“Mr Dickens.” The voice, a sound so clear, pure and hauntingly melodic, whispered his name once again.
A shiver rippled down Charles’ back, his breath hitching in his throat. They knew his name, and if they knew his name, then they most likely knew why he was here.
Florence shifted beside him, her hand grabbing the elbow of his jacket urgently.
“Mr Dickens, I believe it’s time we left,” she hissed softly in his ear.
His hand shot up sharply to silence her. Why did she always have to be so quick to run away when things were only just starting to get interesting?
“Very well played, Miss Walters,” he said with a slight nod.
Inside, he swore at himself. He had honestly believed that he held all the cards. He had been convinced that he had her backed into a corner, that she was shaken. Not once had he seen through her mask – not for a single moment had he suspected the hand she was concealing. But the game was far from over, and if she thought she had him on the back foot, all the better.
It was in precisely those moments that people let their guard slip.
He turned from the smiling face of Catherine Walters to confront the source of this new voice.
Through the dim haze of the saloon, he could just make out the dark, slender silhouette of a figure, a figure that was most unmistakably female.
“It would appear that you have me at quite the disadvantage, miss,” Charles said, abandoning his Irish persona and letting his accent slip away like a discarded costume. “You know of me, but I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of your acquaintance?”
Her hips swayed to a hypnotic rhythm, a soft, silken rustle accompanying every movement as she seemed to glide effortlessly towards him. The drifting smoke parted before her like a curtain as one elegant step brought her into the ruby-tinted light. She fixed her eyes on him, dazzling emerald-green eyes which slanted upwards almost imperceptibly at the corners. They were not the eyes of a human; these eyes had a distinctly feline look about them. Her ears, like triangles of the deepest velvet, rose through her raven hair, which cascaded around her shoulders in delicate waves and framed a face of perfect porcelain.
The sheer, diaphanous pink silk of her robe whispered against her flawless skin, clinging tantalisingly to the gentle curves of her slim form. Two sinuous black tails followed her, flicking from side to side with a slow, languid grace.
An intoxicating smile parted her crimson lips. The notes from the pipa faded into silence as she spoke with a voice soft and timeless, like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. “My name is Miao. And yes, I do know of you, Mr Dickens. Indeed, I had been told that you might pay us a visit tonight.” Her smile deepened as she continued, her eyes holding his. “Perhaps we could retire someplace and allow ourselves to become better acquainted?”
Charles’ heart pounded violently against his rib cage, the room a dizzying blur. Those alluring green eyes were the only things holding him steady, the only things preventing him from being swept away to some place unknown.
Something tugged at his elbow. Why was he here? He was sure that there had been a purpose to his visit. Had there been someone with him?
Irritation flared inside him as he yanked his arm away from whatever nuisance pulled at his sleeve.
His eyes slipped from hers, sliding down over the soft curves of her body. The silken robe, as thin as morning mist, drifted open with every breath to reveal a devastating glimpse of the beautiful, enticing form beneath.
“You seem confused, my sweet, darling man?” she purred in a low, velvet voice.
She glided closer until the warmth of her body radiated through his clothes. With an agonising slowness, her long, slender fingers closed around his chin, jolting his head back and forcing his eyes to meet her captivating, glowing green gaze.
His body shook as her delicate touch sent a fiery shiver rippling through his every nerve. The air around them thickened with her exotic scent, a heady aroma of spice, honey and opium.
Suddenly something stung his ears – a high-pitched whine. For a fraction of a second, he could almost have sworn he heard his name in the stabbing vibrations, as if someone was calling to him. A ridiculous notion; there was no one else. He couldn’t remember ever knowing anyone other than Miao.
There was no one other than him and her.
His name? Did he even have a name? He couldn’t remember ever having a name; hers was the only name he knew.
Her eyes locked onto his.
Had he heard something? A noise? No, there was nothing else. The void spread out endlessly around him, whoever he was.
The universe was nothing but a vacuum; nothing else existed except for Miao.
Softly, she traced the line of his jaw with a long, lacquered fingernail, leaving behind an electric tingle, a trail of pins and needles that prickled delightfully at the skin beneath his beard. Her caress continued its excruciatingly slow pace down his neck. She dragged her finger, grazing the hot, pulsing line of his jugular before stopping just a hair’s breadth above the top button of his collar.
As she leant forward, her warm scent flooded his senses. His mind swam; any remaining thoughts slipped through his fingers like grains of fine sand, disappearing into the formless ether around them.
Stepping back from him with gentle elegance, her bare feet padded with a cat’s silent grace. The delicate arch of her instep pressing soundlessly on the black, featureless ground.
“Come…” Her voice, pure and clear, filled his mind. Her lips didn’t move as she spoke; the sound didn’t come from her. It rose up from inside of him. It filled him from within, resonating from his very bones. “Come, leave this rough world of violence, suspicion and pain. Let me show you one of silk, pleasure and desire.”
Her hands followed the line of his lapel, her fingers dancing over the fine purple fabric before taking both of his hands into her gentle, inescapable clutch. Her skin was smooth and warm, like a polished marble hearth before a roaring fire.
Leaning forward, her lips brushed lightly against his earlobe, her breath soft on his cheek.
“You are mine now,” she whispered.