Page 5 of Heal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #5)

Penny

T he crowd pressed like a living tide, all perfume and heat, and I let it carry me away from him.

Not far enough—never far enough—but distance was the only defense I had.

My wolf disagreed. She paced under my skin, tail up, ears swiveling for the sound of his voice, nose twitching for the scent I was trying— and failing —to outrun. She didn’t care about logic or dignity.

She wanted him. Now.

One conversation. That’s all it had taken. One exchange of words in that low, deliberate voice that slid over my skin like smoke and velvet, seeping into every place I’d kept off-limits. My wolf was lit up, restless, every instinct screaming closer.

My human mind tried to cage her, but every breath still carried him: spice and iron laced with something darker, hotter—like heat lightning before a storm. It pulled low in my belly until my pulse felt like it was beating there instead of in my chest.

I skirted the ballroom’s edges, scanning for a side door, anything that would put a wall between us before I did something irreversible. The mate pull made every step heavier, like wading through molasses. My wolf dragged her claws through my resolve with every inhale, urging me to turn around.

I’d almost made it past a marble column when a hand, cool and ring-laden, caught mine.

“Penny Blackwell,” the voice chimed, all lilting vowels and deliberate sparkle. “You’re not sneaking off, are you?”

Aurelin Vance—Fae, social butterfly, and menace in heels—smiled like they’d just caught me pocketing the crown jewels.

Tonight, they wore shimmering silver robes that caught every light in the room, hair braided with threads of starlight.

Before I could muster a polite excuse, they’d already spun me into the open.

“Darling, you can’t hover in shadows all night. Come—one dance, and I’ll stop pestering you.”

“I don’t dance,” I lied. My voice came out rougher than I meant, scraped raw from talking to him.

“Then consider this a public service,” Aurelin purred. “I’ll make you look effortless.”

Their grip was a silk-wrapped manacle, steering me straight into the swell of the crowd.

The music rose, the beat winding through the air like spellcraft, and Aurelin caught it with the ease of a creature who’d been born to play to an audience.

Their steps were light and showy, their chatter relentless.

“See? You’re already radiant. Don’t you love how the light hits your hair like this? And that dress—oh, scandalous in the best way. You’ll be the talk of the week, you know. Some of the men haven’t stopped staring.”

My wolf bristled. One man, she corrected, her voice sharp in my head.

I barely heard Aurelin. My pulse didn’t match the music—too fast, too sharp.

My wolf prowled beneath my skin, scenting for Gideon, even as I turned with Aurelin.

Every inhale dragged more heat into my lungs, more of that scent that made my mouth water and my body hum.

I shouldn’t be able to smell him from here, not over the riot of perfume and wine, but I did—faint, inexorable, like a thread hooked behind my ribs.

Aurelin dipped me, their laugh glittering, and when they spun me upright, my gaze snapped to the far edge of the floor.

He was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Dancers shifted between us like waves breaking over a rock, but nothing blunted the weight of his attention. The air around him seemed thicker, heavier, like the room itself bent to make space for him.

Every step I took with Aurelin felt like I was moving toward him, even when I was turned away. My wolf’s ears flattened—not in warning, but in focus, every muscle keyed for the moment he’d move.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Aurelin accused lightly, catching my gaze. They followed the invisible tether over my shoulder and grinned like a cat finding cream. “Ah. So that’s where your head is.”

I glared, but it only made their grin sharper. “He’s watching you like you’re the only thing in the room,” they said. “Which is either delicious or dangerous. Possibly both.”

The mate pull tightened, hard enough to make my breath stutter.

“Relax,” Aurelin teased. “You look like you’re about to be eaten alive.”

I might be.

Aurelin spun me again, laughter glittering in their voice, but my gaze remained locked on him.

Gideon didn’t push forward, didn’t shove his way through the crowd like a man in a hurry.

He simply existed there, solid and inevitable, parting the chaos around him without effort.

The press of dancers seemed to bend away from him as though the room itself recognized the claim in his stare.

Aurelin was saying something about posture, about keeping my arms relaxed, but all I could think about were the hands that should be on me instead. My palms itched for his shoulders. My spine knew the exact shape his hand would take at my back. My mouth went dry.

And then he moved.

It wasn’t a rush or a shove—just a simple, unstoppable decision.

One second, Aurelin was guiding me through the turn, the next, their hand was gone—replaced by his: warm and certain, sliding into mine like it had always been there.

His other hand settled low at my back, just enough pressure to take control without caging me.

“May I?” His voice was for me alone, pitched low enough to curl down my spine.

Aurelin didn’t argue. They smiled, all teeth and mischief, and stepped back with an elegant little bow. “She’s all yours, Ortega.”

The sound of his name on Aurelin’s lips barely registered. I was too busy staring up into the kind of focus that made the rest of the room evaporate.

He guided my hand up to his shoulder, fingers firm but unhurried, as if we’d done this a hundred times and this was just where I belonged. His other hand adjusted my stance by degrees until we were moving—not to the music’s rhythm, but to his.

The music swelled around us, but I couldn’t hear it. Not really. The world narrowed to the slide of his breath, the heat of his palm through silk, the subtle flex of muscle beneath his suit. My wolf eased, not in surrender, but in acknowledgment. She matched his breathing. She trusted his lead.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Every step told me exactly where to go, every shift of his weight drawing me closer until there was no real space left between us, only the illusion of it.

We turned slowly, his frame shielding me from the crowd. No one else brushed against me. No one else even came close. It was like we’d been dropped into our own orbit, the rest of the ballroom reduced to blurred color and sound.

