Curious, I cross the room, ignoring the unwanted stares of those I pass, both men and women, as I make my way toward one of the beautiful, gilded cages. It’s only when I’m up close that I can finally make out the dark creatures fluttering around inside. Large moths from the looks of it, and on their backs is a strange marking that resembles a skull.
“Acherontia atropos.”
The deep, rich sound in my ear sends a flutter through my chest, mirroring that of the moths’ wings against the cage. My blood sizzles, and the air seems to grow thinner. I turn to find a tall, handsome figure rounding the cage from the other side.
Wearing a demi-mask, and a perfectly-tailored black brocade coat over a gray vest and white shirt beneath, Lucian looks both handsome and diabolically wicked, like something out of a gothic novel. “It’s named after Archeron, the river of pain and sorrows, and atropos, eldest of three fates who cut the thread of life. More commonly known as the death’s-head hawkmoth,” he continues, and my cheeks flush at the sight of him. The mask completely covers the scarred half of his face, leaving only the too-handsome side of him exposed. “People once believed they were an evil omen.” He runs his fingers along the outside of the cage. “Two moths were discovered in the bedchamber of Mad King George the Third during a bout of psychosis. It’s said the incessant squealing sounds they made plagued on his weakened mind.”
“And you keep them in beautiful cages as pets.”
“I appreciate things that others tend to fear and cast off as evil.”
Stepping to the side, he lifts one of the candles from a cluster on a nearby table and holds it up to the cage. The moths flutter and climb the spindles of the cage toward the flickering light.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” he asks, keeping the candle just far enough away so as not to harm the insects inside. “The way they flock to torment. Death. A fatal attraction.”
“Can you blame them? Fire is warm and inviting.”
“How tragic, to crave the very thing that can destroy you. If I opened this cage, we’d watch them burn alive.”
“That’s … macabre when you put it that way.”
Twisting around, he sets the candle back down alongside the others and turns his attention back to me. “You chose this dress?” Beneath the shimmer of appreciation in his eyes lies a shadow of annoyance that mirrors the tone of his voice.
“You don’t like it?”
“Everyone is looking at you.”
Over my shoulder, I glimpse a few gazes in my direction, one of whom comes from the man I followed inside. “This bothers you.”
“Yes.” He steps around the cage until he’s standing beside me, and a shiver skitters down my back when his lips feather my ear. Heat blooms inside of me, the dress suddenly too hot and tight against my skin. “It’s as if they want to consume you alive. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, like the moths to the candle.”
I turn just enough that our lips nearly touch. “You were looking at me, too.”
Scintillating amber eyes dip to my dress and back. “If I suspected any one of these bastards were thinking the same thing I was when I first saw you, I’d kill them all.”
“I’m too young for you, remember?”
“You are.” The gentle brush of his knuckles along the edge of my neck has my heart hammering inside my chest. “And too tempting.”
“What torture that must be.”
“You have no idea. Particularly with how ravishing you look tonight.”
“Then, why put yourself through it?” I glance around the room at the more scantily clad women, most likely hired as entertainment for anyone who came alone. “There seems to be plenty of women your age here. Why trouble yourself, at all, with me?”
“I ask myself the same question. Somehow, the more I stay away, the more I can’t. That’s the tragedy in all of this. The ceaseless draw of the flame.”
“For a ruthless businessman, that’s awfully undisciplined of you.”
“Ruthless, indeed. And curious as hell.”
“What kind of curiosities plague the mind of a devil?”
The richness of his chuckle hits a nerve somewhere inside of me, the mask emphasizing an unearthly beautiful smile that sends goosebumps across my skin. Coming to a stand behind me, facing away from the crowd, he presses his steel chest into my back, once again reminding me of his size. Every cell in my body flares to life, when he slides his hand down my arm and threads his fingers in mine, the strength in them clasped around my more delicate bones. At the scratch of his mask against my neck, I tilt my head, allowing him full access. “What I wouldn’t give to peel this dress off of you. Slowly.”
“They’re watching us, aren’t they?”
“I approached you intentionally, Isa. I’d hate for anyone to make the mistake of thinking you’re fair game.”
“Including you.”
“Especially me.”
Desire simmers in my blood, when his lips press against the pulsing vein in my neck. “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re the most irresistible.” He kisses his way up my neck to my ear, where he nips my lobe, and I squeeze my fingers in his.
“I gave you the green light already. What more do you need?”
“That’s just it. What I want, and what I need, are two edges of the same blade.” With my head still tipped, he licks the shell of my ear. “I want you to tell me if any of these men proposition you tonight. Do you understand?”
“Why? What will it mean, if they do?”
“That’s my concern, not yours.”
“And if I welcome it?”
His fingers tighten around mine, and he exhales a sharp breath against my throat. “That will be my concern, as well.”
I hate that I’m putty in this man’s hands. That all it takes is a few poetic words and expert placement of his lips to leave me panting like an eager puppy.
“I meant to ask you. You could’ve had anyone play for you tonight. Why me?”
“Anyone else wouldn’t have been half as enthralling to watch as you.” With a tug, he leads me away from the cage, toward the piano.
The members of the orchestra set down their instruments, and the room falls quiet, as I take my seat on the bench.
Fingers to the keys, I exhale a shaky breath and close my eyes. The first notes of Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 echo through the room. Some of the partygoers have gathered around the piano. Others resume their conversations, but I keep on playing.
Through the crowd, I find Lucian standing in a circle of men, staring at me over the rim of his drink. The most handsome and intimidating of all, even with the mask concealing half his face. He remains riveted, while the men lean in, obviously prattling on as he ignores them.
The intensity of his eyes is too much, and I have to look away, for fear of faltering in the song I’ve chosen to play. At another glance, I see he hasn’t conceded so easily. His gaze remains unmoved. One of the men beside him pats his chest, breaking into laughter. It’s painfully awkward to watch when Lucian sips his drink, not bothering to share in the man’s hilarity.
The way he watches, like we’re the only two in the room, makes me wonder what he’d do right now, if that were truly the case.