Jake cast Elena a wary look, his gaze flicking from the three empty wineglasses on the table to the fourth in her hand.
"I think you've had enough." He reached over and took the glass from her fingers. She frowned, watching as he set it safely out of reach.
"You have an image to uphold, remember?" He gestured subtly toward the ballroom. A few guests still stole curious glances his way, though most had grown accustomed to his strange presence.
She waved him off lazily. "It's fine. Most people are drinking," she said through a wavering smile.
Jake pressed his palm to his forehead and sighed.
"Don't worry. Everything will be fine." She reached again for the half-filled glass.
His hand closed around her wrist.
The grip was firm — iron-strong — yet warm and careful, as if he were afraid of hurting her. Elena looked up at him. A faint flush colored her cheeks, not entirely from the wine, before her lips curved into a small pout.
"I rarely get to drink," she complained, tugging lightly against his hold.
"Elena, you're drunk," he said flatly.
"Yeah, so? Everyone else is." She tipped her chin toward a nearby cluster of young nobles and merchants, faces flushed with laughter. One man animatedly spun a tale with sweeping gestures, careful not to slosh his brimming glass, while the others leaned in close, grinning.
Jake shook his head. "Our situation is different. I'm not a noble, I'm a criminal."
He released her wrist. Elena drew her hand back toward herself, fingers lingering where his touch had been. Silence settled between them as her thoughts drifted through the haze.
Then her focus sharpened.
Her amber eyes met his gold. The fog thinned, awareness slipping into its place as she leaned closer without quite realizing it. Jake stiffened.
A small smile curved her lips as she caught his hand and squeezed.
"I like your hands… so rough, but gentle," she murmured, her thumb brushing slow circles through his velvet gloves. She could tell her warmth still bled through though, as he looked away, jaw tightening under his mask, but he didn't pull free.
"Elena, you're drunk," he repeated quietly.
Her smile lingered as she leaned back. Her gaze drifted across the ballroom, couples swaying together on the dance floor, others tucked into shadowed corners, mouths pressed together without shame or care for watching eyes. Wine loosened titles, loosened caution, loosened restraint.
She turned away quickly as something started to ache in her chest.
Jake followed her glance, brow furrowing. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, eyes dropping to the table.
Before he could stop her, she snatched the last glass and tipped it back, draining it in one go. Which didn't quite dull the ache.
"Really?" he said, disappointment clear in his voice.
She only stuck out her tongue at him.
"Made you look," she teased, tipping the wine glass towards him.
He rolled his eyes. Elena's gaze drifted toward the shadows, the ache finally blooming into a hollow feeling. An emptiness, or was it jealousy? She sighed as her hands tightened, but before they could become iron. She was reminded of his presence, his warmth, which grounded her through the haze and made the hollowness flee.
He glanced at her hand, then looked back at her, worry settling in his eyes. For a fleeting second, it felt like he'd seen straight through her.
'How can he read me so well?' She wondered, smiling as she shifted her chair closer to his. He stiffened immediately.
"Elena," he warned.
But she didn't listen as she leaned against him. Their hands were still intertwined. "Jake," she warned back, as she looked up at him. Their eyes met once more, his golden eyes hardened against her liquid amber, then he looked away as her smile grew. "Later, can I pet your ears?" she murmured, head resting on his shoulder.
He only glanced at her before he continued looking out into the crowd, his ears flicking, as his tail wagged lazily. "Maybe," he murmured. She only yawned in response as her eyelids started to feel heavy. But before they could close, she felt him jolt, waking her as she looked up at him.
As soon as she saw his eyes, she was wide awake. She looked around for monsters instinctively, her instincts screaming. "What?" She whispered, the wine still thick in her voice.
"Mike Scent, and Borris Dale, to our left," he said, nodding his head to the two approaching men. She silently cursed under her breath for drinking. Everyone knew the rumors about the two men and their corruption.
"Jake ca-"
"Yes, I will do most of the talking," He cut her off, and she felt a slight relaxation, but her gaze lingered on the two men. As unease settled in her chest, they continued to approach them.
"Why are they even here? Aren't they too old for this type of event?" she asked, looking back up at Jake. He nodded, his eyes narrowing, his tail lashing once before stilling.
"Lady Falmil, it's great to see you once more," Mike said, giving a small bow. Jake glanced at Elena as she gave a nod towards Mike.
