Somehow attached to the back neckline of the gown is a half-crown of silver feathers that frame her entire head. Her black hair is done in a fishtailed braid that hangs over one shoulder, and it’s so long it reaches her front hip. Her makeup is stunning with darkly charcoaled eyes making her blue eyes seem to glow unnaturally.
Nimeyah stands slightly in front of the rest of her family, making it clear she is the ultimate authority.
Her husband, Callidan, who I haven’t met is—like the rest of the family—stunningly gorgeous. He, too, has black hair and blue eyes, and I wonder if that was a common coloring among fallen angels or perhaps there’s inbreeding among the fae. Callidan and Pyke are dressed similarly, much the way Carrick is tonight, with leather breeches, boots, and a tailored coat with long tails. Both men are in hunter green, the biggest distinguishing factor between the two is that the lapels of Pyke’s coat are taupe while his father’s are a deeper green.
Reluctantly, my gaze moves to Deandra, and my stomach bottoms out as I take in her provocative gown. Oddly, almost all of her skin from neck to toe is covered, but it is in a sheer white material that actually hides nothing. It’s like one large, flowing scarf was made with a hole cut out in the center for her head to pop through. It’s loose, baggy, and, standing still, doesn’t show her curves or any part of her body at all.
But as the family starts walking down the steps, and the material flows back against her body, everything is visible. She’s completely naked underneath, and there’s nothing left to the imagination from the dark areolas of her breasts with budded nipples to the black thatch of hair between her legs.
Her long hair is parted in the middle and is worn loose and wavy as if she just rolled out of bed. Her makeup is stark against her pale skin, particularly the ruby-red stain on her full lips.
Hesitantly, I turn my head and lift it slightly to see Carrick’s reaction. His face is a mask of nothingness, and I can’t tell if he’s looking at Deandra or the family as a whole.
I glance back to the royals as they reach the lawn and start for the tent where we are standing. Carrick might not be acknowledging Deandra right now, but her eyes are pinned to him, and she’s looking at him like he’s her next meal.
CHAPTER 21
Finley
My stomach clenches tighter and tighter as Carrick and I stay at our table, but watch the royals getting closer and closer. I sort of expected Nimeyah to have her throne chair set up down here and insist on everyone forming a line to kiss her hand or something. Instead, she leads her family around, inclining her head left and right in greeting to her subjects. No one bows or curtsies, which also surprises me, but there is no hiding the absolute adoration on the face of the Light Fae as their queen makes eye contact with them.
Callidan will sometimes chat a few words, Pyke openly flirting with the single ladies, and Deandra… well, her stare stays riveted on Carrick. I grimace as she licks her lips more than once.
Just as they’re approaching, I pick up my drink and take a hard swallow for fortification. Carrick’s head whips my way, and I receive a look of warning before he turns to greet Nimeyah, who has come to stand squarely in front of us. I’m not worth her notice, so her eyes are only for Carrick.
“Carrick… I hope you’re enjoying this party in your honor,” the queen says lightly.
“It’s a magnificent event,” he agrees with a smile, tipping his head as a sign of respect and gratitude. I stay statue-still, not wanting her to notice me at all.
“You must join us at our table for food and drink,” she declares, and it’s clear there will be no declining this flattering invitation.
Carrick smiles, again tips his head, and says, “We’d be honored too.”
His inclusion of me isn’t lost on the queen as evidenced by the flattening of her lips for just a moment before she gives him a tight smile. “That would be lovely, but we have time before the food will be served, and I know Deandra has been dying to get some time alone with you all day. I think you two should go and dance… get reacquainted.”
A moment of panic seizes me as Deandra steps into Carrick, looping her arm through his. The queen shoots a vindictive smile before walking away, her husband following without so much as a word to any of us.
“Come, Carrick,” Deandra murmurs seductively. “I’ve been dying to have your arms around me all night.”
“One dance,” he agrees, then turns his gaze to me. “Don’t move from this table.”