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Lachlan’s hand found the small of my back, and the touch grounded me. I drew away from Oberon gently. He might be handsome and tempting, but like it or not, my nights belonged to the Nether Court. I waited for the sting of disappointment as I realized that, but it didn’t come. Instead, it took effort not to inch closer to Lachlan’s steady warmth.
Oberon’s smile faded slightly. “Will I see you at the feast tonight?”
“We will be there,” Lachlan answered tightly, his palm pressing down as if to pin me to the spot. He nodded to his penumbra. “Roark will show you to your floor.”
Before I could say goodbye, the hand on my back steered me toward the bank of elevators, remaining on me possessively as the doors slid open. Lachlan didn’t bother to wait for anyone else to join us, bypassing courtesy as though a swift retreat was necessary. After faking a smile for the last hour, I didn’t argue with him, especially given the weary set of his shoulders. Still, the compartment felt too small as it carried us to the top floor. His hand remained firmly in place, but his demeanor had changed from the possessive bravado he’d displayed in the lobby to something closer to nervousness.
He didn’t speak when the elevator deposited us on our floor, didn’t bother to look around to see if his sister had returned, didn’t even glance in my direction. Instead, he seized my hand and dragged me into his private wing.
And then the Nether Prince shut and locked the door behind us.
Chapter Eighteen
My heart was a drum roaring in my chest as I stared at the lock, trying to decipher if Lachlan meant to keep them out—or me in. He braced his palms against it, tension radiating from him.
“I forget how insufferable they are,” he gritted out.
I blinked, realizing he meant the other royals. That his agitation was about them, about their presence, their posturing, their fucking pissing contests. “Everyone seemed polite.” Except Bain, perhaps.
“Until you turn your back,” he said darkly. “They all have their own agendas.”
“And you don’t?”
His head dropped. “I’ve never been as good at hiding mine as the others.”
I doubted that. I still didn’t know what he wanted with me.
“Don’t let them get under your skin,” I said as my own pulse finally began to calm.
I studied him, the way his suit jacket strained against his muscular torso as he held that door like his life depended on it. Maybe I’d misinterpreted our hasty departure as jealousy on his part when, in reality, he’d used me as a means to escape. That…hurt.
I backed away. No. It shouldn’t hurt. I shouldn’t want him to be jealous. Shouldn’t want that hand on the small of my back to mean something. There were at least three other men in this very hotel who were kinder and better choices than him. Four, if I counted the young Astral prince. Why did I have to react to Lach’s every touch, to his presence, to him? I couldn’t resist even his smallest request. I was a single star in a vast, dark sky, and Lachlan was the black hole that would devour me. I couldn’t escape his gravity.
And worse, there were times I didn’t want to.
“Don’t let them under my skin,” he repeated with a hollow laugh. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
When he turned to face me, I edged toward the hall, wanting to hide in my room, afraid that this stupid, foolish rejection I felt was written all over my face. But he just leaned against the door and pushed a hand through his ink-black hair, leaving it loose and tousled and begging to be touched. He looked vulnerable. It was unsettling enough to tamp down my panic.
“You hate them all,” I said carefully.
“Not Aurora,” he admitted.
Jealousy speared through me, but I swallowed it down. I had no idea where it came from. “She’s pretty.” It was easy enough to say, since it was true.
“Is she?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, over my heart. “You know that she is.”
“The fae are beautiful.” His eyes traced along my face. “All of them.”
I knew he was looking at me and seeing a human, seeing that inconsequential star that he was bound to swallow and forget. The hurt flared back to life—more than it should have. I turned my face away from those prying eyes. “I suppose that’s my cue to find Ciara and put a glamour on.”
“Why?”
The soft question stopped me, but I just needed a few minutes, some distance to remind myself that Lachlan Gage had always been a very bad idea. And then tonight I would dance with Ciara, and maybe for once I would drink too much because I was actually safe here, I’d realized. Safer than I’d been in a very long time.
My mind replayed his lingering touch on my back. I tried to force myself to see it for what it was—a warning to the other fae that I belonged to him. At least according to the terms of the bargain. I was a toy to play with when he was bored, but I wasn’t to be touched by anyone else. He’d made that clear, but even so, there had been something in his eyes that suggested it was not so simple to him, either. It was a small thing to cling to, but I grabbed onto it and clung.