Eliza’s breath was slow, asured, though her heart thundered in her chest. The ballroom stretched out around them, glittering with wealth and whispered intrigue, but at that mont, only two n existed in her world.
Raen, standing before her, his golden eyes ablaze with sothing dark and unrelenting. A predator held on the edge of restraint.
And Elric, his grip firm on her waist, his presence a whispered threat against her skin.
Two n. Two chains.
One choice.
She inhaled softly, her gloved fingers twitching at her side before she turned, ever so deliberately, toward Elric.
And placed her hand in his.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Raen did not move, but the air around him seed to crackle, a silent storm brewing in the depths of his eyes. The muscle in his jaw tensed, his gloved fingers flexing at his side as if resisting the urge to rip her from Elric’s grasp.
The court saw it.
Felt it.
And oh, how Elric thrived in it.
A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips as he lifted Eliza’s hand, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. His touch was deceptively gentle, but his voice carried, ant for Raen’s ears as much as hers.
“Good girl.”
A single, poisonous phrase. A claim.
A taunt.
Raen’s expression did not change. His control was ironclad, but Eliza saw the flicker of sothing raw in his gaze sothing dangerous, barely leashed.
It was working.
Elric turned then, guiding her toward the dance floor as if Raen were nothing more than an afterthought. As if he had already won.
And for the first ti that night, Eliza wondered if she had made a mistake.
***
The waltz began, the court watching with bated breath as Elric led her across the marble floor. The music swelled, rich and decadent, a perfect illusion of civility.
But beneath it, beneath the elegant steps and whispered pleasantries, war raged.
Elric’s fingers pressed against the small of her back, his touch deliberate. Possessive. He danced with the precision of a man who knew he was being watched, each movent designed to provoke.
And provoke he did.
“I can feel him watching,” he murmured against her ear.
Eliza didn’t need to look to know who he was.
Raen’s presence burned like a brand against her skin.
“Let him watch.” She kept her voice level, refusing to let Elric see how tightly wound she was.
His chuckle was low, indulgent. “Oh, he is. And he does not like what he sees.”
With a calculated flourish, Elric spun her, pulling her flush against his chest as the music swelled. Their proximity was improper, scandalous even, but he did not care.
Neither did the court.
They lived for this.
Elric leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Shall I kiss you, Eliza?”
A sharp inhale. A challenge.
[He would do it. Right here. In front of Raen.]
She stiffened, but before she could react, the music ca to an abrupt halt.
A chair scraped against the marble.
Low murmurs rippled through the crowd, tension thickening like fog.
And then...
“Eliza.”
Raen’s voice cut through the air like a blade, calm and edged with warning.
Elric did not release her.
Instead, he smirked, turning his head just enough to et Raen’s gaze across the ballroom.
“If you wanted a dance, my dear Duke, you should have asked sooner.”
The challenge was issued.
The next move belonged to Raen.
And Eliza…
Eliza knew blood would be spilled before the night was through.
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