We hadn’t yet tested the theory that we could make love without peril. There had been no discussion, just an unspoken agreement that for now we preferred to stoke the fire between us. We would know when the time was right, and wasn’t it just delicious to anticipate when that would be?
The smoldering expression on his face suggested that maybe my dress that night would be the tipping point.
He stopped directly in front of me. His nostrils flared slightly as his eyes roamed over me, searing me with the possession in his hot gaze. “I’m not going to tell you that you look beautiful,” he said finally.
I sent him a quirky grin. “You’re not?”
He shook his head, but the look he sent me from his heavily hooded eyes made the air around me shiver.
“Then I won’t tell you either.” But he did look beautiful. Oh, how he did.
“‘Beautiful’ isn’t strong enough to describe how delectable you are. It would be a throwaway word. Meaningless.”
The butterflies in my tummy went wild. “I don’t need the word, Haden. I can see how you feel just by looking into your eyes.”
He swallowed hard. “Dance with me?”
He bowed splendidly in his starched tuxedo. I curtsied, transported into another time when courting was so much more graceful. He led me to the floor and we waltzed as if we had no cares but to spin the world.
It was later, as we stood on the dais and accepted our crowns, that I realized Mara had gotten exactly what she wanted all along.
* * *
In the predawn hours after the ball, restlessness hummed through my body, strumming impatient chords of an impetuous song. Something had changed tonight. I felt content and yet suffused with a feeling that I was in transit. That I was about to embark upon something unfamiliar.
I wandered the halls barefoot in my ball gown, hoping to cure my restlessness by discovering something new or at least burning off some of the energy that seemed to be lighting me up from the inside. I began to take stock of my current situation, surprised, really, at how it all seemed to be just as it should be.
So, sure, I was mostly a demon now and queen of an underworld and, yes, my father was still technically in a coma in another realm. My life was different from what it should have been, maybe, but it was a good life.
Donny and Amelia would never let me down and they accepted me even when I changed so much. I had music again—it no longer seemed to be rote and boring, but a place that I could go to explore my own spirit. And I had Haden, the boy who woke me up when I was sleepwalking through my own life. He always saw what I tried to deny about myself, and he always accepted that those were my greatest strengths.
I found myself standing outside his door instead of my own.
Perhaps I would knock and tell him I couldn’t sleep. If he wasn’t tired, maybe we could watch a movie or just listen to music.
Or perhaps not. Maybe my restlessness brought me to his room for a reason. Was I ready for more?
Inhaling deeply, I lifted my hand and prepared to knock just as the door opened. Haden stood, sleep-rumpled and smiling wickedly, as if he’d known all along I would end up at his door.
Perhaps tonight would be the night we fell all the way under.
Perhaps.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gwen Hayes lives in the Pacific Northwest with her real-life hero and a pack of wild beasts (two of whom she gave birth to). She is a reader, writer, and lover of pop culture (which, other than yogurt, is the only culture she gets). Visit her on the Web at www.gwenhayes.com.
BOOKS BY GWEN HAYES
Falling Under
Dreaming Awake
Gwen Hayes, Dreaming Awake
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