Anticipation coils in my gut as we approach her dressing room. I catch Ace’s eye, and there’s that shared electricity again, that perfect alignment of purpose.
“Remember,” he murmurs, “we’re just admirers tonight. The real game starts tomorrow.”
I nod, forcing my body to relax, to assume the casual posture of a club-goer rather than a predator.
Ace knocks twice on her dressing room door. The sound of movement pauses inside before a cautious voice calls out, “Who is it?”
“Admirers,” Ace answers smoothly. “Knox Blackwood asked us to personally congratulate you on tonight’s performance.”
The door opens partially, and there she stands—even more stunning up close. Sweat still glistens on her collarbones, and she’s changed into a loose black tank top that clings to her stunning frame. Her violet-blue eyes widen slightly as they take in the two of us.
“Both of you know Knox?” she asks, skepticism edging her voice.
“Colleagues,” I say, pushing the door wider before she can protest. “I’m Cyrus. This is my brother Ace.”
She steps back, creating distance as we enter her space.
“Your performance was captivating,” Ace says, circling toward her makeup table while I lean against the door frame, effectively blocking her exit. “You have extraordinary control.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes dart between us. “I don’t usually get personal visits from my employer’s colleagues.”
I move closer, drawn like a magnet. My fingers reach out, almost of their own accord, brushing against her bare shoulder. She flinches, stepping back.
“Sorry,” I say, not feeling sorry at all. “Your form is impressive.”
Her eyes narrow. “I appreciate the compliment, but I need to finish changing.”
Ace appears behind her, close enough that she startles when she backs into him.
“We don’t want to keep you,” he says, his hand settling briefly on her waist before she twists away.
I catch the scent of her—perfume, and something uniquelyher—that sends blood rushing through my veins.
She edges toward the adjoining bathroom. “Well, thank Knox for sending his congratulations. I really need to?—”
“Of course,” Ace cuts in smoothly, touching her arm as he passes. “We’ve taken enough of your time.”
Her body tenses at his touch, jaw tightening. “Right.”
I can’t resist trailing my fingers along her dressing table, picking up a hairpin. “Beautiful performance, Keira. Truly unforgettable.”
Relief crosses her face as we finally move toward the door, but I catch her shiver when I use her name.
4
KEIRA
After the twins had left my dressing room, I’d sat at my mirror for a long time, staring at my own reflection like it might offer some kind of answer. I couldn’t even pinpoint what it was exactly — just that something had been off about them. The way they’d looked at me. Too still, too focused, like I was something they’d already decided on without bothering to consult me. It had made my skin prickle in a way I didn’t entirely trust, because underneath the unease had been something else entirely. Something I’d scrubbed at in the shower and still hadn’t managed to wash away.
I’d told myself it was just nerves about the Hunt. The strangeness of the evening catching up with me.
I still wasn’t sure I believed that.
Getting ready had felt like preparing for the most important performance of my life, except I hadn’t known the choreography. I’d dressed carefully, turned the invitation over in my hands more than once — the heavy card stock, the wax seal, the address printed in clean, deliberate ink. It had felt like a contract. Maybe it was.
The journey to the venue had done nothing to settle my nerves. If anything, pulling up to those iron gates, handing overthe invite to the stone-faced attendant waiting at the entrance, had made everything unbearably real.
And now I sit here, in a waiting room with crimson walls that feel like they’re closing in with each passing minute, my fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against my thigh that betrays me despite years of performance training.