Into His Command (14 page)

I forced myself to take in the spectacle of the night, instead. It was damn near impossible
not
to. The Tahreuse council had spared no funds to ensure the ball would be an event
to remember. Twinkle lights spiraled the trunk of every tree. From their branches
hung hundreds of golden lanterns, illuminating the entrance road in a glow that seemed
almost celestial. The red carpet also covered the entrance path into the Tower, where
the low stone ceiling was lined with billowing white drapes that concealed more twinkle
lights.

The décor treatment served a higher purpose: to bump the “wow” factor once guests
entered the main party area. Once someone stepped foot into the huge cavern itself,
with its soaring walls glittering with the embedded blue gemstones, it was impossible
not to gasp. The cavern’s natural beauty was enhanced by colored party spotlights,
glistening ice sculptures, and handcrafted local furniture with white cushions, accented
by vases bursting with mountain wildflowers in every shade of blue imaginable.

“Holy mother of wow.”

Camellia’s exclamation made me laugh. I wasn’t alone. Mayor Trieste, who’d taken advantage
of the photo op to escort her from the car to this point, gave an indulgent chortle.
“My citizens shall be happy to know your reaction, Lady Camellia. They have worked
hard all week on the event.”

“Obviously.” She beamed a dazed smile. I swore Trieste grew another inch taller. Buffy
had slayed another one.

But one man in the kingdom was gutted more than all the rest by her—a fact nobody
disputed as soon as he entered the room. As King Evrest Cimarron strode to the middle
of the white dance floor, looking every inch the dark wolf indeed, a hush fell over
the room. Tonight, the king made even wolfish look distinguished, exchanging his traditional
black doublet for an outfit tailored in ivory, matching the accents on Cam’s gown.
Like her, he accessorized in gold: the hook-and-eyes on his doublet, as well as the
buttons up the sides of his pants, were gleams of the polished color. His thick black
hair was slicked back from his face, emphasizing every prominent, handsome angle.

“Holy. Shit.” Cam seized me by the wrist. “Brooke—”

“Yes?” I grabbed her back, suddenly concerned.

“Hold me up.”

“Camellia? Cam? Are you feeling all right?”

“Look at him.
Look
at him!” She visibly gulped. “Would
you
be feeling all right? How the hell does he expect me to
move
, when he comes in looking like that?”

I squeezed her hand encouragingly. “I think he might feel the same way.” The longer
I watched Evrest, watching her with unblinking focus across the gaze that exactly
matched her gown, the more sure I was about the point.

“Wh-what’s he doing now? Ohhhh, no. Is he really—”

I couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “Inviting you to dance? Errmm…yes, Your Ladyship, he
is.”

She groaned beneath her breath. “By his own damn Creator.
What
is he thinking?”

Silence. Mine. On purpose. Just for a second. “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“All right, then. Beside the fact that he looks ready to crawl out of his skin if
he doesn’t touch you again—”

“That part, I can deal with.”

“He’s claiming you. Now. Publicly. While the whole kingdom, and the world press, are
watching. It’s as much for them as you. He’s telling them that he’s not just kicking
off this party; he’s starting his
life
—and you’re the key to that. He’s telling them that you’re here to stay, and they’d
better get used to it.”

As I spoke, the edges of her mouth quirked. Before she replied, they bloomed into
a wide smile. “Badger…I think I like you.”

I squeezed her hand one more time before letting it drop. “Buffy…go dance with your
man.”

My chest warmed, watching her walk into the lights to be reunited with Evrest. The
applause swelled in equal measure, an irony since the couple in the middle of the
dance floor were clearly oblivious to anything but each other. With their foreheads
lightly touching and their eyes completely closed, they began to sway as the band
played
Why Don’t We Fall in Love
with a slow, sultry twist. Few people in the room were able to rip their stares from
the sight. Despite the pace of the music, the king and his fiancé didn’t just shuffle
back and forth like a pair of teeny-boppers. They moved against each other with their
legs and hips, their arms and hands, like a poem given physicality.

Like a pair of lovers who couldn’t wait to get naked with each other.

I couldn’t watch them and not think of Samsyn.

And how we’d moved together like that, too.

I suddenly needed air. Badly.

As if a wool blanket were thrown over the room, I sucked in a harsh breath. My wig
wasn’t a glam masquerade anymore. It itched and clung. My contacts burned in my eyes.

