Page 27 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

He still did not look down though. When I got the nerve to glance up, his jaw was tight. I thought those fingers curled in just a tiny bit against my naked flesh.

A servant led us down a long hall that opened onto what I assumed was a ballroom. We found ourselves in a huge, high-ceilinged chamber lit by tables full of fat, black pillar candles, below multiple levels of balconies.

There were people on every level, most of them masked and leaning over the railing to intently watch whatever they saw below.

The floor of the ballroom had been curtained off by long, pale silken sheets suspended along wires or ropes.

The music continued to thrum and pulse as we passed through an opening in the material.

We followed the silent servant down a central corridor, and I began to see shadows writhing against the fabric. They were couples lit from behind, creating a sort of show. Their bodies writhed and slipped against each other to the beat of the music and soft moans.

In some places, I could see multiple people, their limbs tangled together, heads lowered or thrown back, doing any number of things to each other.

I should have been embarrassed. I should have looked away. I simply could not. I drank in the sights, the sounds, the smells of sweat and lust all around me. Most of my focus still, however unlikely, on that nearly chaste feel of his fingers curled around my side.

The servant held aside another curtain as we reached the end of the hall.

It opened onto a glittering party of well-dressed revelers, most of them in masks. Some were dancing to the pulsing music. Others were gathered around the many long couches, settees and tables, in various states of dress and undress, in various states of ecstasy and camaraderie.

The servant bowed and retreated, having delivered his charges to the party.

Without another look, Io swept me to the side, behind a large pillar next to more of those flowing curtains.

"What in the name of the gods are you wearing?" he hissed, my back against the pillar as his body hovered over me. He was close—very close.

I knew what he meant; the dress. He had not missed it from the first moment I removed my cloak. He was just playing the role of someone unperturbed by it.

I pretended not to understand as I saw his gaze slide downward only for a heartbeat to where the sides of my breasts were clearly visible in the plunging neckline.

"What ever could you mean, My Lord?" I was surprised by the husky, breathless sound of my own voice.

"You know exactly what I mean, Sera. Why are you..." he swallowed, his eyes glued to mine as though he would not dare to look down.

He was angry.

What right did he have to be angry when his own guard had dressed me that way? His own female guard had done it. I didn't have time to consider whether she had done it to embarrass me or to embarrass him as I spat, "It's only skin, Io."

"It is a fucking lot of skin, Sera." He may as well have slapped me for the disgust I saw in his expression.

"Oh, fuck you, Io. It's my skin. I'll do what I want with it."

Just then a man and woman sauntered up to us. The man reached out to remove an invisible piece of lint from Io's sleeve. I suddenly had the image in my mind of Io breaking his fingers for the gesture.

But the woman, wearing a golden fox mask, leaned toward me. She ran a hand down my arm. "Care for some extra players in your little game?" she asked.

"No," Io said sharply, sliding his hand up my arm to swat her off like you might a bothersome insect.

"Oh, so territorial," she crooned. She turned to the man at her side. "Darling, why don't you ever look like that when someone touches me?"

Io put his arm behind me and guided us away as the man laughed. "Because, my dear, I know how much it pleases you to have some strangers cock between your sharp little teeth. It is deep and abiding love, you see."

Their shared laughter died away behind us, drowned out by the music as we slid through the crowd.

A servant handed us glasses of sparkling wine. Io sniffed both before he would allow me to drink.

I drank mine greedily, my mouth dry and my mind more than a little in need of courage.

I expected him to lead me out of the party, so it surprised me when he steered me to a gold settee and took a seat at my side.

He surveyed the crowds—for what or who, I wasn't certain.

He'd barely explained it to me, and the questions I normally would have asked on the way had been swallowed up by my excitement at the prospect of coming.

I watched the dancers in front of us while that music seemed to make a beat in my chest right alongside my heart. It felt like it resounded off my very bones butting up against the anger that was still coursing through me.

I wanted to dance. I'd never done more than formal ballroom dancing, but as I listened to the drums, it made me want to move.

Many of the dancers were not even doing anything wicked. They were simply dancing—in a primal, sensual sort of way, of course—but with what looked like their friends.

