Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“I don’t know how to tango,” I said as a Gotan Project song started.
“You’ve been away from Latin men too long,” he said. “Follow my lead, mariposa.”
What made him think I’d been away at all? I’d lived in North America eight years, but the Latina in me would never fade. I did, in fact, have some basic knowledge of the dance and fell into step with him.
“We’re a match,” he said, his eyes drifting over the butterflies in my hair.
“I’m sorry?”
“Our costumes.”
There was no obvious correlation between a sugar skull and a butterfly, but I didn’t dare contradict him.
“Why the monarch?” he asked.
I turned my cheek. Beside us, a minotaur and a French maid danced a beat faster. I wasn’t going to tell this calavera what monarchs meant to me, so I resorted to facts. “It feeds on poison.”
“Milkweed—to render itself unpalatable to predators,” he said, sliding his hand to the center of my back where my leotard dipped. I stiffened as he dug his fingertips under the straps of my wings, into my exposed flesh. “One bitter taste, and the hunter backs off.”
His skin touched mine and stole my focus, just like that. It had taken Diego years to make his first move. Against my will, my nipples hardened between us. “I—I think it’s clever that they do that.”
“It’s just nature,” he said. “Monarchs also represent the souls of the departed. Like me.”
I looked up at him, unnerved at the way his black eyes drank me in. “You’re very much alive.”
Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “It’s said if you whisper your desire to one, it can deliver your wish to the gods on quick and soundless wings.”
I realized he was dancing me farther from the other partygoers. “I should get back,” I said.
“To?”
“My . . . fiancé,” I said, hoping it would fizzle his interest in me.
He stopped dancing. “Your fiancé? What about California?”
My mouth fell open, but I quickly closed it. I should’ve known better than to look caught off guard, having been raised by masters of schooling their emotions. “Do I know you?”
He hesitated before resuming our tango. He danced with precision and a peculiar grace, like a hunting lion. “I detect an American accent.”
Somehow, that didn’t give me any relief. “I have to go,” I said, trying to pull away.
He tightened his grip on me, and with what I suspected was hardly any effort on his part, kept me where I was. “But I haven’t whispered my wish in your ear yet.”
I swallowed dryly, wondering where Diego had gone. Surely, he wouldn’t like to find me pressed against another man. “People are waiting for me.”
His roughened hand constricted around mine. I followed his gaze to the diamond ring on my finger. “Which people?” he asked.
Would my father’s wrath be safer than where I stood now? The mystery around this man stopped me from telling him who I was. “People who would not like me to go missing.”
“Then perhaps they shouldn’t have left you all alone, mariposita.”
“Don’t call me that.” Sometimes, my parents had called me their little butterfly. Even my father knew better than to use that nickname anymore. I looked around the man, panic rising the more tightly he held me.
He drew me flush to him, the warmth of his body contradicting his cold stare. “Then what should I call you?”
My gaze locked onto Diego as he separated from my father and scanned the room.
“And nobody left me alone,” I said, ignoring the man’s question. “I can take care of myself.”
“Is that so?” he asked. “Regardless, I wouldn’t take the chance if you were mine.”
If I was his. My chest rose and fell a little faster, but this time, it wasn’t in fear. His tight, possessive hold made it feel as if he already thought I belonged to him. For a split second, the thought of being at his mercy both scared and excited me. “But I’m not yours,” I said to gauge his reaction.
“Are you suggesting I remedy that?”
How bold. Nobody in this world had ever come on to me like this. “You could try,” I said, “but I can promise it wouldn’t go well for you.”
“I like a challenge. Because it doesn’t sound to me as if your fiancé deserves you. He’d be wise to recognize that someone else might come along and show you that.”
I didn’t know many men around here who would speak so shamelessly about another man’s fiancée. “You’re worse than that hag of a fortune teller,” I bit out.
One dark eyebrow rose, his interest obviously piqued. “What’d she tell you?”
I looked around his shoulder and saw Diego wipe his temple as he started toward the dancefloor. He still hadn’t spotted me, but his movements became agitated. I tried frantically to make eye contact. “She told me not to dance with masked strangers.”