Page 22 of Soulbound

"Thank you," she whispered.

Fire spewed through the night, a man lowering a torch from his lips as he blew flame across the gathering. Sebastian turned toward it abruptly, his features tightening into a hawkish mask. The moment was gone.

People wearing garish masks of leering imps, painted satyrs and nymphs swirled across the marble dance floor. Despite the candelabras strewn across the lawn, it was difficult to see, almost as if some strange magic muted the garden.

The crowd clapped and cheered.

"It looks so beautiful," she breathed, doubt filling her. What on earth was Remington worried about?

"It's a mirage," Remington replied, as if he'd heard her. "You of all people should know there are shadows that lurk beneath."

Cleo blinked, centering her vision. A woman swayed toward her, wearing a vibrant red corset, pearls, stockings and little else. Her heart-shaped face seemed to bear a double image, almost as if there were something underneath the pretty doll-like expression, and then a leering face suddenly superimposed the woman's face, just for a second, and Cleo jumped back.

Remington was right. There was more going on than there seemed. Sucking in a sharp breath, she found herself clutching Sebastian's arm.

"What did you see?" he demanded softly, his hand resting against her hip. A light, protective touch, and one she didn't even think he was truly aware of, but it burned through her as though his hand rested on naked flesh.

"I don't know," Cleo said curtly, pushing away from him. "Something. Something not human." The ache between her thighs pulsed wickedly. She pressed a gloved hand to her temples, and tried to take a deep breath. What was wrong with her?

The woman in the corset slid her arms around Sebastian's neck and purred, "Hello, lover."

He swiftly disentangled her arms, looking sharply at Cleo as if for help, and she remembered what he'd said about women.

Morgana had made him entertain her allies. Or perhaps made was not the correct word. She'd put a sclavus collar on Sebastian when he was thirteen, which meant he'd had no choice in the matter. The collar forced him to the will of whoever wore the control ring, and Morgana had offered it at her whim to women who'd wanted him.

"Get your hands off him," Cleo said sharply, for the conflict was clear on his face. He would barely allow her to touch him, for heaven's sake.

The woman blinked at her in surprise, but then a pair of dancers swept between her and Sebastian. Cleo staggered back, and saw Sebastian reaching for her through the sudden press of dancers. At least he was no longer wearing the woman.

She shook her head at him. "I'm fine."

"Cleo, wait for me," Sebastian called.

Skirts twirled as Cleo found herself in the center of the dancers all of a sudden, as if they'd moved in some secret, choreographed sway in order to cut her off from the group. She was lost in a sea of wigs and silk, bodies pressing against her. A hand brushed her hip. Another stroked her arm. But when she spun around to see who had touched her, the dancers receded, much like the sea.

"Cleo!"

She turned back the way she'd come, as Sebastian tried to push his way onto the dance floor. He paused, crushed between two couples, and she saw frustration dance over his face.

"I'll meet you on the other side!" she called, pointing to the wide terrace overlooking the dance floor.

Something caught her eye. A masked face, watching her from across the crowd. Black feathers obscured the man's face, his crow-like mask capturing her attention before he vanished between people.

Cleo paused. She should return to Sebastian's side. But her divination instincts pulled at her.

Follow that man, they whispered.

But when she turned, there was nothing there.

"Isn't there?" came a wicked voice, deep inside her. "Look again."

Her powers were evolving. Ianthe seemed to think that without access to her Visions, her divination talents were trying to come through in other ways. Was this voice some sort of... intuition? It didn't come from without—her wards saw to that. So it had to be coming from within her. She was fairly certain she'd heard it whispering to her in the Labyrinth too.

Where had the stranger gone?

The dancers faded away as Cleo focused, and a single couple swam into view. The man was tall, his black velvet coat cut tightly around his narrow hips, and she caught flashes of his gaze through the mask, locked on her as he twirled the woman in his arms in devastating circles. She caught a flash of his smile, as if he were delighted to have caught her attention, and then he was gone again.

What on earth?