The Knight Of The Rose (35 page)

of the dance floor, with a tall, sandy-blonde-haired boy. Her cream and black dress with pin k

accents of lace took my breath away, and I remembered Alana’s description of her hand-me-down.

Mike looked over my shoulder, following my gaze. “Wow. That’s quite a dress,” he said.

“Oh, wow.” Emily sighed, leaning against the railing beside me.

“And Ryan looks so…vintage,” I added.

“They make a good couple,” Mike noted.

“Yeah. I’m a good matchmaker.” Em ily grinned, hiding her pier cing Mike-directed gaze of

abhorrence under her mask.

Hm, maybe she
does
hate him.

“Well, Miss Ara.” Spencer stood taller and bowed to me. “I believe you owe me a dance.”

He extended his arm; Emily smiled at me with a nod of approval.

“Very well, Mr. Griffin. It would be my pleasure.” I us ed a for mal English accent, then

followed Spencer to the dance floor.

Mike walked behind us with Emily on his arm.

I laughed quietly to myself. She’ll have to dance with him. I know she’s going to
hate
every

minute of it, but I also know she’ll be okay with him one day—she just needs to give him a chance.

We danced, and the flow and magic of the masquerade concealed my pain and emptiness for

just a while. Passed from arm to arm, I danced with nearly every guy attending the ball, and when I

finally fell back into Mike’s embrace as the first stroke of midnight chimed through the air, my head

swirled like a room full of butterflies.

The enchanting tone of the evening burst into a spectrum of colour above us when blue and

pink electrified the skies—dissipating into yellows and whites as they dissolved among the stars.

Everyone stood stil l, tilting their faces upward while the clock chimed each agonising toll of

realisation.

Midnight.

The music played on, saddening my heart with its desultory notes. All the beauties around us

smiled, gasping in awe at the colours of the end. But my heart was fighting to ignore the sombre

melody of loss and separation that humoured the ignorant crowd.

He’s not coming. David’s really not coming.

Mike pulled me cl ose, pressing his fingers firmly between my shoulder blades so my body

moulded to his. “I love you, Ara-Rose. You know that—don’t you?” he whispered.

Wiping the tear s from my lips and cheeks, I looked up at his face as the last chime of

midnight passed; I do know he loves me—it’s in the way he looks at me, t he kind of stare that

makes me want to cry. “Kiss me,” I breathed softly instead.

The fireworks cracked loudly—echoing off the horizon—but the noise, along with the soft

gasps and giggles of girls, faded into the background when his lips touched mine. The room twirled

again as the dancers moved around us, t aking step to the rhythm of a sound I could no longer hear.

Safe in his arms, in the middle of the dance floor, there was nothing but Mike and I—no one else in

the world.

His lips broke away from the kiss with a cool wash of air as he looked over his shoulder.

“May I?” a gentle voice asked, and a boy stepped into view; tall, but not as tall as Mike, with

soft brown hair—his face hidden behind a black mask, but instantly recognisable.

David?

When the boy took my hand, my heart dropped into my stomach; it’s not him. David’s

hands were never this cold—and these took mine with no familiarity.

The stranger pulled me close—closer than polite. I studied his eyes through the mask. Green

eyes—not quite emerald like David’s were, yet so much alike.

“You look lovely tonight, Ara,” he said in a smooth, gentle voice.

“Do I know you?” I squinted against the darkne ss of the softly lit danc e floor, tracing the

strong, square line of his jaw with my eyes.

He shook his head once, and said nothing more.

The harmonies of the song carried the pace of his gracefulness as he held one hand gently

under my shoulder blade, with the other extending our arms out widely.

“You’ve danced bef ore,” I said, but my voice, the ve ry idea of speaking came from

somewhere else within me. I felt lost—in a dream-like state.

The boy nodded, his smile showing only by the dimple beside the curve of his lip.

A strange sensation saturated the air around me then, a feeling like ener gy in the form of a

warm, liquid light. I looked around my hips and arms as the light encircled us—but no one else.

