Page 119 of Shadow Waltz
As soon as I got close to him, I dropped to my knees, hands gliding up the inside of his thighs, feeling the tension and anticipation thrumming through him. Ash’s breath hitched, but his hands found my shoulders, steady and confident, daring me to claim him. He leaned back against the mirrored wall, diamonds at his throat catching the lamplight, making him look untouchable and utterly, achingly mine.
“Luka,” he whispered, but it was more surrender than question.
I undid his belt and zipper, slow enough to torment, my eyes never leaving his. I wanted him needy, trembling on the edge, but I also wanted him to remember exactly who he belongedto when he stepped into that ballroom. His cock sprang free, flushed and already leaking, proof that the danger, the promise, the anticipation of tonight was winding him just as tight as it was winding me.
I ran my tongue over the head, savoring the taste of him, salty and clean. Ash’s head fell back against the mirror, a groan slipping out—rich, rough, a sound that belonged to me alone. I licked a stripe from the base to the tip, watching him shudder, his fingers digging into my hair. He rocked his hips forward, silently begging for more, but I held him in place, mouth just barely touching him, lips brushing the crown, teasing.
“You want this?” I asked, voice husky, hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin.
“Yeah, fuck, yes, I want it,” he managed, and I rewarded him by taking him in deep, letting him hit the back of my throat, letting him feel the extent of my hunger. His gasp echoed in the glass and marble, desperate, reverent.
I set a rhythm—slow, purposeful, taking my time, savoring the taste and weight of him, the way his body trembled under my touch. I let spit drip down my chin, working him with lips and tongue, fingers curling around the base to control every shudder and buck of his hips. I wanted him right there—gorgeous, unraveled, high on power and submission, a king disguised as a pawn for just a moment more.
“Fuck, Luka,” Ash groaned, his voice rough with need, “You’re going to ruin me before the party even starts.”
“That’s the point,” I murmured, mouth still full, eyes burning into his. “I want every bastard in that ballroom to see you glowing. I want you to remember who you belong to.”
He smirked down at me, and it was feral, knowing, the kind of smile that promised he would tear apart anyone who underestimated him tonight. “Show me, then. Mark me. Make me walk out there with your taste on my skin.”
I took him deeper, swallowing around him, letting him fuck my mouth with slow, relentless thrusts until I felt him start to lose control, thighs shaking, fingers tangled hard in my hair. I didn’t back off, just held him there, lips tight, tongue relentless, until he finally gasped my name, eyes locked on mine as he came, heat flooding my mouth. I swallowed everything he gave, licking him clean, savoring the way he sagged against the mirror—undone, breathless, triumphant.
I pressed a final kiss to the tip, tucked him away, and rose, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. His eyes were wild and shining, cheeks flushed.
“Now go out there,” I said, voice dark and possessive, “and make them regret ever thinking they could take you from me.”
We left the suite together—partners, predators, and tonight, bait for the whole damned world.
The ballroom wasa study in controlled opulence, crystal chandeliers casting prismatic light across marble floors where masked figures moved through choreographed social rituals that disguised million-dollar negotiations. The orchestra played classical pieces that provided elegant soundtrack to conversations about territory and murder, love and betrayal, the eternal dance of power that defined our world.
But it was the way people looked at us that confirmed tonight's political significance. I caught fragments of conversation as we moved through the crowd—speculation about Ash's role, assessment of his intelligence, calculation of what his presence meant for the balance of power in New York's criminal hierarchy.
“Prince,” a voice called from behind an elaborate silver mask adorned with sapphires, and I turned to find Helena Von Stein approaching with the predatory elegance of someone who collected broken things for entertainment. “You've brought your pet to play dress-up, I see.”
The deliberate insult in calling Ash my “pet” sent something cold and dangerous unfurling in my chest, but I maintained the diplomatic facade required by the setting. “Helena,” I replied, offering the minimal nod appropriate for someone whose money I respected but whose methods I found distasteful. “Ash is here as my partner, not my entertainment.”
Von Stein's pale eyes moved over Ash with calculating hunger, taking in the expensive formal wear and diamond collar, cataloguing him like merchandise she was considering acquiring. “The rumors about his... recent activities... have been most intriguing. Baltimore showed impressive initiative for someone so recently acquired.”
“Ash has proven himself invaluable to our operations,” I said, letting steel color my voice in ways that made the statement feel like a warning. “His strategic insights have already revolutionized how we approach territorial expansion.”
I watched Von Stein process this information, recognizing that I was drawing clear boundaries around what belonged to me. The woman had a reputation for coveting other people's possessions, but she was also smart enough to understand the consequences of testing my patience.
“How fascinating,” she purred, though her smile never reached her eyes. “Perhaps we should discuss potential collaboration opportunities. I have several ventures that might benefit from such... innovative thinking.”
Before I could respond to what felt like a thinly veiled attempt to poach my partner, another familiar voice cut through the ambient conversation. “Luka,” Adrian Callowaysaid, approaching with Noah at his side, both men wearing formal attire that transformed them from dangerous criminals into something approaching European royalty.
“Adrian, Noah,” I replied, genuine warmth entering my voice for the first time since the conversation began. “I'm glad you could make it.”
Adrian's scarred face was partially hidden behind a mask of black silk and platinum, but his mismatched eyes—one ice blue, the other deep amber—were clearly visible and tracking the tension between me and Von Stein with obvious interest. Noah wore complementary colors, his hazel eyes bright with intelligence behind an elegant mask that enhanced rather than hid his delicate features.
“We wouldn't miss Ash's formal debut,” Noah said, his voice carrying the kind of genuine warmth that made him impossible to dislike. “Though I have to say, the transformation is remarkable. You look like you were born to wear formal attire.”
Ash's smile was grateful and slightly overwhelmed, because genuine compliments were still foreign territory for someone who'd spent most of his life being treated as disposable. “Thank you. Though I have to admit, I feel like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's clothes.”
“The best formal wear always feels like costume until you grow into it,” Adrian observed, his voice carrying traces of aristocratic education mixed with working-class steel. “The trick is remembering that elegance is about confidence, not clothing.”
Von Stein's expression shifted with obvious displeasure at being excluded from the conversation, but she was too politically savvy to create a scene at such a public gathering. “Perhaps we'll have opportunity to continue our discussion later,” she said, directing the comment at me but letting her gaze linger on Ash in ways that made my jaw clench with protective instincts.
After she glided away in search of other prey, Adrian's posture relaxed slightly. “Charming as always,” he said dryly. “I take it her interest in your partner extends beyond simple business networking?”