I was vaguely conscious of tapping the comm link. “Robin Hood, do you have eyes on
the dance floor?”

“Affirmative,” Jag answered.

“Perf. Badger’s taking a recon lap on the patio.”

Though I couldn’t see him through the crowd, the delay of his scrutiny was tangible.
“You feeling okay, B?”

“Fine,” I hissed. “The dress is tight.”
Lie
. The gown was damn near custom-fitted for me, but right now the million-layered skirt
suffocated just like the wig. “I’ll be back in five.”

Once out on the terrace, I inhaled gratefully. The night flowers had started to bloom,
weaving their natural perfume in with the breeze off the lake. The sky was clear except
for a few frothy clouds, drifting across the moon like designer meringue atop a cream
macaron.

The view demanded more than a cursory glance, but first things first: I’d promised
Jag a thorough check of the area. Fortunately, with nearly everyone mesmerized by
the Ev and Cam show on the dance floor, I was finished in a couple of minutes. The
shadows on the far side of the terrace beckoned as an ideal spot to re-file my thoughts
into proper order.

Until a bunch of them moved. With a huge hulk that felt, looked, and smelled all too
familiar.

From that darkness, his gaze beamed first. It was always the first thing I noticed
about him. So reassuring yet strange, how that hadn’t changed. Even now, even after
everything, my feet stopped as my heart indulged a giddy whirl, locked in the power
of his brilliant blues.

I kept borrowing a page from the book of Cam, unable to move even as he did, stepping
forward with his warrior-dragon surety. Yep; even with his clean-shaven jaw and his
hair pulled into a gleaming knot, I could imagine him brandishing a broadsword and
racing into battle. His doublet was black—as if I’d doubted
that
choice—with the shoulders and upper torso inlaid with silver threads. Those swirls
guided the eye toward the medallion pinned to the middle of his chest, etched with
the twined dove and hawk of the Cimarron family crest.

“Dammit, Syn.” I struggled for a flippant laugh but came up short. “You scared the
crap out of me.”

“Just as
you
frightened
me
.”

I readily embraced confusion. It trumped having to notice the rest of his luscious
outfit. The tight fit of his traditional red breeches. The polished boots that hugged
him up to the middle of those massive thighs. Shit, did the man have amazing legs…
“What? Why?”

“You turned white as the dance floor in there.”

He’d noticed?

Don’t shuck your panties, girlfriend. Of course he noticed. You’re on the vital team.
If you fall over, he has to worry about replacing you.

“I’m fine. It just got stuffy. The dress—”

“Looks fucking perfect.”

His sandpaper voice jerked my head up. His countenance matched, turning so rough that
he seemed to age a year before my eyes. His thick brows lowered over the new intensity
in his eyes.

“It—it does?” And could I have sounded any more like the dip-wit teenager I’d tried
so hard to make him forget?

He moved in by another step. Clenched his fists, as if preventing himself from taking
a second. “You are the most beautiful woman in this whole damn place.”

I nodded inside with a little grin. “I think your brother might disagree.”

He didn’t acknowledge that. “It really looks like stars.” Finally reached out, fingering
one of the skirt overlays. From there, it was simple for him to drift his hand over,
brushing my hand with his.

Time stopped. Heat bloomed. Inside seconds, turned to a thousand bolts of fire up
my arm, through my body. Breaths stuttered in and out of my lungs. Once more, I was
small yet huge, joyous but terrified, lost yet found…but oh, so very sure of the woman
in me, affirmed by every inch of the man that was him. Unbreakable. Unfathomable.
Unbelievable.

But for a moment, I believed.

And gave in.

“Samsyn.” Wrapped my hand around his. Trailed my index finger down the length of his.
Shit. This was wrong and ill-advised on
so
many levels but he was the damn moon and I was the helpless tide. I looked up, longing
for him to see what other parts of him I already touched…in my naughtiest thoughts.

“
Astremé
.” His voice was sequoia tree bark. His gaze darkened as I curled my finger around,
stroking up and down his long, thick digit. I didn’t miss an inch, from the firm web
at the root to the broad fingernail at the tip.

“I’ve…missed you.”

He swallowed. “I have…missed you.”

Here went nothing. Or perhaps everything. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Did you…think about it?”

I didn’t explain “it”. The silver shards in his gaze confirmed he already knew. “Yes,”
he snarled softly. “I thought about it. All of it.”

