To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (38 page)

“Misty.” Domenico was devastating in his all-black attire, and the intense heat in his gaze as he looked at her made Misty want to swallow again.

But then she noticed he was not alone, and her heart cracked at the sight of the younger woman with her arm curled around Domenico’s. The girl was beautiful. She curtsied so deeply Misty knew every man’s gaze would be drawn to her décolletage.

Domenico was about to speak, but someone approached him then, taking his attention away, leaving Misty and Lysander to gaze at Ivory.

“My lady,” Ivory said, curtsying again. 

Misty tried to keep herself from pulling the younger girl back up so that men wouldn’t be seeing 99% of her chest. She bit her lip, tempted to scold her because the younger girl reminded her somewhat of Kelly. 

“My name is Ivory---”

This time Misty had the silliest urge to…cry.
Ivory.
Even the girl’s name was so very feminine! How could something misty – something practically invisible – compare to
ivory?
The world was so not fair!

A snide voice told her that she wasn’t supposed to care since she and Domenico were no longer together, but Misty stubbornly ignored it.

“---and I was assigned by the Lady Magenta to be of assistance to Prince Domenico.” Ivory twisted her head around to look at Domenico with shining eyes. She looked back at them with a sigh and curtsied for the third time.

Misty’s jaw dropped. Oh, for the love of---

“Lord Lysander,” Ivory murmured in a respectful tone.

Lysander acknowledged the greeting with a nod, momentarily surprising Misty with his coldness. He was usually a lot friendlier than that.

“Ivory,  it is a pleasure.” He returned his attention to Misty right after, idly playing with the tips of her silky soft hair as he said, “You probably do not know this, but Ivory is also a part of the High Circle. She may not look like it, but she is actually two years older than you are and four to mine.”

Misty missed the way Ivory’s gaze turned cold, her lips tightening at the mention of her age.

When Misty saw that Lysander didn’t appear as if he was joking, she turned to Ivory again, exclaiming, “You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

“You flatter me, Your High---” Ivory gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh, but I apologize. I have forgotten that the two of you have already cut ties.” She curtsied in apology.

It was so very wrong, but Misty wanted Ivory to trip this time.

Lysander debated with himself whether or not to tell Misty about his suspicions of the Faerie woman accompanying Domenico to dinner. His spies had taken note of her unusually frequent departures from the realm, disappearing for hours without any explanation. Post-war Faeries were leery of the real world, having lived within the safety of the realm throughout their lives. That Ivory would actually leave their realm often and alone immediately made her suspect in his eyes.

Misty’s fingers curled into a painful ball under the table at the thought of Domenico spending a lot of time in the girl’s company. She really was beautiful, not sensual like Lyccan women but more…well, fairy-like, a beautiful damsel who was not in distress.

Deciding to keep his thoughts to himself for now, Lysander threaded his fingers through Misty’s hair, this time making her glance at him in surprise.

“It’s so smooth, my pretty. What shampoo are you using?”

He looked so serious as he asked the question Misty couldn’t help giggling, and it was the exact reaction Lysander had hoped for.

It was also the same moment Domenico came back to Ivory’s side. The sound of Misty’s giggle was the sweetest poison, and the sight of another man’s fingers threading through her hair was a knife in his heart.

He pulled out a seat for his companion, took a seat himself, and looked at the other man with a polite smile. And he said very pleasantly, “I will give you three fucking seconds to stop touching her hair before I challenge you to a fight, alliance or no alliance.”

Lysander didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but then he didn’t have to. Misty jerked away so fast from Lysander she almost knocked the person on her other side off her seat. “Sorry,” she mumbled, red-faced as she helped the older woman back into her chair.

The older woman smiled stiffly.

“It was my fault, I apologize,” Domenico said smoothly, giving the other woman his most charming smile. He was able to breathe easily now even though he knew he would never forget seeing another man touch Misty in the same manner he used to.

Across him, the woman’s entire face had lit up at having his attention for so long. “Can I say I’m absolutely thrilled to be seated in the same table with you, Your Highness?”

“I believe I should be the one honored, Lady Carlton, as I know you are one of the greatest historians of our races.”

Misty didn’t even know that, but then this was
Domenico.
His knowledge was limitless, but he also rarely shared anything he knew if it didn’t suit him.

When Domenico continued smiling at the woman next to Misty, Lady Carlton became dazed, as if unable to handle being looked at by Domenico for so long. The so-called great historian then mumbled something incoherent and looked away, still appearing bemused – so much so that she absently tried to take a sip of her soup with her fork.

