Chapter 21: A Private Invitation
The festival grounds bled with light.
Thousands of lanterns hung from the trees, gold and crimson and deep violet, their flames pulsing in rhythm with the distant drums. The air smelled of roasted meat, spiced wine, and the heady musk of hundreds of immortals already tangled in celebration. Laughter rose and fell like waves. Somewhere beyond the gates, a ritual bell tolled, marking the last hour before the eclipse.
Violet pressed a hand to her stomach. The black silk of her dress shimmered under the lanterns, catching every flicker of light. She'd chosen a black velvet cloak to wear over it, but the heat of the night was already making her regret the extra layer. Her skin glowed with a faint sheen of sweat.
"You're doing that thing again," Cassian said.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you look like you're calculating the fastest escape route." His arm curled around her waist, warm and solid. "You're not going anywhere."
"I'm not calculating. I'm just... adjusting."
Evander hummed, a low sound in the base of his throat. "You've adjusted your cloak four times since we left the carriage."
"It's a lot of fabric."
"It's silk," Evander said. "It weighs nothing."
"It weighs everything."
Cassian laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "She's nervous. Give her a minute."
"I'm not nervous."
"You're nervous."
Violet opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. Mira and Aneara had disappeared into the crowd minutes ago, swept away by a group of fae who'd recognized Aneara from some social function. Violet had watched them go with a pang of something between relief and panic.
Now she stood between two kings, and the weight of every eye in the festival seemed to press against her skin.
"Vi." Evander's voice dropped, a low rough edge. "Look at me."
She turned. His ocean-blue eyes were dark, pupils blown wide despite the lantern light. He studied her face for a moment, then let his gaze travel down her body. The plunging neckline. The curve of her waist. The slits that parted with every breath.
"You've been hiding this dress from me all day," he said.
"I didn't think you'd care."
Something flickered in his expression. Something hungry. "I've been imagining you in it since Mira sent me that message about your shopping trip. Every meeting. Every conversation. Every time I closed my eyes."
Violet's breath caught. "Evander—"
"Come with me."
He didn't wait for an answer. His hand closed around her wrist, firm and unyielding, and he pulled her away from Cassian without a word. Cassian raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile curving his lips, and let them go.
"Evander, what—"
"Not here." His voice was rough, barely a growl. "The gate's not open yet. We have time."
He guided her through the edge of the crowd, past a cluster of warlocks arguing over a ritual circle, past a pair of satyrs whooped at them and made obscene gestures. Violet stumbled after him, her heart pounding. Her dress caught the light, drew eyes, made her feel like prey.
The alcove was tucked behind a massive oak tree, hidden from the main path by a screen of ivy and hanging moss. Rough-hewn stone walls curved around a small hollow, trapping the cool air and muffling the festival sounds. The lanterns barely reached this far. The shadows pooled thick and dark.
Evander pulled her inside and turned.
His body pressed her against the stone before she could speak. The wall was cool against her back, a shock against the heat of her skin. One of his hands tangled in the fabric of her dress at her hip, pulling the silk taut. The other came up to cup her jaw.
His mouth found hers.
The kiss was not gentle. It was all hunger and claiming, his tongue sliding against hers with a possessive urgency that made her knees weak. He swallowed her gasp, pressed harder against her, and she felt the unmistakable heat of his arousal through the layers of his trousers.
She broke the kiss, gasping. "Evander. We're supposed to be at the festival."
"We're about to be." His voice was a low growl, rough with desire. "But I've been thinking about this dress all day. About what's underneath it." His hand slid down from her jaw, tracing her collarbone, the edge of the neckline. "About what I want to do to you before we share you with Cassian beneath the eclipse."
Violet's breath hitched. "That's... that's a lot of planning."
"I'm a strategist." His hand dipped lower, sliding inside the neckline. His thumb brushed her nipple, and she felt it tighten under his touch. "I've been planning this all day."
"Cassian—"
"He knows." Evander's lips traced her throat, hot and damp. "He knows exactly where I'm taking you. He said to enjoy myself."