Page 94 of Pretty Savage: Defy

The necklace cuts into my palm while the cross throbs over my heart. I accepted one claim because I thought it would protect the other.

What if I was wrong?

He turns and walks away from me, while the rest of the room toasts to our happiness.

Chapter twenty-three

Two Days Until Bonding

Laurel

I go after him, but the crowd closes around me before I make it ten feet.

Hands catch mine. Arms wrap around my shoulders. Strangers offer congratulations.

I force my mouth into a strained smile and keep moving, answering each person with the fewest words politeness allows. Thank you. Yes, we’re very happy. Excuse me.

By the time I escape the room, Carrson is gone. No dark head disappears through the foyer, and I can’t find his black Zorro mask among the guests spilling into the hall.

One man wears a similar mask, but the sharp hook of his nose rules him out.

I avoid the front of the house, where more people might stop me, and hurry toward the rear corridor instead. The kitchen doors swing open and shut as staff carry trays in and out. The air smells of burnt coffee and chocolate soufflé.

In the hallway between the kitchen and Carr’s office, a server steps directly into my path.

Like the guests, the staff are masked for the ball. His is blue, matching the vest and bow tie under his black tuxedo.

“Would you like a drink, miss?”

He extends a tray crowded with tiny glasses of dark liquor. Port, I think. I barely look.

“No, thanks.”

I move to pass him, but he shifts with me.

I try the other side.

He blocks that one too.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” he asks. “Having a bad night?”

That exaggerated drawl, mocking tone, and the word sugar have my gaze snapping up to his. Bright blue eyes twinkle at me merrily.

“Silas?” I search the skin under his eyes for the familiar teardrop tattoos, but they’re gone. He must have concealed them with makeup, the same way I hid my brand.

I glance both ways down the hallway, but we’re alone. “What’re you doing here?”

“Infiltrating the most powerful secret society in the world.” He lifts the tray. “The tips are surprisingly bad.”

I gape. “Seriously?”

He shrugs, and I know that’s all I’ll get from him.

“I saw your little showdown with Carrson.” His eyes dip to the brand on my chest. “Boyfriend didn’t look too happy.”

“He’s not. I need to see him. Explain things.” My fingers find the necklace, and I swallow back the sob that wants to claw up my throat. “Even then, I’m not sure he’ll forgive me.”

“Here’s the ugly thing about love.” Silas plucks one of the glasses from the tray. “The thing that draws you to someone is usually the same thing you end up fighting about later.”