ARIS’S WARNING STRUCK LIKE A THUNDERCLAP. VULTURES WHOSE eyes had
gleamed only moments prior scattered like mice, bowing low before fleeing the scene. All but Diana, that is, for she was too stunned to move.
Aris stood before her in a suit of rich navy, golden trim along his lapel. His mask was a bewitching creation of black-and-gold papier-mâché that cut stark angles across his face and made him appear every bit an austere prince looking down upon a ballroom full of his inferiors. He was more barbered than Blythe had seen him in a long while, his blond hair neatly coiffed and his well-tailored wardrobe making Blythe’s heart stutter at the sight of him. Even in his severity—or perhaps because of it—Aris was utterly handsome.
He did not further scold Diana. He did not demean her with cruel names or draw any more attention to the situation. Aris was fire set ablaze in a consuming rage as his eyes devoured the girl, feasting upon her flesh and bones. His touch, however, was gentle against Blythe’s skin as he took hold of her hand.
“Come,” he said, fingers threading through hers. “We’ve no business associating with such a creature. I’ve known children with less abysmal manners.”
Even if Blythe had wanted to, there was no point arguing. Aris burned as hot as a star as he led her past a stunned Signa and through a throng of guests who parted as they made their way to the ballroom. There was a saunter in his step that Blythe had grown accustomed to, for Aris treated every domain he entered like he was the most esteemed guest.
It had been a long while since Blythe set foot on this ballroom floor— the night of Lord Wakefield’s death, specifically. It smelled of sugar and spruce trees, and had been decorated with shimmering amber candles and holly with a bow tied around every marble pillar. Thorn Grove knew how to put on the charm when it wanted to, but given its record of unsavory situations, Blythe wondered why so many people still attended these parties. She could only chalk it up to morbid curiosity, a twisted desire of the ton to not miss whatever scandal might happen next.
“You’re here.” Blythe didn’t mean to whisper it. In fact, she hardly recognized that she had until Aris acknowledged the words with a tightened grip as he carved a path toward a dance floor bathed in the warmth of golden candlelight. Most guests hurried out of their way, someone in a fox mask making such haste that their shoulder knocked into Blythe’s. With the heat of Aris’s body beside her, the person felt so cold that Blythe shuddered. “Of course I am.” Aris’s hand slipped around her waist, drawing Blythe into his chest as the music of a waltz swelled. “As if I’d leave you alone
with such vultures.”
The crowd gave the two a wide berth, and tucked there against Aris, Blythe could not help but be reminded of the memory of him and Life dancing in the forest glade. She shut her eyes as it played in her mind, not like something that happened to a stranger centuries prior, but to her just last week.
“I had no choice but to leave,” she told him, mostly to distract herself from Life’s memories as they beat against her skull. “Your temper tantrum was making Wisteria inhospitable.”
The right side of Aris’s jaw ticked. “I came to Thorn Grove the night you left to ensure that you were safe. But what I don’t understand is how you managed to leave in the first place.”
“Neither do I,” she answered honestly. “It’s your magic that created these ridiculous rings to begin with. Shouldn’t you be the one figuring that out?”
“Enough,” Aris growled low in her ear, sending a wave of shivers down her spine. “No more arguing. Five minutes alone with you and I’m already wondering why I ever thought an apology was worthwhile.”
His words, callous as they were, held no bite. In fact, Blythe smiled at them, genuinely this time.
“If you’ve come to apologize, I won’t stop you.”
He leaned his head back, a war of emotion on his face. “Mila’s room is not a place I visit often. It’s a part of Wisteria that rarely shows itself to me, and for good reason. It’s all I have left of her, and it remains well protected.”
“I understand,” Blythe whispered. “Had I known how much it would hurt you, I would have never touched that mirror. I shouldn’t have even been in that room to begin with.”
“No,” he agreed, “you shouldn’t have. Though how I handled the situation left much to be desired. Especially considering how the rest of our day went.”
Blythe pressed closer, refusing to let him see the blush that was warming its way onto her cheeks. Despite all that was going on in her world, she’d been unable to cast aside the memory of their bodies and everything that had nearly happened between them. “I told you already that I understand, Aris. We don’t have to discuss it.”
“I would prefer that we did.” There was an edge to his voice that Blythe mistook for anger. Though when she dared a look at him, peeking up beneath her lashes, she saw that Aris looked every bit as flustered as she felt.
“I have no expectations of you,” she told him softly.
“I’m aware. I’ll only say this once, Blythe, so do not ask me to repeat myself—I felt something that night that I have not felt in a very long while.” His thumb skimmed her waist as Aris pulled her far closer than what was considered polite for company. “It took me by surprise, and I fear that I may not have responded as well as I should have.”
It was the first time she’d heard her name upon his tongue, and Blythe nearly melted into the sound of it. Her body was a traitor, overly aware of the press of his chest against hers. Of the way his breath rose the hairs along her neck, and the way she ached to arch closer against him.
“I was taken by surprise, too” was all she could trust herself to whisper. “You know I despise you.”
“And you know that I despise you,” he echoed, a smile slanting his lips. “It’s a conundrum, and one that I fear we will have to tend to.”
“Indeed.” She wished at once to have Diana’s fan so that she might cool herself. Her body was on fire, the world blurring around the edges as he
spun her. “For one thing, we can be sure not to put ourselves in such a compromising position again. Especially when we’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’ve had three days to get myself thinking clearly.” Aris leaned in, his lips so near to her ear that she felt them grazing her neck. “And I admit that my suggestion for ‘tending’ to the problem is far less wholesome. Assuming, of course, that you might be willing to try at least one more compromising position.”
Blythe didn’t dare choke in the middle of the dance floor. Not when there were a dozen eyes dissecting her. She imagined what anyone who saw them must think, for there wasn’t a single soul in attendance who could say that Aris wasn’t enraptured by his new bride. Perhaps even a little too enraptured, if the few quiet giggles were any indicator.
This time, however, Blythe paid them no mind. If they wanted to watch, then she’d be sure to give them a show. She didn’t know why—perhaps it was out of her own desires, or perhaps it was due to Life’s newly awoken memories leaking into her—but Blythe pressed onto her toes to capture Aris’s lips with hers, losing herself in a kiss that set her body ablaze. Her hunger for him was more potent than ever, and she craved nothing more than his touch.
Burn was too casual a word, for Blythe did not burn for this man; she incinerated. And in that moment, she knew there would be no getting it out of her system. No satiating the hunger.
Blythe was breathless when Aris broke the kiss, stilling their bodies as the music stopped. She was on fire, more alive than ever, only her world did not cease its spinning even when he stilled them. Breathless, Blythe swayed as the crowd softened into a haze that had her smile waning. She stumbled backward, only managing to keep on her feet because of how tightly Aris clutched her hand.
“Blythe? Blythe, what’s wrong?” he demanded, but the words were muddled. She tried to answer. Tried to give voice to so much as a single word, but instead her hand clasped instinctively around her throat. It felt like she was being roasted from the inside out.
Blythe’s eyes flew toward the corner, searching the shadows for Death. What she saw instead was a flash of red hair and the gilded face of a fox mask as she fainted upon the ballroom floor.
