Page 63 of The Dragon and the Dove

He canted his head. ‘A saint, then.’

‘Afraid I’ll smite you?’

‘Something tells me I’d enjoy it.’ He flicked a whisker on her mask. ‘Kitten. Interesting choice.’

‘Black cat, actually,’ she corrected him.

‘For me?’

‘You wish.’

The smirk returned. ‘I like it.’

Truth.

And she was still not dead.

Sinking into the distraction, she fingered the edge of his mask. ‘Are you on the hunt, wolf?’

‘Always,’ he said, catching her fingers. He curled them in his fist. Not hard. Not quite gentle either. ‘Where are your friends, Valerie?’

Her heart thundered. ‘Where’s your tyrant?’

‘He’ll be along shortly.’

Lie.

She stepped back. ‘No, he won’t.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Because you’re the only one in this ballroom moving like you have a free thought in your head.’

Which is why she had to keep him here.

His brows shot up. ‘Is that a fact?’

‘Unfortunately.’

A pair of Rose-bearers marched their way. Caruso grabbed her by the waist and spun her onto the dance floor.

Sensations flooded her, the press of his hands on her waist making his mood so much easier to read.

Worry. Relief. Frustration.

Desire.

Well.

‘Which begs the question,’ she went on, like he hadn’t just swept her off her feet. Like he wasn’t still holding on to her with the kind of possession she’d only ever read about in romance novels. ‘Why have you been left to your own devices? Are your free thoughts really so impenetrable?’

‘Maybe Andreas isn’t so bad.’

‘Liar.’

He blinked at her.

Conscious of Anouk and Theo still moving through the crowd towards Sera and Ransom, and the threat of discovery mounting by the minute, she pressed her palms against his chest, easily commanding the fullness of his attention. ‘What have you traded to remain the master of your own thoughts, Dantes? Or are they simply too screwed up to mould?