"Good to see you, haven't seen you since my seventeenth birthday," Elena said through a faltering smile. The alcohol cracking her perfect mask.
Borris soon followed Mike with a bow, "It was a pleasure to witness your dance," he said, while giving a wide smile, showing a missing tooth.
L'amore only nodded as he stood up and approached them, as he reached out his hand toward Mike. Which Mike took as they both rose from their bow.
"L'amore, it's excellent to meet you," Mike said, shaking his hand. "If I may ask, how long have you known Lady Falmil?" He said, tilting his head slightly.
L'amore only released his hand, as he stayed silent for a moment, "Only a couple of months, maybe three? Why?" he asked in return as he held his hand out to Borris, and he took it as well.
Borris's eyes narrowed as he felt the grip of L'amore, noting how it felt reserved in power. As he gave a response. "Out of curiosity, of course, everyone is."
Mike nodded along as he asked, "How did you meet?" glancing at Elena.
"Library," L'amore said, bringing his hand back to his side. Mike gave a slight nod as he started to walk past L'amore to fully greet Elena. L'amore's tail flicked once as he watched Mike, but Borris spoke up.
"So, L'amore, what do you do that brought you to meet with Lady Falmil?" He asked, donning his smile. L'amore looked at him, green clashing against gold.
"I am a scholar," he said carefully. His ears twitched once in annoyance, realizing their plan of distracting him.
"Really?" Borris's eyes grew wide in confusion. "Because I spoke with the Niel twins and they said you were a merchant." His generous smile grew into a small frown.
Elena glanced at Borris and L'amore as Mike took the chair where L'amore was sitting, which was still next to her own. She leaned back, trying to gain distance. "Good to see you, and your beauty, which is still the same as the last time I saw you." He said, leaning in, closing the distance she tried to maintain.
His hair was combed back with streaks of grey, and he had a small beard on his chin. Wrinkles tugged at the corners of his brown eyes.
Elena stiffened as she tried to clear her mind of the drinks. "Thank you, Lord Scent," she said calmly, carefully maintaining her voice.
"Oh, please, there's no need for titles here," he said, waving as if clearing smoke.
Elena gave a curt nod, the unease growing. "Very well. Mike."
His smile grew as he glanced at L'amore and Borris, noting their tension, as he asked. "Weren't you supposed to be in talks about a marriage?" His gaze returned to her, and his brows rose.
Elena exhaled in weariness, "Yes, but I prefer not to be married off," her voice gaining a hint of flint as her eyes narrowed. Mike chuckled.
"With your beauty, many are jealous of that man," he said, giving a nod towards L'amore. She glanced at him, his tail lashing, and the unease spread.
She gave a wavering smile, the drinks clouding her mind. "I suppose so," she drawled out, slightly looking away as Mike leaned closer and she scooted her chair back in response.
Yet his smile only grew. Then something flashed behind his eyes as she felt something pass through the air. She looked back to see Borris wide-eyed as L'amore approached them.
His gaze hardened steel. His mask is a mix of gold and black. But it seemed to grow fully black, as if shadows covered it. His golden eyes gleaming as Mike leaned back swiftly, and he put a protective hand on Elena.
"I think Elena has had enough for today," L'amore said curtly, his tail lashing. Mike's eyes grew wide as he realized he was a mage. Elena sighed in relief, the unease burning away with the warmth of his hand.
Mike stared at L'amore and gave a small nod as he stood up and walked away, Borris following him.
Elena grabbed his hand and caressed it, as Jake watched the two disappear in the crowd. "Thank you," she muttered. His tail started to wag slightly as gold reappeared on his mask.
Mike looked at Borris and gave a questioning look. Borris sighed, "He knew of my pits, and even named a few," he said, shaking his head.
Mike's eyes went wide as he glanced back at the masked man. Elena stood up to walk with him. "Anything else?" Mike murmured.
"Said he was a scholar, who does trade when I questioned him," Borris said, both stopping to watch the two head up the stairs. "Even named a few products which align with your sales,"
Mike looked back at Borris, his brow furrowing. "He knows?"
Borris gave a curt nod, "On top of that, he's a mage, and a powerful one at that, don't know what type, but definitely concept-based."
Mike gritted his teeth as he realized how close he was to death.
As soon as Jake and Elena slipped out of the ballroom, the muffled swell of music and laughter dulled behind heavy doors. She tugged him down a quieter corridor, her heels scuffing faintly against polished stone, until she spotted a padded bench tucked beneath a wall sconce. The amber light flickered softly, casting long shadows across the tapestries.
