The man to her right smiled and inclined his square, feathered hat in acknowledgement even as his mind sniped, “Another one of the four. Do they not realize they simply do not belong here?”
Conceited bore. If he had an inkling of his wife’s thoughts or how many of the guests here in this room frequented Samgor’s Den…
Jordan’s back tingled. Did they believe their false smiles made him feel at ease? Oh, the look on their faces if they could see their thoughts about him slide, slick as butter, into his mind. Once their thoughts did, it was impossible to imagine he belonged here, no matter his fine clothes or polite manners.
Wait! He had not been able to read thoughts in a year. This elemental power had been the first of his to dwindle. He smiled a genuine smile. The surge in power had to be a residual effect from the bite. Maybe he had refrained from biting for too long.
He turned away from the couple, swallowed, and set his chin. He needed to tell Ferrous about this when they were together next.
If his bite caused this, it was a mixed blessing. His powers increased, but he’d killed a woman. Sorrow hung around his heart. He also now was once again aware just how out of place he and his brothers really were amongst the Ton. But then, socializing with anyone at this high a level in society had always grated on him.
He wiped the disapproving reactions of England’s elite from his conscious mind and concentrated on the task at hand: finding Ilmir.
He pushed through the cluster of gents to his right and past the musicians who played as young and old alike danced in the middle of the room. Several pretty women attended this night. One could very well be his mate. His lips turned down, and he grumbled. He would never bite one of them. When a peer’s daughter went missing, it was noticed by all. He narrowed his eyes. An entire class of women was untouchable because their eventual deaths caused complications for the Zir. Finding an enticing reaction from paupers and prostitutes had become tiring decades before.
A gasp came from beside him, and a round, short woman dressed in a grapefruit-colored gown that matched her cheeks shied away. “Odd man… I thought the four stopped attending civilized events.”
Then again, maybe Jordan should bite one or two of them. The left side of his mouth curled up into a lopsided grin. He was starting to sound a bit like Ilmir. His brow pulled tight. He could not have that.
The music ceased, and everyone slowly turned toward the south end of the ballroom. Jordan lifted his head and gazed through the small crowd. Finding one of his unusually tall brothers here should be easy. He fidgeted with the cuff of his black evening coat and then focused his attention on the man at the head of the room who had captured the guests’ attention: the Duke of Hudson.
The chatter in the room dulled to a low hum. A man with golden hair and cold brown eyes called out from beside Jordan, “Hudson, get on with it. I have skirts to chase.”
A sinister smile flirted across the Duke of Hudson’s lips before altogether disappearing. “Indeed, Bedmond. And keep your old man away from this.” He turned to his left and held out his hand. A slender woman placed her white-gloved fingers into the duke’s open hand and stepped up beside him.
Jordan’s vision hazed and warped in a colorful wave, heightening details at the center of his focus. He shook his head and looked down to the highly polished wood floor. His sight returned to normal.
What just happened? His vision never colored except after he had bitten. He locked his jaw, and his chest labored. He slowly raised his gaze back up at the duke and the woman who stood the same height beside him. A rainbow of colors radiated out from her.
He choked.
The woman… He closed his eyes, and the image from the beach came back to him…
Golden hair lit up with the sun. The pearls of her aristocratic dress played against the tips of his fingers as he gently laid her on the grass for dead.
His throat tightened. He had bitten her three days past, and she…lived.
Oh, bloody hell.
His body shook.
She was his mate.
Heat coursed through his flesh and burned through his cock, which swelled and pressed painfully against his trousers. His mate. He shifted his stance and placed his hand at an angle to disguise his engorged erection. Damn. He glanced about the room. This couldn’t be possible. His attention snapped back to her.
“Lords and ladies, I present to you my new wife, Her Grace, the Duchess of Hudson!” His Grace raised her fingers to his lips and kissed her gloved knuckles.
It was her. It really was the same woman. Jordan had touched that wrist. Had taken her bracelet. His treasure of her death. His fingers fisted, and he stumbled forward, seeing nothing but her golden hair, slender nose, full, angelic lips and noble cheekbones. All held the color of life. Not death.