Music and chatter fill the ballroom, a scattering of courtiers floating elegantly along polished marble floors.
Ruin is surrounded by women laughing too loudly, touching his arm, begging him for dances. He indulges them all, flashing those pant-melting smiles that make them blush, his fingers never too far from the wine.
"He's been staring at you all night, Eve," Brielle murmurs.
I snort. "Ruin never looks at me."
"Oh, not him," Astrid laughs, eyes sliding past my shoulder. "The guard."
I glance back.
Constantine stands near the doors, politely declining a dance from a beautiful blonde. As she turns away, his gaze lifts and locks on me.
Heat blooms under my skin as his eyes trace me slowly, from my strapless bare shoulders to my cinched waist in the midnight blue lace, down the slit that reveals a generous amount of legs.
His eyes flare gold.
"Goddess," Astrid gasps. "He's eye-fucking you. Look at those arms. Imagine being lifted and bent over a railing--"
