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They start on his hand and move up his arm, over his shoulder, across part of his chest, and toward his neck. Not random ink. A whole composition. Marble statues, fallen angels, architectural lines, shadowed arches, and bodies tangled in some Renaissance version of hell. They drape over his muscle like someone carved a cathedral across his skin.
He notices me looking and steps forward.
I step back.
After that little display of violence, I don’t want to be part of anything more.
“Finally afraid of me?” he asks.
“It takes a lot more to scare me, wolf prince.”
His mouth curves slightly, and I hate how that smile looks good on him. “You could’ve introduced yourself before putting your hands on me.”
“Would you have been nicer?”
“No.”
He steps closer, towering over me. My pulse stays steady. Not surprising after that much stardust.
“I know you were with him that night. Julian. In his hotel room. What did he tell you?” he asks, tension in his voice. How does he know? Why does he care?
“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”
“Depends. Are you going to lie to me?”
He keeps his stare on me. I’d love to ignore him, but being Vito’s son makes him more of a problem than I’d like. It’ll be faster to give him what he wants and get him off my back.
“Well, I’ll disappoint you. He didn’t tell me anything interesting. Just bought some stardust, did some of it, and talked about family.”
His eyes stay fixed on me in search of answers I cannot give him.
“His family?”
“Mine. My mother.” I glance away. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Did he say where he was going afterward? Who he was meeting?”
“I don’t keep tabs on my clients.”
I move to pass him, but he shifts just enough to make the corridor feel smaller.
“That’s all?”
“Yes. Do you want to tear through my flesh to see if I’m telling the truth?”
“I can bite gently. All you have to do is ask.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
I slip past him before he can answer. My heart beats slow and even, but only because I took enough stardust in that bathroom to turn a wolf into a sheep. I return to Ezra, who looks relieved when he sees me. I tell him I’m fine.
The club slowly returns to normal. The staff cleans blood from the floor. The DJ plays his set again. Someone orders more champagne. In Midnight City, violence only ruins the party if the body count gets inconvenient.
Then I see Max walk into Le Vertige.
For the first time all night, I actually manage to smile.
He finds our table easily and comes straight to me, all warm skin and lazy grin. His hands immediately settle on my bare back, and the touch travels through me like a match dragging along a fuse. Fuck. I need this more than I thought. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, and I slide my hands around his nape, feeling the pulse of him under my fingers. He’s so alive compared to most supernaturals. Hungry in the right way. My body shivers when his fingertips move over my exposed skin. I don’t want to be here anymore.