Misty resolutely kept her gaze away the moment the other woman let out a gasp of embarrassment, having realized her mistake. Doing so caused her to accidentally meet Domenico’s gaze. There was a twinkle in his lovely green eyes that made him appear so irresistibly boyish she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching.

When Domenico’s lips parted, she unconsciously leaned forward, an undeniable part of her longing to hear whatever he had to say---or even just the sound of his voice.

“Domenico?” Ivory’s soft husky drawl saying his name stung Misty’s ears the same time Lysander gently touched her arm.

The spell broke.

Fuck!
Domenico felt murderous the moment he saw Misty’s eyes widen in horror before quickly turning towards the younger man. He could feel the wolf inside him growling a low warning sound. Never had he been this close to losing his control, but now it was all he could do not to tear the other man’s throat just for daring to look at Misty.

“Domenico?”

Willing himself back in control, he forced his attention back to Ivory. “I’m sorry. Yes?”

“Would you like me to tour you around the realm tomorrow?”

Domenico turned to Misty.

Having heard every word of the brief exchange – which for some reason sounded laden with sexual innuendo in her admittedly jealous mind – Misty tried to pretend she was completely enamored with whatever Lysander was saying. She tried to ignore the way Domenico’s gaze bore through her but then she felt something.

Surely she was mistaken.

But---

Her toes curled.

No, it was impossible. He couldn’t---she wouldn’t---

When her nipples actually started to poke through her dress, Misty immediately crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look at Domenico with a glare.

This time there was nothing charming about Domenico’s smile. Rather it was purely wicked and sinfully sexy, and that smile said it all. He really had been undressing her with his gaze, making love with his eyes, and she had known it! Even after everything he had done, Misty still had this stupid connection with him.

His gaze deliberately dipped low, focusing on the expanse of skin that her low-cut dress exposed. She had never really worn something like this with him, but tonight she had felt like she had to look her best.

She tightened her hold over her chest. Misty glared harder.
Stop looking at me like that!

His smile widened, as if saying,
Then don’t wear something like that.

“Is there something you want?” she finally asked, knowing that she would never win a staring war with Domenico. He would just have her end up blushing and painfully aroused.

“I’m wondering if you could take me around the realm tomorrow---”

“I’m busy---”

“---as I have questions pertaining to its defense,” Domenico ended silkily.

Misty swallowed the rest of her protest. Whether Domenico was lying or not didn’t matter. Anything related to the Alliance mattered too much. About to answer, she paused – and took the time to consider what she was about to say or do. This time, she tried to think like Domenico.

Finally, she said, “I think that’s a great idea.” Misty faced Lysander with a smile. “As Co-ambassador, I think you should come, too.”

“I would love to, my pretty.”

She turned to Ivory. “I’m sure you have other more important matters to attend to, but if you---”

Ivory flashed Misty a lovely smile. “I would be honored to be of help.” She glanced at Domenico under her lashes afterwards, as if saying without words the other kind of help she would be willing to give.

Misty’s fingers curled back into a fist when Domenico returned the smile with one of his own. “We would be glad to have your company.”

“Anything for the prince,” Ivory murmured, blushing.

She stood up, unable to bear hearing another sickening word. They were
flirting –
flirting in front of her! “I---”

But Domenico had suddenly come to his feet as well. “A dance, Misty? For old time’s sake?” Before Misty could answer, Domenico was already at her side, pulling her away and leading her to the dance floor.

Feeling all eyes on her, Misty knew struggling away from Domenico would cause a scandal. “I don’t want to dance with you,” she hissed under her breath.

“Too bad,” he answered readily, pulling her tightly against his hard body, causing her to gasp silently because of his heat – and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. As they started to twirl around the dance floor, Domenico easily taking the lead, he murmured against her cheek, “Do you like him?”

She didn’t bother pretending not knowing who he was talking about since that had never been her style. “No.”

He was quiet for a long time, making Misty oddly restless. She almost jumped when he turned to face her, his lips grazing her cheeks. “You could have lied.”

“I know.” She remembered his letter – the words he gave her, and try as she might Misty couldn’t keep tears from pricking her eyes. “But I don’t want to…I’m not sure I can but if I could---”

Domenico couldn’t help tensing. “What?”

“I don’t want to risk hurting you,” she whispered.