My lungs refilled with air that felt made of tingles.

God,
really
? Was I thinking shit like that, let alone feeling it?
Right now
?

I cleared my throat. Forced myself to step back. “Sorry.
Shit.
Sorry.”

Syn snarled softly. “Brooke—”

“Forget it.” I smoothed my dress, preparing to got back inside. “I’m—it’s all right.
Just…forget it. We have work to do.”

I indulged one last glance Syn’s face was tight, conflicted, and unspeakably gorgeous.
There was a question in his eyes too—but before I could answer, the terrace was flooded
with noise. Camellia led the way, towing King Evrest by the hand. They were followed
by what could only be described as a small mob.

“Hey!” the little brunette exclaimed. “Jagger, you were right. We found her.”

“Found wh…” My query faded as I finally focused on the faces behind Evrest and her.
The
faces
—at first, as foreign to me as my own tonight—but after taking in the specific features,
were as familiar to me as home.

Because they
were
home.

“Dad! Mom!” Though Veronica Valen wasn’t my biological mother, she’d joyfully filled
the role since I was eighteen months old. Technically, that also made her “Mom”. “Oh
my God. Look at my groovy parents!”

Dad, who’d maintained his senatorial crop over the years, sported a black shag and
mustache a la Sonny Bono in the 1970’s. Appropriate, since Mom had traded out her
short blonde curls for a sleek Cher look, a la the
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves
era. She had spiky fake eyelashes to go along with it, and red lips she was careful
not to smudge on me as we hugged.

“Lady Camellia very sweetly offered to let us come join the fun,” she explained.

“We couldn’t turn down the chance to see our girl in action,” Dad added.

“You’re not supposed to
see me
, Dad. That’s the point.”

“Which is why you’re one of the most stunning women in the room?”

Dad was one-upped on the comment by a guy who moved in from behind him. The dude finished
off the comment with a saucy wag of brows that more resembled a pair of muddy caterpillars.
I almost wrote him off as a creepy hanger-on, until he flashed a glimpse of crooked
teeth—the teeth
I’d
made crooked, when attacking him for spilling fruit punch all over my Hannah Montana
Halloween costume one year.

“Dillon?”

“Hey,” he chastised as I dove in for a crushing hug. “Don’t scratch the merchandise
too much.”

“Asshole.” I punched his shoulder. “Your ‘merchandise’ is just fine. As a matter of
fact, a few sweet
chicas
around here might be interested in logging advance payments for it.” I cupped my
hands and mouthed Freya’s name. The woman’s crush on Dil had been legendary for years.

He rolled his eyes. Probably would’ve tacked on a growl, if Mom didn’t flip her Cher
locks with diva poise, then wink at the man behind me. “Guess what, Samsyn Cimarron?
We can see you back there.”

Well. The man had more than one surprise entrance up his sleeve tonight. As Syn slipped
around me with grace that belonged on the dance floor, my stomach swirled with more
girlish butterflies. As he leaned in, scooping up Mom’s hand then winking back at
her, all the butterflies drowned—in the puddle now known as me.

“A pleasure to see you, as always, Madame Valen—or shall I say Madame Cher?”

“‘Veronica’ is fine, Samsyn. You know that.” Even she went all girly-flustered, smoothing
the front of her red sheath gown. “Especially since they spared me the horror of having
to wear anything with feathers, beads, or cut-outs.”

“Cut-outs?” Dad did a perk-and-smirk. “You didn’t say anything about the cut-outs
option.”

“Not an accident, sweetheart,” Mom rejoined.

As everyone laughed, Dad scooted closer to her. Nuzzled her ear and muttered things
none of us could hear. Probably a good thing.

“Oh my God.” Camellia gave me a soft shoulder bump. “Your parents are so cute.”

“Yeah, they are.” I smiled at the two of them, cuddling each other like the sun rose
and set in each other’s eyes, and suddenly, everything was all right in the world.
“Sometimes, in a weird way, I’m kind of grateful for what happened to us. Losing so
much that night…well, it made all four of us more aware of what we
did
have.” When understanding softened her eyes, I went on, “Political life is rough
on marriages, even outside Washington. So many of my friends had estranged parents,
or had to deal with scandals about cheating and lying…
shit
.” Contentment morphed to horror. “Not that such a thing would ever happen with Evrest
and you. I just—”