Page 161 of The Ember that Tethers

And when the graves were finally covered, and the moonlight came to take their souls to Deimos, they dragged their weary bones back to Rensburrow, Dimitri’s broken body in Gaelen’s arms.

CHAPTER FIFTY

EMMERY

Tentatively, Emmery took the man’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. Her legs trembled, that raging fire in her blood still molten, and her heart thumped against her ribs, angry and hurt. Feeling foolish, she adjusted her clothes the best she could, pulled her dress back over herself, but couldn’t look away from the man standing before her.

His smile held none of Dez’s sunshine quality, and the longer she stared, the more it morphed into a shadowy imposter.

But as she studied his green eyes, she couldn’t hold back the question as it bubbled up her throat. “Shade?”

“Most call me the Treasurer,” the man purred and stole her hand to press his lips there. “But you may call me whatever pleases you.”

Emmery barely heard him, her stomach tangled in knots, as her eyes traced the nearly identical face to Destonne’s, down to the tiny scar on his eyebrow. The similarities struck her silent and she studied him like a damn fool.

Evidently, Dez had been right about the labyrinth’s terrors and trickery following them here, because they stood before her, her hand draped in his.

“You are quite a rare find. And you and your lover put on such a charming show for me,” he continued. His chuckle rumbled against the back of her hand as he kissed it once more. A shiver wriggled beneath her skin and, this time, when she pulled away. her lip curled back.

“Not my lover,” Emmery muttered under her breath. She searched over her shoulder for Dez but found him nowhere.

Emmery lifted her fingers to her lips. She could still taste him there, still feel him, and her core tightened, that space between her legs still painfully wet, and, humiliatingly, aching for him.

The Treasurer’s words snapped her from her thoughts. “It would please me greatly if you would join me in my room.”

Attempting her best seductive voice, she said, “The pleasure is all mine. Please lead the way.” It sounded ridiculous in her own ears, but his answering grin told her it was convincing enough.

He led her to a room with transparent glass, but Emmery snagged his hand and stopped him.

“Is there somewhere more private?” she asked. She threw a glance over her shoulder at the throng of people. “I’m a bit … shy.”

This seemed to please him and sparked another imposturous smile.

“Very well,” he said. “This way.”

The next room had a solid door, and between the pulsing music and distracted people, surely no one could hear anything inside. Perfect.

The Treasurer strolled through the doorway as if he owned the universe and perched himself on an upholstered bench swathed in burgundy velvet. His gaze undressed her and his tongue swept over his lower lip.

Emmery’s pulse thumped in her ears as the door snapped shut behind her. Only three candles lit the room, and the scent of roses overwhelmed her. While she usually loved that smell, now bile climbed her throat.

He gestured to the spot beside him in an invitation. Emmery tiptoed across the room, acutely aware of how he watched her: beast-like and assessing, like he sought a way to break her. The foreign expression on Dez’s face caught her by surprise and made the room sway. He’d never looked at her that way, and surely never would.

The trumpet still puppeteered her too-hot, sensitive skin, and she needed to pull herself together. But as she stared at the Treasurer across from her, all she could see was Dez. But rather than arousal it …hurt.

Emmery shoved the feeling away and sat, her hip butted up against his. She toed off her shoes and adjusted the stockings and undergarments Dez had nearly torn off. And, really, she would have let him. She would have let him have all of her. Would have stupidly handed over everything she had to give.

The Treasurer's hand followed the seam of her stockings and slid up and up. Emmery’s back arched, but it didn’t feel like Destonne’s hand. Didn’t hold that fire he’d injected into her veins.

“I have never seen you before. What do I call you, beautiful creature?” he asked, his voice nearly indiscernible from Dez’slilt, and slow, seductive cadence. His fingers danced along her bare thigh above the band of her stocking.

“Whatever pleases you,” she parroted back. A snake coiled beneath her shy smile.

Emmery hummed again and bit down on her lip as the Treasurer pulled her into his lap, her hips gripped in his hands. A gasp slipped from her at the forwardness of the gesture, but she had to play along.

However, as she stared into his familiar green eyes—Shade’s eyes—a swirl of emotion choked her. She had really forgotten him as she let Dez put his hands all over her.

His eyes hooded as he scooped her into his arms and strolled to the bed. Emmery leaned into his neck and inhaled his scent, similar to Dez, but not quite right. Everything about him was slightly off. A little sharper, colder, mixed with a tinge of dark desire in a deep velvety, musk. And no mint.