Lies in Blood (Dark Secrets #4)(122)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“Is he mad?” I said excitedly. “I love this song!”

David frowned down at me. “I didn’t even know you knew it.”

“Are you kidding? You know how much I love Muse.”

“Come then. It’s time to enter,” he muttered, and took off.

I grabbed hold of the railing and placed my wobbly heel to the first step, searching my peripheral for David’s arm in case I needed to grab it. But his hands were behind his back, clearly being kept away from any risk of touching me. “You’ll have to touch me when we’re dancing, you know?” I said, hiding my moving lips behind the smile I offered the crowd.

“Why do you think I wore gloves?”

I scoffed in the back of my throat, not meaning to. “You know, you don’t have to be so—”

“Careful.” His hand wrapped my back suddenly; the other one grabbing my arm, hitching me upright again as I nearly flew forward, and the quiet gasp of the crowd forced my eyes onto all the shocked faces below. My heart thundered in my chest, my gaze meeting Falcon’s then, who closed his eyes, clutching his own chest.

David lifted my dress angrily, yanking the skirt out from under the toe of my shoe. “This dress is too long.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

“You need to lift it at the front when you walk, Ara. Didn’t anyone teach you that?”

“We—”

He grabbed a handful of fabric and stuffed it in my hand, closing my fingers around it. “Walk carefully. I will not catch you again.”

“You wouldn’t have anyway, were it not for all these people watching.”

He looked over the room, resuming his kingly posture, and started walking. I followed, this time holding my dress above my shoes. And we entered the ball with a bit more grace than we’d started with, David offering his hand on the last step and drawing me finally close to him as we fluttered like a breeze onto the dance floor. He positioned our arms widely, with absolutely perfect form, and I caught a glimpse of us in the giant glass windows overlooking the gardens: a man in a suit of black and white, his not-so-beloved queen standing a few inches shorter than him—their backs so straight, their steps so swift and graceful, the whole scene like something from a fairy-tale. He looked nice in a suit, his kingly sash across his chest, distinguishing him from the rest of the men in the room, and I felt proud to be in his arms and also sad, because I knew this would be the last time.

The other guests joined the dance floor then, David and I stepping in smaller circles to make room for them, changing our stride so effortlessly one would think we’d danced together for centuries.

I looked up at his face to take him in; he was clean-shaven, his dark hair brushed back, tidy and almost too clean. But the coldness in his eyes made the green stand out more, and I couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at me.

“What was that look for?” I asked, noticing a very coy kind of almost smile on his face, too.

His hand moved slightly more around my rib. “You’ve filled out since I last held . . . since we last danced.”

My smile dropped. “I know.”

“I warned you about those brownies.”

“Magda says I’m not fat—that it’s just a part of being pregnant, you know, that you lose your child’s figure and become more of a woman.”

“Being pregnant does not make you more of a woman, Ara. That’s done by your actions alone.”

“Yes, but, she meant that the body changed—became more womanly.”

“And since when is Magda the expert?”

“She’s not. I guess.” I lowered my gaze onto David’s white bowtie. “How much longer is this dance?”

“It’s been too long already.” He stiffened just a little, angling his chin so it sat further away from the top of my head. But his eyes kept drifting downward, brushing over my face, my hair, my gown.

My smile returned. “You know, I can read your mind.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“No, I can. And you won’t say it, but you think I look pretty tonight.”

He stared down at me, his face suddenly devoid of all emotion. “I think no such thing. I barely even noticed you.”

“Okay. I get it. I know you hate me, but you don’t have to be so mean.”

“It was not my intention to be mean, Ara. Simply to state that you’re fooled if you think you enter even one of my thoughts in a day—particularly when it comes to my opinion of your appearance. Quite frankly, if I’m honest, cream makes you look washed-out, and your head looks too big for your body when you do your hair that way.”

That hurt. Deeply. But I brushed it off, flicked him a quirky grin and said, “I thought you said you didn’t really notice me.”

“Just dance, girl. Or this will end with you tripping and accidentally snapping your ankle—rendering you useless for the evening.”

I shut my gob then and just danced, letting out the breath I’d held when the song finally ended and Mike stepped up to take over. “May I?” he said with a bow.

I grabbed his arm and practically ran away with him.

“You okay, baby?”

“He threatened to snap my leg,” I whispered, leaning close.

Mike laughed, turning to face me. “Why?”

“He wanted me to shut up.”

“Did it work? Did you shut up?”

I nodded, glancing back at David; he was holding Emily close now, the girl throwing her head back, laughing at something he whispered into her hair.

“Well, I’ll have to remember that one,” Mike said playfully.

“Don’t you start.”

He just laughed again. “You know he wouldn’t actually do that, Ara, right?”

I felt myself shrink a little. “I’m not really so sure about that.”

“Aw, Ar.” Mike dropped my hand from position and wrapped me up in a very informal hug. “If he does anything to hurt you or upset you, you come tell me.”

“Why? What can you do about it?”

“We’re still buddies. I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t. Otherwise he’ll think I’ve been complaining about him.”

“So?”

“So, then he’ll just make life harder.”

“Harder?” He raised a brow. “What’s he doing to make it hard now? You two are never even in the same room.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”