Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(180)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“Where’s Alana?” I asked.

“Haven’t seen her.” Emily shrugged.

We looked over the crowd of dancers for a moment. Each one was hidden beneath a mask of feathers or sequins, their hair drawn up in dazzling ringlets or left down to flow over their shoulders. It seemed futile to find a friend among them. Then I spotted a girl at the centre of the dance floor, with a tall, sandy-blonde-haired boy. Her cream and black dress with pink accents of lace took my breath away, fitting Alana’s description of her hand-me-down perfectly.

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

“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.” Emily grinned, hiding her piercing, Mike-directed gaze of abhorrence under her mask.

I got the sense then that maybe she really did hate him.

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

Emily gave me a smile of approval.

“Very well, Mr Griffin. It would be my pleasure,” I said in a formal English accent, then wrapped my arm over Spencer’s.

Mike walked behind us with Emily on his arm. I felt a little sorry for him, knowing Emily would probably step on his toes deliberately.

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 still, 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 in awe at the colours of the end, while my heart fought to ignore the sombre melody of loss and separation.

He wasn’t coming. David really wasn’t coming.

Mike pulled me close, pressing his fingers firmly between my shoulder blades. “I love you, Ara-Rose. You know that, don’t you?” he whispered.

Wiping the tears from my lips and cheeks, I looked up at his face, feeling the last chime of midnight pass, taking all my hopes and dreams with it. “Mm-hm.”

The fireworks cracked, echoing off the horizon, but the noise, along with the gasps and giggles of girls, faded into the background when his lips touched mine. The room twirled again, the dancers moving around us, taking step to the rhythm of a sound I could no longer hear because, while I was safe in his arms, there was nothing but Mike and I—no one else in the world. It had always been that way, and I knew then that it always would.

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

“May I?” a gentle voice asked, and a boy stepped into view; tall, yet not as tall as Mike, with soft brown hair—his face hidden behind a black mask, but instantly recognisable.

David?

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mike kissed my cheek and took a step backward, giving away the last dance of the evening to this stranger he’d never met. My heart raced, my breath quickening as the boy stepped into me and took my hand, but it all stopped—all the hope, all the excitement, just trickled away when his cold touch met mine with no familiarity.

It wasn’t him.

The stranger pulled me close with one sweeping touch, my hips against his, my body arching back slightly, his green eyes locked to mine.

“Moonlight Sonata,” he said in a smooth, gentle voice, gesturing toward the piano. “Your favourite piece.”

“Yes.” I squinted against the dark, trying to see him better beneath the mask. “Do I know you?”

He shook his head once and said nothing more.

The song’s harmonies set the pace to his gracefulness, while the elegance in his stance seemed adopted from another era; one hand gently under my shoulder blade, the other extending our arms out widely. He’d danced before. Perhaps on a night such as this. I dreamed of it for a moment; he and I, in another time, another place, dancing this way until sunrise. But the very idea, the very thought of having been in his arms before, came from a place—a dream-like state—somewhere deeper inside. It was as if I didn’t own the thought at all.

I looked up at the boy, his smile showing only by the dimple beside the curve of his lip, and a strange sensation saturated the air around me, a feeling like energy—closing me in, making this dance a secret from the rest of the world.

From the sideline, Mike stood watching, arms folded, leaning in, whispering to Alana and Ryan every few seconds. I wondered if he could see us; if he could see the way this boy held me—if he found it odd that he pulled me close, like he’d held me there a thousand times before. All the laws of nature said he could, but I felt invisible.

“Can you feel that?” I asked.

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’m the one doing it.”

I looked at Mike again—having a thumb war with Spencer—and my heart hurried a little. I wanted him to come, to tap this boy on the shoulder and ask for me back, hold me safe in his arms, but the boy squeezed my hand gently, tightening his hold on my back.

“Our dance is not yet complete, my lady,” his wet lips whispered onto my brow. “It would be incredibly bad manners to leave a man in the middle of the dance floor. You wouldn’t want to be rude, would you?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” I said softly, and something inside me screamed, wriggling about, warning me to move away. But I stayed in his arms, smiling his smile as we passed each dancer, softly nodding my head in greeting. It felt unnatural.

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

“You’re welcome,” I said, but made no haste to move away from 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 to dance the encore first?”