From the sideline, Mike stood watching with his arms folded, leaning in to talk to Alana and

Ryan every few seconds. I wondered if he could see the light, or if he could see the way this boy

held me—if he found it odd that he pull ed me close—li ke he’d held me there a t housand times

before.

“What’s your name?” I tried, being that every question so far had gone unanswered.

He turned his head an inch and looked down at me; his mysterious eyes held a depth of

darkness to them that made me feel suddenly very uneasy. I looked at Mike again—having a thumb

war with Spencer—and my heart hurried a little. I wanted him to come—to t ap this boy on the

shoulder and ask for me back—hold me safe in his arms.

When I squirmed a little in the boy’s grip, he squeezed my hand gently, tightening his hold

on my back. “Our dance is not yet complete, my lady.” His voice came through his lips with a

smile, but all the contempt in the world trickled out from behind his eyes. “It would be incredibl y

bad manners to leave a man i n the middle of the dance floor. You wouldn’t want to be rude, would

you?” With wide eyes and each breath carefully planned, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t

mean to be rude.”
What are you saying?
I screamed at myself internally.
Get away from him, Ara.

But I stayed in his arms, an d we glided around the floor once more; the boy smiled at each

person we passed, and my lips did the same, though it felt unnatural—like I had no control.

The stranger watched my face as I stared curiously back at him. His eyes were so green, so

like David’s that if he leaned closer, I’d have let our lips touch—just for a second.

When the music ended, he stopped and clapped gently. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, but took no haste to move away fr om him. I stood staring up at

him like a stuffed animal. “Please tell me who you are.”

Another song began. He bowed low, holding his arm across his body. “Care for another

dance first?”

“I—” I swallowed, shaking my head as a name came to mind. “Jason?”

“Tres bien, madame.” He s tood taller and his lip creased in one corner, leaving the smile t o

come from behind his eyes—the way David smiled when he read my mind.

“Do you read minds, too?” I asked.

He took a breath and offered his arm; “Walk with me?”

Reluctantly, I cupped my hand agai nst the crease of his elbow and let him l ead me away

from the dance floor. We pass ed right by Mike and my friends, who didn’t even look up as this

stranger and I walked onto the ba lcony. “It’s a beautiful night, w ouldn’t you agree?” he sai d, not

really to me, but more
at
me.

“A perfect night.”

“Perfect for one’s last,” he said very quiet ly, then leaned on the marble ledge, watching the

other dancers in the final act.

“Pardon?”

“I shall not repeat myself, girl. It’s rude not to listen.”

“I heard you. I just wondered what you meant.”

Jason smiled—seemingly to himself. “I meant that if this were your last night, it would be a

grand way to spend it.”

“Yes.” I looked down at the dance floor, which, from the balcony, looked like an eighteenth-

century court. “I suppose so.”

“Do you know why I’ve come?”

I shook my head. “Are you here because of David?”

His eyes focused on something in the distance while the same malignant smile as before

settled onto his dark-pink lips, sending shivers down my spine. Bad shivers.

“Where is David?” I asked.

“In pain, I suspect?”

“What do you mean by that?” I stood up straight.

Jason turned around and leaned his back on the ledge. “I mean—you hurt him. Badly. I

suspect he’s grieving, at this time.”

“What would you know about it?”

“I know you gave him your heart, then denied him your life.”

“That’s none of your bu siness,” I scolded i mpetuously. As I turned to walk away, Jason’s

hand lashed out and caught me off guard, spinning me into his chest with a breathtaking jolt.

“On the contrary, my dear. It is.”

I stiffened all over, wedging the ball of my palm into his chest. “What are you doing? Let go

of me.” When a few curious glances flicked our way, Jason placed his hand firmly on my lower back

and forced my arms into position; “Dance with me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” I said, but he held me firmly and start ed spinning around to the

soft piano—like we were dancing harmlessly—just two masked teens, in love. “What do you want,

Jason?”

