Malachi must have been thinking along similar lines. He used one arm to hold me close, and then took my hand and tucked our entwined fingers against his chest. “This way,” he said with a devastating smile, “I can be sure you won’t draw with your strongest hand, which greatly increases my chances of survival.”

I laughed. “Good thinking.” I was surprised I could actually get the words out; the feel of his body against mine was rapidly turning my bones and brain to jelly. It took everything I had not to lean my head against his chest, not to stare without blinking at the harsh beauty of his face.

We were barely moving, barely swaying, but under my skin, there were earthquakes, tidal waves. Solar flares. I’d danced with Ian a few times tonight, and it had been fun, but it hadn’t felt like this. No one else could affect me like this. No one else could simultaneously terrify me and fill me with this kind of warmth. I didn’t want it to be this way. I didn’t like the idea that anyone had that firm a grip on my heart, especially someone who had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with said heart. But I’d fought it for so long, and there was nothing to do now but admit defeat. Whether he wanted me or not, I was his. Only his.

My rebellious fingers rose from his shoulder to the back of his neck, seeking skin-to-skin contact. And when it happened, his eyes fell shut for a moment before his expression shifted into playful and casual once again. Was I making that up, that I’d affected him like that? Was I imagining that the steely arm around my back tightened, pulling me even closer? Was I the only one who felt the electricity as his fingers slid up to brush the bare skin of my back?

“Are you having a good time?” I asked, hating the way it came out breathless and halting.

He shrugged. “It’s been a complicated evening. You? Is he treating you well?” His eyes looked black in the low lights, and they were focused on mine, waiting for my answer.

“Ian is totally nice. I don’t think he has a mean bone in his body.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his eyes honing in on where Ian and Laney were dancing.

I glanced over, too, to see Ian pull Laney close and guide her head to his shoulder. He cradled her tenderly, stroking her silky red hair as they swayed to the music. Fear for him zipped through me at the frightening image of him facing off with Malachi, a matchup that wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. “They’ve been friends since elementary school,” I said quickly. “I’m sure he’s just—”

“He’s comforting her,” Malachi said quietly, turning back to me.