Page 37 of Phantasm

I sneer, trying to move past him, but he takes up more space than a damn tank.

“Can I have this dance?” he asks.

That’s when I notice the waltz music.

“I don’t think that’s a?—”

“I wasn’t asking.” He guides me to the middle of the room, where men and women twirl and dip.

“I’ve never waltzed in my life.”

“Good thing I’m an expert.”

I give him a critical look before eyeing the hallway longingly. If only he wouldn’t insist on dancing. I could escape this wretched place and forget about Darian and the conflicting emotions he stirs. I could live the rest of my life on the run. It’s what I’ve done for years.

My lips part when Sinclair puts his big hand on my lower back and pulls me close. What is it about men smelling like sex gods in this corrupt world? Why can’t they be gentle on women’s hearts by smelling of sweat and bad oral hygiene?

Taking my other hand, he begins to lead the dance. I stumble over my feet like a newborn lamb. My mom did everything in her power to shield me from the wolves, yet here I am, dancing in the forest beneath a full moon. If she saw me now, she’d squirm in her grave.

“You’ll never survive this world if you run,” Sinclair says, keeping his voice low. “You were born and bred by Exodus royalty. Act like it.”

My pride prickles. “I never asked for this.”

“Whatdidyou ask for, Mrs. Delacroix? To be murdered in cold blood by monsters? Did you think your little stunt at the Reckoning would have made a difference? That your mother would be proud? Your father avenged by your act of rebellion? You’re smarter than this.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, meeting his hard eyes. “You know nothing.”

“I know you’re married to one of the most powerful men in this room. You need to toughen up, or you’ll become chum to the sharks. Look around you, Mrs. Delacroix. They’re foaming at the mouth. Whether you like it or not, you’ve been dragged back into this world.”

“And whose fault is that?” I glare up at him. “I never asked to marry your friend.”

“That may be so, but you looked like a wounded puppy when you watched him with the governor’s wife.”

“I did not—” I stop myself from saying more. Why am I justifying myself to this man? I don’t owe him an explanation.

“Darian is a lot of things,” Sinclair says conversationally, twirling me like a pirouetting ballerina, “but he’s not a cheater.”

“No?” I slam into his chest again, winded and dizzy. “Why did he let that woman paw him?”

“You offended his sexual prowess. Pride has always been your husband’s biggest downfall. While he can murder in cold blood without batting an eye, he doesn’t know how to handle emotions. You’re uncharted territory, Mrs. Delacroix.” He dips me so low my hair touches the floor. “His mission with that little stunt was a success.”

“What mission?” I ask, clinging to his shoulders for dear life so I don’t fall.

He finally straightens. “To make you jealous.”

As we dance by a couple, I catch sight of Darian. The woman is gone, and my husband is staring at me like he wants to douse me with gasoline and set me on fire.

“And nowhe’sjealous,” Sinclair drawls, then spins me again and pulls me back into his arms. “Do me a favor and fuck the rage out of him after this.”

I roll my eyes, finally learning the sequence of steps to this dance. “Should you encourage such toxicity?”

“With all due respect, it’s the best recipe for amazing sex.”

Darian is on his way over within the next second, tense and on edge, as Sinclair dips me again.

“I charge by the minute. You can write me a check.”

“Sorry? A check?”