Moments later,
Author
She moved along the eastern wall, using the crowd as cover. The target was still at his table, still reading. She needed a flanking position. Something with an exit behind her and his back in front of her. A server passed with a tray of bloodwine. She slipped behind him, using his bulk to block the sightlines from the center table.
She was three feet from the alcove when a hand closed around her wrist.
"You're in the wrong quadrant for what you're planning," a voice said. Low. Warm. Close enough that she felt the words against her neck, against the bare skin the gown didn't cover.
She turned.
He was taller up close. Taller than the photographs. Taller than memory allowed. His eyes were bright as rubies, and they looked at her like she was something he had been
