Victor’s hand lulled on the chain, but did not release it. “No you don’t. Get up.”
His lips were straight, the grey of his eyes flat like decambered metal. Even so, it was not impossible to tell how he enjoyed the dominance his birth had given him over this man, who was taller and stronger and possibly even smarter than he. Victor glanced at Quinn, trying to discern whether he was truly interested in his younger cousin’s plight or just completing one of many stops in his path around the room. If the former, what he was about to do might be condoned. If the latter...
His hand fell from those glittering gildings and moved to feel the muscle beneath a tanned arm. Just as it seemed he was caught in some deeper contemplation, his fingers suddenly dropped to fondle the palm just below. “Come on,” he said to the bare chest before him, and his tone suggested the servant was more than that. “Let’s get out of here.”
And then he squeezed the strength in Baker’s hand and skirted away, away from the soaking mess and his cousin and Vernon and Lilly and Leonora’s stupid masks. He pulled the stupid black thing from of his face and let it fall to the ground, leading whoever would follow him into the hall, through the foyer, and out the door.
The night was cool and sticky, the way they always are after a warm day. The fresh air seemed like new life in his lungs, the darkness freedom from responsibility, the whispering quiet a short stretch of sanity. The fleeting solitude, on the other hand, unnerved him. He looked back at the door when his shoes finally touched cobblestone, hoping that at least one of them had pursued him in spontaneous escape. If no one came, he planned to climb onto the roof and pretend he did not care—but in reality, he desperately wanted the night to end in something more than a bed.
His lips were straight, the grey of his eyes flat like decambered metal. Even so, it was not impossible to tell how he enjoyed the dominance his birth had given him over this man, who was taller and stronger and possibly even smarter than he. Victor glanced at Quinn, trying to discern whether he was truly interested in his younger cousin’s plight or just completing one of many stops in his path around the room. If the former, what he was about to do might be condoned. If the latter...
His hand fell from those glittering gildings and moved to feel the muscle beneath a tanned arm. Just as it seemed he was caught in some deeper contemplation, his fingers suddenly dropped to fondle the palm just below. “Come on,” he said to the bare chest before him, and his tone suggested the servant was more than that. “Let’s get out of here.”
And then he squeezed the strength in Baker’s hand and skirted away, away from the soaking mess and his cousin and Vernon and Lilly and Leonora’s stupid masks. He pulled the stupid black thing from of his face and let it fall to the ground, leading whoever would follow him into the hall, through the foyer, and out the door.
The night was cool and sticky, the way they always are after a warm day. The fresh air seemed like new life in his lungs, the darkness freedom from responsibility, the whispering quiet a short stretch of sanity. The fleeting solitude, on the other hand, unnerved him. He looked back at the door when his shoes finally touched cobblestone, hoping that at least one of them had pursued him in spontaneous escape. If no one came, he planned to climb onto the roof and pretend he did not care—but in reality, he desperately wanted the night to end in something more than a bed.