“I think you already know what I want.”

“I’ve never been one for guessing games.”

“Let’s just say...” his eyes, under the cover of the black mask, became small with a smile,

“I’m not here for pleasure.”

Like my rapidly thumping heart was pulled out through my spine, a s udden urge to escape

filled my body with a cold rush. I cast my eyes to the dance floor, but Mike was gone. The space he

stood before—vacant.

I steadied my own misdirected thoughts and tried to sound calm. “Well, if it’s not pleasure,

it must be business. What business do you have here?”

Jason’s head moved at a fraction of an inch. He smiled—the green in his eyes occupying the

corners. “Someone is looking for you.”

I followed his sideways gaze to see Mike running through the crowd—panicked, touching

the shoulders of various individuals—obviously desperate to find me.

Look up, Mike, look up.

“I’ll kill him, Ara. If he comes for you—he will die.”

The air escaped my lips in an abrupt gasp. “Why? What do you want with me?”

“It’s nothing personal, really —” He tilted hi s head. “You’re j ust the impl ement in my

recompense for a misfortune my brother so unkindly bestowed on myself.”

“Huh?”

He sighed. “I’m going to hurt you to hurt him.”

My mouth fell open with a huff. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Oh, I’m going to do worse than touch you.”

“No!” I sunk my knees down—tr ying to pull my self free from his hold, but he gr abbed my

arm and started walking toward th e dark chamber gardens. “Let me go, Jaso n,” I o rdered, “I’ll

scream.”

Without trepidation, he just smiled wickedly, keeping his eyes on our destination. “You

won’t scream. Because you know I’ll kill them—all of them, Ara. I wi ll take every last life that

resides in this miserable gathering, and I will save
you
until the end, so you may watch as I tear

apart every one of your friends, and eviscerate your replacement lover.”

His spiteful promise stirred only a ferocious and unrefined anger in me. “No. I won’t let you.

Get off me!” I scratched viscously at his hand, feeling the muscles in my arms tighten in places they

never had before.

“Stop struggling.” His razor-sharp fingernails dug in to my flesh, making it bleed. I tried to

unwind them from my arm, gritting my teeth through the pain, but they tightened.

As we neared the step, my darting gaze of desperation flicked around the room—passing

over the smiles of distracted couples.

Where’s David? He was supposed to be here—he was supposed to come. The last dance on

the hour of midnight. That was the deal. Why hasn’t he come?

The haunting piano stopped bel ow us, and the gentle clicking of applause filled the air as

Jason pulled me along—attempting discretion—and to my amazement, succeeding.

But, when a f ew gasps and words of abhorrence caught my attention, I looked over to see

Mike racing through the crowd on the other side of the dance floor—his ma sk removed, his eyes

ragged with despair.

I’m sorry, Mike. Please don’t look this way?

Jason waited by t he stairs as a few couples emerged f rom the darkness, straightening their

clothes and looking a little flushed. He smiled at them knowingly, pulling me closer to conceal his

tight grip within the closeness of our bodies. I tried to pus h my hips away from his, but he hooked

his foot around my ankle and held me to him.

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes when I looked down at my hand against the lapels of

his suit jacket and saw the contrast of black against my ruby ring—like midnight blood.

Mike’s face—the way he smiled when I accepted his proposal—filled my heart with regret. I

wanted him to come; I wanted him to save me and hold me in hi s arms just once more. But if I

indulged the idea of rescue, Mike would be dead—as would everyone else I love.

My life in exchange for many.

“Mike can’t help you now, anyway, Ara. The predator has you within his grasp—you won’t

get away.”

David could help me—if he were here. I know he’d...

“David will not help you, either .” Jason’s eyes flooded wi th amusement. “He does not care

for you now. Not even in death.” He looked down at my shaking jaw and the liquid running from

my eyes and nose, falling over my lips. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

I nodded and closed my eyes tight.

“Of course, he still won’t like what I’m going to do to you—he never did like me pl aying