Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Chapter 70

I need air.

Not just because I'm about two minutes away from wringing Celeste Vaelor's scrawny little neck, but because my dress reeks of wine, my shoes are cutting into my feet, and I feel Enoch's gaze like a goddamn brand on my skin-even from across the ballroom.

The music is loud enough to shake the floor beneath my heels, but I barely hear it over the rush of my own thoughts. It's been two hours since I danced with him. Two hours since I dared to raise my hand like a damn challenge in front of everyone, since his hands were on me, since we were too close and too obvious and too much.

No. No more thinking about that man.

I should be smart and stay where Liam can see me. Should blend in, act normal, and let this night pass without more unnecessary bloodshed.

But when have I ever done what I should?

“Liam, I'm going to step out for a bit,” I say, already shifting my weight toward the nearest open balcony door.

Predictably, he stiffens. "Yeah, no, not happening.

"Why?" I feign innocence, picking at the wine stain on my dress. "Scared I'll throw myself off the railing out of sheer boredom?"

Liam doesn't laugh. He levels me with his signature you're-a-goddamn-menace look, crossing his arms. "I don't trust you alone for five seconds, Sinclair."

Zoe clears her throat beside us, looking everywhere but at us. Weird. Usually, she'd be backing me up, adding a dramatic "Let the girl breathe, Liam!"

But now she's red-faced and quiet, stealing glances at Liam like he's suddenly grown three heads.

What the hell?

I squint at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yep!" she squeaks, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing tray and downing half of it. "Just peachy!"

That's suspicious. I file it away for later. Right now, I have an escape plan to execute.

"Look," I say, turning back to Liam. "You and Zoe should dance."

"You two should dance," I say, mostly to shut them up.

Zoe startles like I suggested something illegal. "What? No. Why would I-'

"You've been stuck with me all night, I'm giving you a chance to

looking anywhere but at Liam.

Huh.

Weird.

"Excuse me?" he deadpans.

escape." I nudge her, but she just presses her lips together,

"Dance," I repeat. "You know, two people moving to music? Maybe you've heard of it?"

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Liam glares. "Sinclair-"

"Oh, don't be a killjoy, Calloway," I cut him off. "Zoe, tell him you want to dance."

Zoe turns the color of a ripe tomato. "I-uh-well, I mean-"

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Liam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Whatever. But you-" He jabs a finger at me. "Stay where I can fucking see you."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," I sing-song, already slipping through the nearest exit.

He mutters something about regretting ever hiring me. Zoe, still visibly flustered, lets Liam pull her onto the dance floor, and I finally-finally-escape.

Jand

in the face. I store that weird reaction for later before slipping away through the

balcony is empty, thank

relief from the suffocating ballroom. Cool air, the scent of rain in the distance, the distant hum

his hands on me, his mouth against mine, the way he looked at me across the ballroom as though

Not thinking about

deep breath. The city stretches below in a glittering sprawl, endless lights flickering like a second sky. The moon is hanging low, like

the wine stain on my dress, the one that Lady Celeste fucking Vaelor so graciously gifted

should've said more. I should've done more. I should've knocked her straight into the punch bowl when she dumped that glass onto me. My brain is doing that thing where it rewrites the entire encounter,

meaner.

as I rub at the stain. “My bad, did I trip and accidentally push you into the fountain? Damn,

rub more at the wine stain, muttering under my

I'm throwing a whole bottle at her

jaw clenches. I should've shoved her into

own fantasy and shake

me

head, letting my

time tonight, I

And then-

shift of light. A shadow stretching long

rigid, every nerve in my

Slowly, I turn.

He's there.

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Chapter 70

Enoch.

against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me. A

I swallow. Hard.

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world. That smirk is dangerous, lazy, knowing. His tux is crisp, his posture relaxed,

My stomach flips violently.

him. I want to

hard to breathe, hard to think. The come-fuck-me look that mkaes you thank the heavens you're a

smirk. That

matter, Cinderella? Lost your

warm.

night is

its way out of my goddamn ribcage. I turn back around to face the moon as I hear his steps

when I feel his hand on my waist. My knees are beginning to melt and I try to act cold, begging my legs to

from the way his thumb brushes absently

bone.

Silence.

eyes are locked on mine, unblinking,

That fucking mask.

I hate it.

see his face. That I can't tell if this is the same Enoch

is the Enoch who left. The one who tore himself from my arms and walked away, leaving me

Then-suddenly.

flex against

Then-he moves.

Fast. Unforgiving.

rips from my throat as my back arches

My heart is slamming against my

even a little, I'll plummet stories down to the marble

behind me is high enough to break bones, but it's not the fall that terrifies me. It's him. His touch. The way his scent crashes over me

But I don't move.

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I know exactly what's

hips. The way his breath, hot and unsteady, fans against my lips. My breath is ragged, my chest rising and falling too fast, too much, but all I can focus on

devours me. Unapologetic.

We are both starving

silence between