I stared at him, stunned, into those cold, impenetrable eyes.
Gustav let out a loud, drunken laugh. He finally dragged his gaze off me, raised his glass in our direction and said in a slow, slurred, satisfied tone,
" You two look good together."
Ashur didn't care about my shock. He caught my hand and led me towards the centre of the hall. A new song started up, and in the middle of the room couples were already swaying together.
He slipped an arm around my waist and, with a gentle pressure at the small of my back, pulled my stomach flush against his.
I didn't even know why my feelings had vanished into the fog like this, why I was so dazed. Why was I suddenly so warm, so utterly shocked, staring at him like that?
Why had he taken my hand and dragged me with him?
My heart was pounding hard against my ribs.
And I was disturbingly unfamiliar with this damned feeling. It was like I was experiencing it for the very first time.
A strange, addictive warmth that slowly started melting the ice around my heart.
In the half-dark, cool hall, in the middle of the crowd, we stood facing each other, my body pressed to his chest, his warm breath burning the skin of my forehead.
I locked my gaze on his bright eyes and whispered, my voice barely there,
" What are you doing?"
He kept moving me with the slow rhythm of the music as he murmured,
" Your fake nail came off… If he saw that his pretty goddess of the night hasn't got a nail, that they've ripped your nails out—wouldn't he start getting suspicious?"
As I rested my hand on his shoulder, I stared down at my nails.
He was right. One of them was gone, and the ugly, half-broken nail underneath was exposed.
A deep, familiar pain rose from somewhere inside me, as if I was reliving the moment they'd ripped it out. My mouth went dry, that bitter taste coating my tongue.
It felt like all that ice rushed back around my heart again, trapping me in the same cold, lonely place.
His hand pressed softly but firmly into the small of my back, drawing me closer still. The music felt like it was running through my veins.
I stared into his eyes and wished he would just take those stupid lenses out so I could see the real thing—the pure, dark, beautiful black underneath.
I blinked, dazed.
What the hell was I doing?
I tore my gaze away from his and dragged in a shaky breath. Still staring at his shoulder, I said, my tone tight and annoyed,
" I'm not part of the organisation anymore. Why did you help me? You could've let me get exposed. Would've made your job easier."
He let out a crooked little smirk, rested his chin on top of my head and slid his hand lazily across my back—like a snake gliding over bare skin.
My breath caught in my throat. I could feel the burn of his touch right where his hand rested. His voice curled into my ear:
" Because you're my mission. From now until the organisation says otherwise, you belong to me. No one but me gets to hurt you. No one but me gets to arrest you."
I felt like I was breathing fire; hot steam ready to spill from my mouth. My hand clenched into a fist on his shoulder.
This man was going to kill me tonight.
Not my body…
He'd probably slaughter my soul instead.
I tried to pull away, desperate to put distance between us, to escape this closeness, but he spun me in time with the music and caught me again, dragging me back into his arms. His fingers dug into my waist with a roughness that made me crash against his chest and stay there.
The impact knocked the breath from my lungs and I stared up at him, stunned.
That familiar, mocking little smirk tugged at his lips, his straight white teeth on full display.
He looked more muscular than the last time I'd seen him, as if he'd put back on the weight he'd lost in captivity. With that height and that build, he'd become disturbingly, impossibly attractive.
His grip on my waist was so tight it made me clench my teeth together. Annoyed, I slammed my heel down on his foot.
He didn't show me any mercy either—his fingers clawed even harder into my back.
The squeeze of my corset and the pressure of his hands made it hard to breathe.
I was hanging on to my self-control by a thread. His damned cologne filled my nose, and the distance between our faces was so small that all I could see were his perfectly shaped lips.
Suddenly he dipped his head, bringing his mouth level with my ear. The warmth of his breath scorched my earlobe.
" Don't worry," he murmured. " You're not dying tonight… We can just dance."
It felt like my heart dropped straight through me.
Panting, I lifted my gaze back to his. There was something in his eyes I'd never seen before—
like a thin, dying thread of light, struggling to shine.
My lips moved slowly as I stared at him and asked,
" Why?"
He looked towards the left side of the hall. I followed his gaze, still caught in his arms, and stared across the room.
Gustav was talking to the woman in the golden dress, gesturing towards the painting.
" My mission tonight is that painting you're after too."
His voice was cold, flat, unforgiving. The heat of his breath still burned against my skin.
He turned his head back towards me and I met his eyes directly. Rocking gently with him in his arms, I said,
" That's why I don't have orders to kill you tonight either."
For a heartbeat, I could've sworn his eyes smiled. Maybe I imagined it; it vanished so quickly, replaced by that icy little sneer.
I swallowed hard and gave him a sharp, mocking smile, baring my teeth.
" Let's just dance tonight."
At the same time, my gaze drifted to the huge clock on the far wall of the hall.
Half eleven. Which meant there was only half an hour left of tonight—
half an hour until he tried to arrest me.
He followed the trail of my gaze and when his eyes locked with mine again, I watched his lips curl into a smirk.