Grave Signs - Ivy Asher Page 0,96

from both his words and his moves as he suddenly spins us and then tips me back, forcing my spine into an arch. He traces his free hand down the deep V of the front of my dress, his touch trailing between my breasts almost to my navel, before I can so much as pick my head up from the ridiculous dip position and look at him, my gaze flaring with indignation.

Instead of hurrying to right me, he keeps me poised like that, his face hovering over me as his eyes move slowly over my outline. He likes having me at his mercy like this, I realize. Unfortunately, I also realize that I like it too. Ugh! What is it about this guy? As if he can read my mind, his lips tilt up in a cocky smirk.

“I never lied,” I grit out as he finally lifts me back up with a graceful flourish. He then twirls me, my feet struggling to keep up, my skirt flaring out, just before he pulls me expertly back to him, catching me mid-spin and halting my momentum. A strong hand grips my waist and fans out to the small of my back, his fingers dipping dangerously lower as he tugs me against his hard body.

“Mmm, so pliant,” he murmurs, and I try to hold onto my anger, I do, but I’m left reeling, fighting the spark of arousal that keeps trying to stoke to a burning flame at my core.

Holding me against his body, Ire sways us right alongside the dozens of others dancing, his steps never faltering as he takes us both through the motions. Not even my awkward, heavy steps mess him up. The male is entirely too good at this. He’s entirely too handsome too. Dangerously so.

My brain blares with warning not to get sucked in. Danger signs flash in my head, but try as I might, I can’t discreetly push him away. His hold is too firm.

“You need to let me go,” I attempt again, trying and failing to pull my emotion out of it. I was hoping for a genuine plea to come out of my mouth, something that would make him pause and take me seriously, but I just barked an order, and I can guess how well he’ll respond to that.

“Somewhere you need to be, Cinderella? Other mates to lure in and fool?” he asks me casually, but his eyes are alight with righteous anger.

My gaze narrows at the insinuation, and I lean into him, purposely digging my fingers into his arms as hard as I can. “Let me go,” I growl, done playing whatever dumb game is afoot here. “I’m sure you can find other pursuits in red dresses to entertain your fickle ways. I’m not interested.”

I immediately wish I could take the words back as Ire’s nostrils flare and his lips twitch with amusement. But my senseless jealousy just hangs between us, and there’s nothing I can do to tuck it back in. I quickly work to get a hold of myself and school my features, once again looking around me to try and gauge if anyone just saw my slip.

I need to get away from this demon. I can’t afford to have anyone questioning what’s happening, and there are bigger things at stake than my pride and irritation over this perfect stranger and his penchant for thots.

“Why do you keep looking around?” Ire demands, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the tang of jealousy in the air just might belong to him too.

But I don’t have time for this anymore. My body may be perfectly happy to spend the night swaying pressed against Ire’s formidable muscle while my mind is occupied with trading barbs and snarky remarks, but my sisters are counting on me. Hell, the whole damn realm is counting on me.

So I do the only other thing I can think of that will get me out of this without breaking character. I immediately make my face go blank again, and then I purposely go limp in his arms. No fighting. No straining or pushing. I just let him lead me. Ire’s blue eyes flash. “What game are you playing at?” he asks, irritation coating his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, as I stay malleable and bored, not reacting or engaging at all to this game anymore. I ensure that I’m being the perfect mindless doll to observers, while also hoping that Ire will get

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