skirts. My body fell against Curringham, my hands flat against his chest for support.

“My apologies, sire,” I said in as sultry a voice as I could manage. My left hand rested on his shoulder, as my fingers moved against the first chain. I had no way of telling the fake from the true pendant.

“That’s all right,” Curringham said in a hungry tone I didn’t care for. His hand wrapped around my waist squeezing the flesh on my hip. “I would never let such a beautiful creature fall to her knees, no matter how lovely the sight.” I hated him even more.

My fingers laced around one of the gold chains, but I still wasn’t sure if it was the real pendant or the fake one. I tried the other. It felt different. Almost heavier, like it was gilded in something the other chain was not.

Magic.

How could I sense it? I didn’t have time to wonder. I sliced the metal through with the small knife, pulling it free. It snagged on the other chain.

Curringham stiffened under my touch. His eyes started to shift down his chest.

“There you are,” a dark voice called from somewhere behind me.

Curringham’s eyes followed Riven as he stalked across the floor. Riven pulled me into him, catching my hand and the pendant in his own. He tucked them between our chests as he leaned in and kissed me.

The simmering electricity between us exploded. Something tore through my chest as the air left my lungs. Riven pulled back for a moment, his eyes wide, and I knew he had felt the same explosion rocket through his core. I didn’t turn as Curringham walked away.

All I saw was Riven. His violet eyes bore into my own, heating my skin until I wondered if my dress was truly made of flame. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip, as if tasting the brush that mine had left behind.

I wanted more. I wanted to taste him again, feel that current soar between us.

I pulled him closer, stretching up on my toes to reach him, but I didn’t have to. His body melted into mine, arms swooping behind my back and pulling me against him so forcefully that there was no air left between us.

When he finally kissed me, it was not soft, but hungry. He longed to feel that current ripple through us again too. My free hand found its way into his hair. I pulled gently. Riven groaned into my mouth, nipping my bottom lip so I could feel the sharpness of his fangs.

He tasted like spring morning, fresh and wooden. I relaxed into it, into his warmth. His hand grazed over my arm and nestled beside my cheek. He ended the kiss, eyes swimming with hunger before pressing a gentle peck to my forehead.

“I’ll take the key to Nik,” he whispered into my ear. I nodded, unable to say anything in return and watched him walk up the stairs. My vision blurred as he disappeared down the hall.

I needed to sit down.

I took one of the small seats usually reserved for older Mortals.What was that?I wondered, bringing my hand to my lips. I could still feel the ghost of Riven’s touch like a burn on my skin. I knew he kissed me to distract Curringham, but he didn’t need to kiss me likethat.

I looked up at the stairs. My skin longed for Riven’s touch, ached for it now that I couldn’t see him. I took a swig of a water glass, my eyes refusing to leave the balcony.

“Where’s George?” a tall man asked two of his peers. They were nestled at a table along the wall.

“I’m not sure,” a short, round man answered. “I haven’t seen him since we were speaking with the prince.”

The prince?

My body turned to ice. The water glass cracked in my hand.

Damien. He never missed a party. Even when his father had ordered him to stay in the capital. My stomach churned violently as I scanned the room looking for the prince. The scars on my back burned.

We needed to leave. Damien was proud, too proud. He wouldn’t leave without trying to flirt with the date of a Dark Fae. One look at my dress, one whisper of me on the lip of some lord he didn’t like, and I’d become his next challenge.