She nearly collapsed onto the cushion, the velvet cool against her overheated skin. Jake steadied her, one hand firm at her elbow before straightening to stand watch, posture taut like he was back in the narrow caves of the Undercity.
Elena groaned, rubbing her temple. "Why did they come to us?" she muttered, the wine still buzzing faintly in her head.
"They were going after me, trying to pry information and making sure you couldn't save the day," he said, his tone flat.
Elena looked down, "I'm sorry, I knew people would ask and question you, but didn't expect them," she said, her shoulders shuddering under the weight of political theatrics. "This was supposed to be a fun night," she murmured, closing her eyes.
"It was a fun night," he said quietly. She looked up, and amber met gold as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She leaned into it instinctively. She realized he had taken off his gloves; she wasn't sure when, but the warmth they gave that spread through her was comforting.
"It was?" she murmured.
He nodded after a brief scan of the corridor, then slipped off his mask. Lamplight skimmed his pale skin and caught in the uneven fall of his dark hair. A familiar smirk tugged at his lips as his tail gave a lazy wag behind him and he knelt in front of her. His ears twitched, tracking distant footsteps, distant laughter, every whisper of sound.
Her breath hitched. Heat crept into her cheeks. She became suddenly aware of her own heartbeat, the soft rush of air in her lungs, and wondered if he could hear it too.
"It was," he repeated gently, his thumb rubbing slow circles into her shoulder.
She held in the groan that wanted to escape from his touch, but the drinks had loosened her mask, and it came out quietly, a soft and tiny vulnerability showing. She blushed harder as his smirk turned into a smile, and his tail wagging hastened for a moment before settling. As if he had to control it.
"Let's get you home, shall we?" he said, and she nodded, as her eyelids grew heavy once more. As he helped her stand, she tried to put on the perfect mask of nobility. But it didn't quite fit.
But so were many others.
When they finally reached the carriage, Jake had to all but lift Elena inside as her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed onto the cushioned seat with a groan, skirts tangling around her knees. After murmuring directions to the driver, Jake climbed in beside her, keeping a careful distance.
She ignored it.
Elena leaned into him, warm and unsteady, her head bumping against his shoulder. She squinted up at him, eyes glassy but intent.
"Can I pet your ears now?" she asked, voice rough with wine and something softer beneath it.
He stared at her for a beat, then huffed out a quiet laugh. His mask was already off, and that stupid, fond smirk tugged at his mouth before he could stop it. "You're impossible," he muttered.
Still, he dipped his head.
Her fingers found his ears immediately, slow and reverent, as if she were afraid they might vanish if she touched them too roughly.
"So fluffy," she murmured, awe slipping into her tone. "I always wanted to…"
She trailed off, but the words lingered.
Jake closed his eyes despite himself. His tail thumped once against the seat before he forced it still, jaw tightening as he swallowed the sound threatening to escape his throat. He leaned away—meant to—but the carriage jolted forward without warning.
Elena yelped.
Jake lost his balance and tipped forward, bracing himself too late. He landed in her breasts with a startled grunt, his head pressed far too close, her arms instinctively wrapping around him as if to steady them both.
For one awful, frozen second, neither of them moved.
Then Elena laughed—soft, breathless, completely unguarded—and hugged him closer without thinking. "Jake," she giggled, fingers still tangled in his ears. "You're so warm…"
His face burned. He went rigid, holding his breath like moving even an inch would shatter something fragile.
"Elena," he managed, voice strained. "That's— that's enough."
She stilled.
Awareness crashed over her all at once. She felt his breath against her skin, the tension in his body, the way he was very deliberately not touching her any more than necessary.
Her laughter died.
"Oh," she breathed.
Her cheeks flamed. Mortified, she gently pushed him away and scrambled upright, hands clasping in her lap as if she didn't trust them anymore. Jake pulled back just as quickly, turning his face away, ears flattened, tail stiff as a rod.
The carriage rattled on in painful silence.
"I—" she started, then stopped. Her voice was smaller when she tried again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"I know," he said quietly. Too quickly.
Neither of them looked at the other after that. Elena stared at the carriage floor, heart pounding, suddenly far too sober for comfort. Jake sat rigid beside her, gaze fixed on the window, pretending the night air was far more interesting than the noblewoman who had just held him like she wanted him to stay.
Both of them knew.
And neither of them said it.