“You look amazing,” Benton whispers.
I’m several yards back in the darkness, but I can still hear her soft laughter. I love the way it sounds. I wish—I wish like hell he was her date tonight. And not just a ruse for the Sand Man.
I stalk them in the shadows. Malace stalks me, I stalk them, and...
“Did you say there are other men following me?” I ask on a breath of a whisper.
“I did,” Malace says as he strides casually at my side. He looks around at the cloudy night sky as he strolls through the glowing will-o’-wisps, basked in crimson like a sinful nightmare come to life. His hands hang loosely in his pockets, his steps kicking at the winding pavement as he carries on without a care.
“Who are they?”
“Don’t know,” he answers lazily.
I eye him, but he’s naturally oblivious.
“Would you care to find out?”
“I would, but I’m very busy with my own stalking, as you can see.”
I eye him even harder. He’s oblivious even harder.
Asshole.
A big, white-bricked building comes into view, and it’s like I was here just yesterday. The Great Hall. Arching stained-glass windows gleam in the light of the whisking willows. I force myself not to think back to the last night I was here.
I won’t think of her.
Not right now.
Benton holds the door for Ivy, and their eyes lock as she passes through. The simple look alone sends a flush through her pale cheeks.
Leavon’s going to wreck her innocence.
“The side door is unlocked,” Malace offers, and I’m starting to find the king’s spy to be very useful.
My boots are silent on wet grass as I sneak to the darker side of the courtyard. Only to find Malace still standing silent beneath one of the dancing trees.
The pounding of my heartbeat demands I hurry up and slip inside. But his sudden behavior is so bizarre, I have to double back for him. Can’t have my stalker falling behind, ya know.
Dammit!
“What are you doing!” I hiss as the sparkling red flowers illuminate our bodies. His lips part when his big shining eyes appraise every part of me in the magical ember light.
“Wow,” he whispers.
Jesus-fucking-Christ, this is not the time to go all Owen Wilson on me right now!
“You’re like a dream,” he adds, and I seriously could slap the crazy out of this psycho right now if I thought it’d actually work.
His shining gaze drifts from my eyes to my hair, down my body, and then back again. I don’t know why I fold my arms nervously across my torn shirt when he’s done considering me.
“Why aren’t you coming?” I say on thrusting words to try to move his oohs and aahs along a little.
“He’ll know if I’m there. There’s a bond of some kind between the king and me. It’s not safe for you if I go in.”
It’s not safe for me? Since when did my stalker become my protector too?
“Oh,” I say rather lamely among my hostility. “Okay.” It feels weird to abandon him here like a lost dog in the great wide wilderness. “I’ll meet you right back here...”