Chapter Fifty-two

He was wearing a mask when Eleanor gazed up to see whose arms she had collided into. His grip on her was strong and firm, almost welcoming.

She could make out the features of his face despite his mask, the contours of his sharp jaw, and his lips that curved up in a smile for no reason. Who is this and what was so amusing to him?

"Pardon me," Eleanor apologized as she took a step back, adjusting the mask on her face that had gone slightly askew. "I did not look where I was going."

"The ball only just began, Pretty bird. Where could you possibly be in a rush to?" He dragged impassively.

Away from Drakken and his ethereal looking betrothed, Eleanor thought. She glanced over her shoulders to the dance floor where he continued to hold the vampire princess in his arms. Eleanor's waves of jealousy doubled.

The man in front of her saw her attention drifting to the dance floor and smiled again, holding out his hands. "Should you care for a dance?"

Eleanor panicked, taking more steps back from