Page 40 of Promise of Punishment

“Champagne?” I offer them the tray first.

They each refuse, then stand and leave as if my presence is offensive. The action is so abrupt, I find it hard to believe that Nefertiti is Camila. Maybe someone borrowed her mask.

The Lord in the serpent mask whispers into the ear of the woman beside him in a gold goddess mask. She looks at me, then leaves, although it’s obvious she doesn’t want to.

What the hell is up? I don’t smell bad. I haven’t been in the kitchen to attract the scent of food, and my perfume, though subtly sprayed, is a sweet mix of vanilla and jasmine.

“Any for you, sir?” I lower the tray near the serpent Lord, wondering if he’ll leave too.

He takes the tray from my hand and sets it on the marble coffee table. Assuming he wants the tray to himself, I nod and turn to leave, but he catches my wrist.

I glance over my shoulder, stunned for a moment. “Excuse me, sir,” I say as politely as possible and point out, in case he missed it, “I’m not wearing a red feather.”

“Good angel,” he says with a Scottish accent. He used his nickname for me, too, clueing me in that this is my Lord.

Five hours have passed since the party started. I’d been keeping an eye on the wolf Lord as he chatted and flirted with other women, assuming he wasn’t interested in me tonight or anymore. The serpent always leaves with Nefertiti, but she left, dismissively so. This isn’t good.

“You’re wearing the serpent mask. Did you switch?” Please say yes so I don’t get fired. Nothing good can come from Camila’s Lord suddenly taking an interest in me.

“Come here.” He slowly pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him.

My cheeks blaze. We’re doing this here? I glance at the doorway.

“No one will bother us,” he murmurs and kisses my neck. His warm lips feel good, but not enough to distract me from my nerves.

I lean back a little. “Sorry, this just feels exposed. What if someone walks in?”

“They won’t.” He kisses the other side of my neck, his mask brushing my ear.

Instinctively, I plant my hand on his chest. “How do you know?”

“I ordered for us to be alone,” he whispers down to the hollow of my neck and plants a kiss there.

“Oh Lord,” I sigh as tingles race all over my heated body.

He chuckles against my chest, his breath hot. “You smell like a forbidden garden.”

“I like forbidden gardens,” I murmur and let my head fall back. “Especially when they’re abandoned.”

He stiffens but relaxes quickly and presses his hand between my shoulder blades, drawing me up. He kisses the corner of my mouth.

A shuddering breath leaves me at the memory of his kisses.

“You taste forbidden too.” One hand slides to my wig. “I want this off.”

“It’s cemented on,” I tease, but it could be with all the bobby pins.

A smirk tilts his sexy mouth. The dim lighting casts a red glow over the skin visible under his mask.

His fingers tighten on my neck, and his body hardens a little. “What are you staring at?”

“Your incredible lips. You’re an amazing kisser.”

“You’re right. This isn’t working for either of us.” He grips my waist and sets me on my feet.

I stand there dazed by his abrupt change of mood and watch as he rises to his full height, putting over a foot between us. I have no idea what just happened, so I grab the tray, ready to bolt.

“Leave it.” He takes my hand in his huge one and guides me out of the Crimson Chamber and into the ballroom. Lights flicker from the DJ stand, and sparkles shower the room like diamonds.