Page 79 of Ballad of Nightmares

“Wait—“ Ana grabbed his hand and turned him back around. “Are you asking to introduce me to your friends?” And her stomach clenched both at the fact that he was suggesting it and who she knew his friends were.

Sam’s tongue darted out over his lips as he scoffed, glancing down at the ground and then back at her. “Maybe I am,” he said.

Ana stifled a laugh at the look on his face. “Oh, Sam… I wasn’t aware this was long-term enough for that—“

That smile grew on his lips, reaching his eyes as he staggered in front of her, watching her laugh. He shook his head, his arm slipping around her.

“—The mysterious Sam has friends he wants his mistress to actually meet? Tell me they think they’re as scary as you. They do, don’t they? They—“

His lips slammed into hers, hushing her words and fleeing her heart. She could feel his smile on hers as she opened up to him, allowing his tongue to rake the top of her mouth, his hand to curl in her hair. He pulled back, holding her steady, his eyes dancing, and she softened in his embrace.

“I want them to meet the goddess I’ve talked about for the last few weeks,” he said, his voice low. “They’re very curious.”

“Why do I feel as though I’ll be under interrogation tonight?” she bantered.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “A little light foreplay, baby. I think you’ll enjoy them.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

AS ANA CHANGED clothes, Sam leaned against her kitchen counter. She’d felt his eyes on her the entire time, though he’d remained quiet, and had only moved when she’d come around the opening to show him the lingerie set she’d decided to wear beneath her clothes.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he’d hissed, his feet shifting, arms tightening as he resisted going any closer to her. She tugged on the bra strap, slightly exposing her full breast, and his tongue darted out over his lips, hair falling into his eyes. “Killingme, wicked girl.”

His voice was strained, nearly unbearable, and she could see his cock pushing just slightly against his snug black jeans.

“No before dinner play?” she asked.

“With that on?” Sam shook his head. “No, baby. I’ve been thinking of all the ways to peel that off you, and we don’t have long enough before this opening for me to do that.”

Ana almost laughed. “We have an hour.”

“That’s not nearly long enough,” and the way he said it made her entire body molten.

She blew him a kiss and went to her wardrobe to put on a dress. Not the red dress she’d worn on the festival night, but one similar. A one-shoulder, black bodycon dress that was slightly longer on the right side, along with a pair of tall heels. The exposed shoulder showcased the flowers wreathing up her arm and the side of her neck, though the hemline covered her crown and vines on her right thigh.

Sam made a noise, a restriction in the back of his throat when she came around the corner finally dressed. He gently took her chin between his fingers to tilt her head back for a kiss, swinging his jacket back over his shoulder as he did.

The show was in full stride by the time they arrived. Sam had their tickets scanned, and waiters offered them wine upon their arrival. Ana wondered why Jay hadn’t offered her tickets to this party, or if perhaps it was an artist he’d tried to acquire in the past and hadn’t been able to snag them.

Sam told her his friends were running late, and that one of them would probably make her entrance ridiculous and audacious when she arrived. Ana had a feeling he meant Millie, but she didn’t say or mention that she’d met the Hand already.

The art was abstract, sexual, and made Ana feel like she might blush. Silhouettes and lines of women, men, and combinations of persons. White lines on black canvas, black lines on white canvas, accented by golds and silvers. Splatters that came into shape. There was nothing clean about this artist’s work, but it was gorgeous, and Ana found herself staring at it.

She’d seen this art before, in the hallway of SkyCor on her way to see the Hand.

No wonder the Hand had insisted on this show.

“What do you think?” Sam asked beside her.

“I think this artist sees the body differently,” she said. “Look at the lines and the body types. Skinny, curvy, muscled, or not.” She turned around and looked at the rest of the room. “Everyone in this room can find a portrait and see themselves. It’s beautiful.”

A gruff, remarkably handsome man blundered into the room then, his words ceasing the moment he spotted Ana. His thick dark red mustache curled over his lips, long beard perfectly groomed, hair pushed back off his forehead, and his eyes… she’d never seen such piercing blue eyes.

“Forgive me for anything my friend might say,” Sam muttered against his glass.

Ana frowned. “Why?”

“Just forgive me.”