The bond hummed between us, subtle but relentless. A flicker of warmth ghosted the side of my neck—not a touch, just a promise—and my knees nearly buckled. He hadn’t bent his head—hadn’t broken that unshakable eye contact—but the idea of him doing it was enough to set every nerve alight.

And then a prickle of awareness shot down my spine. Not from him. Not from the bond. From somewhere else.

The fine hairs at my nape lifted. My wolf stilled, ears flicking toward the sensation. It was like being caught in a shaft of sunlight you hadn’t stepped into—warm, but impossibly focused. I felt it on my skin, the weight of eyes I couldn’t quite place.

Gideon’s gaze flicked up, just once, over my shoulder, protective as a hand closing around mine. As if he’d felt it, too. But when I followed his line of sight, there was nothing—just shadows and movement beyond the crowd.

His attention returned to me instantly, the heat in his eyes still banked but fierce, as if whatever had looked in on us had been dismissed as irrelevant. The moment tightened again, the rest of the ballroom blurring until there were only the two of us.

For a beat, my wolf surged forward. My pulse jumped. My nails dug into his shoulder like I could anchor myself there. His gaze sharpened—just a fraction—but he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat.

Gideon simply held me in the rhythm until my breathing evened again.

He angled us with almost lazy precision, turning my back toward the crowded center of the floor while his own body shielded me from every other touch, every other gaze. The bond thrummed in the air between us, subtle and inexorable, like the bass note of a song only we could hear.

Step. Turn. Glide. I didn’t know whether I was moving because he led me or because my body had surrendered entirely to the pull.

My heel touched polished marble instead of parquet, the shift so subtle I might’ve missed it if my focus weren’t anchored entirely on him. He’d maneuvered us here without my noticing. An exit. A gift. Or maybe a test.

He didn’t release me immediately. His hand stayed at my back, his thumb brushing once—just once—over the ridge of my spine. Not an accident. Not meaningless.

“You move like you were made to fit here,” he said, low enough that his words didn’t have to fight the music. “In my hands.”

The heat in my chest shot lower, sharp enough to steal my breath. My wolf surged forward, tail high, teeth bared in something that wasn’t a threat at all. My fingers curled against his shoulder, nails biting through fine fabric.

“I’m not—” My voice caught, the denial withering before it could leave my mouth.

Gideon’s eyes didn’t waver. “You are.”

The bond thrummed hard enough I felt it in my bones, molten and dangerous. For one perilous heartbeat, I wanted to give in. To stop fighting.

Which was exactly why I stepped back.

“If you leave now,” he murmured, the words curling low and certain, “you’ll still feel me.”

My wolf shivered at the promise in his tone. My human side screamed, “ move.”

The absence of his touch felt wrong—too cold, too open—but I forced it.

Forced my body to turn, to slip sideways into the nearest gap in the crowd before the truth in his voice could root itself deeper.

The crush of people swallowed me fast, Aurelin’s silver robes flashing somewhere to my left, the music surging loud enough to cover my retreat.

My pulse still hadn’t settled. Every place his hands had touched was branded hot, like the shape of him had sunk into my skin. My wolf paced tight, furious circles, snarling at the distance I was forcing between us, pivoting into the narrow spill of dancers that offered a path to the hall.

The mate pull didn’t ease. It clawed down my spine, hooked deep in my ribs, tugging at every step. I could still feel his gaze on me, steady as a tether, no matter how many bodies passed between us.

I slipped past the buffet tables, skirt brushing gilt chair legs, and found a narrow corridor half-hidden behind a velvet curtain. The noise dropped instantly, replaced by the low hum of magic thrumming in the walls. The lighting dimmed to a soft gold, the kind meant to invite secrets.

I took it at speed. Left turn. Right. My heels clicked against polished stone, every footfall an argument with my own instincts. I just needed air. Space. A minute to think without my wolf pressing against my ribs like she’d claw her way out if I didn’t turn back.

The air was cooler here, but it clung to me wrong—thick with faint spice and static, like the moment before lightning strikes. My heels clicked on marble, the sound unnervingly loud in the hush of the corridor.

The hallway should have split into three. I’d walked it when I arrived. But now, the side doors blurred at the edges of my vision, their brass handles seeming…wrong, like they’d been turned sideways in my mind. My wolf prowled, unsettled, the hair on my arms prickling.

Left, right—no. Forward. My instincts didn’t want to go that way, but my feet carried me, anyway.

The air grew warmer as I passed under an archway. Magic. Old, deliberate, and amused. It pressed gentle fingers against my shoulders, shepherding me as if I were being guided into position on a chessboard.

A darker alcove appeared ahead. I spotted the simple oak door before I realized I was already reaching for it—narrow, discreet, half-hidden in the shadow of a towering cabinet.

My palm met the cool brass. The latch gave easily.

Storage, maybe. Somewhere I could shut myself in and get my heart under control.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle, turned it, stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind me.

The space was small—too small for me and the pulse roaring in my ears. The air was thick with cedar and faint perfume, coats hanging in close, shadowed rows along the walls. The scent of wool and winter air wrapped around me, muffling the world outside.

And him.

Gideon stood in the far corner like he’d been waiting for me all along, shadows sliding off his shoulders as he straightened.

The door behind me stayed stubbornly closed, the latch refusing to turn.

A slow, deliberate smile curved his mouth, his eyes burning with heat that stole the breath from my lungs.

The house had locked us in.