My anger started to fade away as I continued watching. I glanced at Io, whose arm was draped behind me on the settee, still a bit possessively, but without touching me in any way.

His jaw beneath that glittering mask was tight, but I noticed the way his fingers behind my right shoulder tapped out the rhythm of the music almost absently.

The settee had been empty, but within a few minutes of sitting, like sharks who had sighted some prey, the people began to angle our way.

Most turned away after a growled word from Io, but the more persistent were given that dark look that sent them scurrying off.

When an entire group of them bounded out from the dance floor and plopped down on the settee beside us, a dark-haired woman all but fell into Io's lap.

At the same time, an unmasked young man that I faintly recognized, breathed a horrid breath of alcohol into my face. "Well, hello there, sweet bird," the man slurred, reaching out to flutter the feathers of my mask.

I heard Io's groan of displeasure at the same time I felt his arm slide down to lift me smoothly onto his lap.

I barely had time to think as the dark-haired woman was forced back and Io slid me down to settle me between his knees.

The familiar young man abruptly turned his attention to the woman on his other side.

Io leaned forward against my back, his lips next to my ear. "I'm sorry, Sera. They won't leave you alone if it does not look like you are thoroughly mine."

Thoroughly mine. I shivered.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I leaned back against him in answer. He seemed to relax then, leaning back as one arm encircled my waist, the other going back up to rest along the back of the settee.

It was just a show, I told myself. And it was important. He was looking for someone. Castille, or someone who knew him. Some answer to who was taking the Withian children.

It didn't necessarily feel like a show, though, as I lay against him, feeling his breaths lifting me, the heat of his body behind me.

I watched the dancers in front of us. Eyes had strayed to us from among them and from among the crowds gathered watching the dancing.

The eyes, my dress, the music, the dancing, his frustratingly still fingers along my waist, all seemed to coalesce into one intense urge to move.

I dared not, even as one of his fingers began to tap out the beat on my side.

He had wanted me before. I knew he had. He told me so. His desire for me had been clear in his eyes, just as it was in his words. If you want me as badly as I want you, he'd said.

I did, more perhaps, since he seemed able to keep his body still and I simply could not.

I swallowed the last of my wine and leaned forward to sit the glass onto the floor where he had earlier discarded his.

When I straightened, I put my hands onto his thighs on either side of me. I felt his muscles tense beneath my fingers. His legs were so...fucking solid.

When I leaned back against his chest again, it was with a pressure that had not been there before.

He tensed again as I pressed back into him, feeling his unyielding body behind me.

The arm that had slid away as I bent to discard my wine glass, returned, but instead of laying across my waist, his fingers curled around my hip.

All the blood in my body rushed to that one spot, those fingers at my side, holding me still, I realized.

I pushed against them, sliding my body up, almost infinitesimally, so that I could press myself down on him. His fingers at my hip tightened.

Masked faces watched me from the crowd. They should have deterred me.

But they did not know who I was. I was not their princess or their queen.

I was not even Sera. I was some creature of need and desire who felt the wetness between her thighs and knew what it signified.

I wanted him so badly I felt like I might catch fire and burn to ashes in his lap.

So, I moved again, even as I heard his hiss of warning in my ear.

I ignored him, hooking my arm behind his neck. I raised myself up until I was fully on his lap, until I felt the long, rigid length of his erection on my backside.

Even as a jolt of fear at the size of it went through me, even as the eyes of the crowd grew darker, hungry, even as some of them began to crowd closer, I moved against him.

A soft moan escaped my throat as his other arm came around me, not stopping me this time, but laying against my lap to press me more fully down onto him.

His other hand cupped my thigh, fingers sliding across the thin gown, down my inner leg. I wanted his hand to move up, so I grabbed his hand, aching to guide him higher. But I lost my nerve as his fingers continued their almost lazy caress of my leg.

I pressed down against him again, frustration warring with the fire licking through my blood.

His answering growl in my ear sent shivers through me. "Not like this, Sera. Not with all their eyes on you."

"Then take me somewhere," I nearly begged.