Maisie
The worst that could happen, it turned out, was Kisten doing… nothing.
He didn't speak. Barely looked at me. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, like he was somewhere else entirely as he moved us across the dance floor mechanically. I danced stiffly in his arms, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Behind me, I could feel the heat of my mates' rage like a living thing, pressing against my spine. They were holding back because of the truce. Just barely.
And still, Kisten did nothing.
Until the music began to fade.
He suddenly pulled me in hard, one hand locking around my waist, the other gripping my shoulder. His face had changed. The blankness was gone, replaced by something sharp and panicked.
"Mother is watching," he whispered, voice rough against my ear. His breath was uneven. "Where will you be on Samhain?"
I paused. "Samhain?"
