Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

I half wondered what infallibility he was talking about, because I very much suspected it wasn’t the actions that had made him a Mijai.

The auction finished and music started up. Logan rose and—looking decidedly unsteady on his feet—grabbed the hand of the blonde sitting next to him and dragged her toward the dance floor.

“Do you think we should keep close to him?” I asked, half fearing the answer would be no, and yet—absurdly—also fearing a yes.

He wasn’t looking at me, but rather Logan. “It would be more advantageous if we were close. It will be easier to prevent others from following him into the bathroom.”

Damn. I took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Can you dance?”

He glanced at me. “If dancing requires little more than shuffling your feet from one side to the other, as many on that floor are currently doing, then yes.”

Relief washed over me. Shuffling from side to side was a whole lot more survivable than the close body contact I’d been half imagining.

He rose and offered me his hand. My hesitation was brief, but nevertheless there, and again that annoyance flashed in his eyes. It made me wonder what energy Valdis was emitting, but for some reason his sword wasn’t visible. I wasn’t even sure he was wearing it. I was wearing Amaya, but she was always shadow-wreathed and therefore invisible.

“I am never without Valdis,” he said, one hand against my spine as he guided me toward the floor.

“Then why can’t I see her?”

“She hides her form.”

“She hides it?”

He nodded. “She does not naturally shadow, as Amaya does, but she can hide her form when I need all of my energy.”

We reached the edge of the dance floor. Logan was deep in the center of the crowd, so Azriel’s hand slipped from my spine to my fingers, the movement sensual. Delight shivered through me.

As he led the way through the crush of people, the music abruptly changed from pop to a slow waltz. I eyed his broad back suspiciously. “Did you do that?”

He turned around, then pulled me closer. “Would I do that?”

Though his expression was still its usual bland self, there was an edge in his voice that had my pulse rate skipping. Or maybe that was simply his closeness, the way his body seemed to fit so well against mine, the play of his muscles against my skin as he moved in time to the music. The gentle caress of his fingers across my back.

He didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even look at him. If I did…

I shivered again, feeling like I was being torn apart, my mind a tumult of conflicting emotions. Desire and fear waged a fierce war inside me and I couldn’t predict which one would win. Or which one I wanted to win.

The waltz went on, and the dance became more sensual. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, since our actual movement and position remained unchanged. But suddenly it was as if there were no one else in the room—it was just me and him and the intimacy that was building between us.

“Risa,” he said softly, “look at me.”

I shook my head. My courage had come under attack from many avenues over the past few months, but I’d never expected it to fail in the face of desire. I just couldn’t meet his gaze. I feared what I would see, what I would have to acknowledge.

What it would lead to.

“Look at me.”

This time, the demand in his voice was undeniable, and I found my gaze rising almost against my will.

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

Because there in the blue of his eyes was a desire so stark and raw it burned my very soul.

“You cannot deny this, Risa,” he said softly. “You cannot deny us.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god…

It was a litany that tumbled unchecked through my thoughts. I couldn’t think any more than that, couldn’t react, my brain and body held captive not just by what I saw in his eyes, but what I felt, as well.