Page 77 of Red Masquerade

“I didn’t know,” I managed.

“You want to see it again,” he said, not a question, but a fact. That amused brow still arched, eyes half-lidded. “You want towatch,” the word charged, the accusation full of mirth, “so you can understand, yes?”

Biting my lip, his gaze growing too intense, I looked away, down the hall behind him. The direction he came from. That room, just around the corner, regaled by grand, embellished wooden doors that warned of the danger within, demons and angels warring. The precipice of the underworld.

“Why—” My voice caught.

“Because we need to feed, Helena,” he said, voice lowering. “And why not share the pleasure of it amongst ourselves?”

I hadn’t realized we’d moved closer, just a few steps, to the corner. Like he was drawing me in. He had said no one here would harm me—the room must be empty, but the pull to peek inside, to get any sort of hint ofwhy, thetruewhy, was alluring like a siren at sea. I didn’t know how, or why, but I knew that understanding the bloodletting would lead me to the truth about Vince.

“There you are.”

As though my thoughts summoned him, his voice echoed down the hall, Sinclair’s eyes darting over my shoulder.

When I turned, I saw he was moving quite leisurely toward us, wearing a satin robe himself, parted around his bare chest as he walked. I swore, even from this distance, I saw a dangerous glint in his eye, his stare locked onto Sinclair. A faint bruising on one side of his neck, where I’d kissed him over and over again. Hair mussed, a shadow at his jaw.

He came to a stop right before us, his stare never leaving the other man, even when his arm came around my hips.

“The bed was cold,” he said to me, voice softer.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” I turned in his arms, placing my hands at his chest, feeling the muscles underneath. But he still didn’t look at me.

He clenched his jaw. “Thank you for watching over her.” But a warning danced in his words.

“Was only making sure she didn’t get into anything she shouldn’t,” Sinclair said, some of the amusement on his face fading away.

Vince said nothing, his features unmoving, his fingers on my hips tightening near-imperceptibly. I almost didn’t feel it.

Sinclair’s eyes narrowed before he looked away. Much like my attacker had when Vince confronted him. And after a moment, he turned and walked off without a word, disappearing around that corner like he’d never been there to begin with.

Twenty-Six

“What was that about?” I asked after a few moments of heavy silence.

Vince’s gray eyes lowered to me, pupils dilating. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His mouth pressed into a firm line. “At first, I thought you might’ve left and gone back.”

Back. To Mother, to Lucas.

I shook my head as his hands tightened around me. I hadn’t thought about what he might assume, waking up to an empty bed. That maybe I’d changed my mind, realized I was in way over my head. And maybe I was—but I could never run fromhim. Even if something was off, I couldn’t ever leave without a word.

I wouldn’t marry a haughty man Ididn’t love.

“Why is Sinclair here?” I asked.

Vince blinked. “He lives here.”

“Does anyone else live here?” I deserved to know who might be lingering in the halls.

“Only the ones I can trust,” he said. “Two others, besides him.”

Two others. “You trust Sinclair?”

He nodded once.