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“Oh?”
“Every night in his court for the rest of my life.” Somewhere deep down I knew I shouldn’t be telling a stranger all my problems. Especially not a stranger that ruled a rival court. But while I was unclear on exactly what ambrosia was, it loosened my tongue as much as it did my inhibitions.
Oberon whistled. “That doesn’t sound like Lach.”
I grimaced. Apparently, no one knew Lachlan. Not his brother. Not his sister. Not the other princes. “I guess he needed someone to torture.”
“I don’t think that’s why he made the bargain,” he said carefully, but then he glanced up and his expression twisted, eyebrows knitting together.
Before I could look over my shoulder, a cold voice cut in. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Chapter Twenty
Lachlan stood behind me, arms crossed and murder on his face.
He wasn’t livid. No, he had blown somewhere past that to a terrifying place between DEFCON 1 and apocalyptic. Of all the times for him to walk up, he chose the moment another man had his hands on me, and not even in a sexual way when almost everyone around us was getting busy? The whole thing was hilarious, honestly. A giggle spilled from me, followed by more.
“Cate and I were keeping each other company,” Oberon said smoothly, showing absolutely no signs of intimidation as Lachlan glared at him. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or concerned about his self-preservation instincts.
“And where is Shaw?”
“I gave him the night off for good behavior,” I said. The smile on my face felt a little sloppy, but I leaned into it—or rather, I leaned into Lachlan.
Instead of lecturing me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “Thanks for looking after her for me,” he said in a clipped tone that contained no trace of genuine gratitude.
Oberon must have noticed the same, but he merely nodded. He turned to me. “Great talking to you. I look forward to next year’s meeting. Perhaps we will grow our numbers by then.”
Lach looked torn between asking questions and ripping his head off. Thankfully, he did neither.
“I’ll make us shirts,” I said happily.
My captor muttered something along the lines of “gods-damned nonsense,” offered Oberon a curt farewell, and dragged me out of the ballroom. At least, he tried. We made it halfway before I planted my feet firmly, refusing to go.
He simmered. “It’s time to leave.”
I grabbed hold of his shirt. “What happened to you will be safe if you want to let loose?”
“If you get any looser, they’ll be mopping you off the floor,” he said dryly.
But I wasn’t listening.
“We should dance.” We had been too far away to hear the music in the alcove. Now it called to me, beckoned me, spoke directly to the blood beating in my veins. I needed to dance.
Lachlan stared at me as if I had grown a second head. He moved closer, searching my eyes, and frowned. “How much ambrosia have you had?”
I held up my hand, staring at my fingers as I tried to remember how to count.
“I’m going to kill Shaw,” he growled.
“You shouldn’t have asked him to babysit me.”
“What else is he good for?”
He was seriously killing my vibe. “He’s your brother.” I poked his chest. “Be nicer to him.”
“I’ll be nicer when he stops fucking up.”
Oh man, did I understand that feeling. “Maybe if you’re nicer, he’ll stop fucking up.”