“What’s funny?” Elethior’s suspicion is sharp. “So help me, if you pull any stupid stunt here, I’ll—”
“Chill, Tourael. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve refrained from doing anything that could be considered remotely unscrupulous all week. Don’t I get a reward for that?”
I bat my eyelashes and take a sip of what turns out to be a gin and tonic. To be an ass, I slide my tongue on the rim of the glass.
Elethior’s eyes glue to my mouth.
He looks dumbfounded. Struck silent and frozen.
And maybe a little… hungry.
Two things hit me at once: how I stripped off my shirt in front of him before the awards brunch. And now, whatever this is.
Both those things gather in the base of my stomach and burn, but a smoldering burn, nothing painful, just intent.
I slam my glass on the bar. “Actually, I need to talk to you.”
He drags one hand down his face. “Gods damn it,” he hisses, and I don’t realize he’s saying it at himself until his voice raises when he’s speaking to me again. “No. That’s what I came to say—you have other people you can mingle with. Other donors. You’re not squirming your way over here.”
I glance behind him, to the group he’d been with. The blonde woman is still there, veritably holding court with donors. “Why?”
“That,” Elethior says, his teeth gritting, “is my cousin. And given how vocal you’ve been about all thingsTourael,I’m not risking you foaming at the mouth mid-conversation with her. Go torture some other donors.”
My grin is satanic. “But tonight’s about schmoozing withallthe donors. It’d be rude not to meet your family, Elethior.”
I step past him, but I have no intention of getting farther than it takes to mess with him.
He grabs my arm and I go immobile.
Inevergo immobile.
I react.
Usually violently.
So to stand there, andlethim hold on to my arm—my brain is a Ferris wheel, spinning, spinning, every seat empty.
I stare down at his long fingers on my white shirt.
“Let me go.” My voice is rough.
His fingers spasm. But he releases me.
My eyes flip up to him, mutinous—
“Elethior,” his cousin calls out. “Is that your new partner? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Alarm bursts through my cocky anger.
I don’t want to meet his cousin. Don’t want to play nice with another Tourael. I’d have happily ignored her if Elethior hadn’t made a point to tell menotto intervene, but I’m tangled up in both my desire to do the opposite of whatever he wants me to do and the deep-seated revulsion at the idea of being near his family.
The group around his cousin is watching us now. We’re only two yards away, separated by a few people who come up to the bar.
Elethior’s eyes stay on mine in silence, and I can practically see the thoughts taking shape in his head, warring with how he can get out of this, but what reason do either of us have to refuse?
His jaw flexes. “Of course,” he calls back to his cousin.
He starts to grab my arm again, thinks better of it, and recoils, flexing his fingers. When he turns toward the woman, I find my voice again.
