The Knave of Hearts

Jasper

“He’s coming this way,” Charlotte whispered digging her elbow into Jasper’s side. “Close your mouth.”

Jasper forced his lips into a stiff smile as the Knave held out his hand and he accepted it. “Hello.”

“Ah, my King, greetings,” the Knave of Heart’s grin was charming and wicked and his hand in Jasper’s lingered beyond a strictly polite handshake. “I promise I won’t steal your diamonds.” His grey-blue eyes held Jasper’s just as firmly as his hand did. Locking eyes in such a way with the masked stranger was intense and intimate, and Jasper found himself flushed and flustered, the throb of his cock echoing the race of his heart.

“Just your heart.”

Jasper wasn’t sure he heard the words, or simply wished that they had been spoken, and yet they hung in the air between them, sending a shiver of desire across his skin. The rest of the party, the press of bodies around them, the cacophony of voices fighting to be heard over the music, all faded away. They were alone in the ballroom with the silver moonlight lighting them from above.

In a movie, the Knave of Hearts would step into Jasper, and they would dance, circling the patterns gilded into the floor. Was this it then? Jasper wondered. Was this what it felt like when you met your special person, your fated mate? He hadn’t even seen the man’s face, hidden as it was behind the mask with only the strong line of cleanshaven jaw, the soft pout of his full lips, and those eyes, like a stormy sky, visible.

“Knave,” Charlotte broke the moment reaching her hand to the young man. “I believe you belong to my court.”

The Knave of Hearts released Jasper in order to lift her hand to his lips as he bowed over it. “My Queen, it is my pleasure.”

“You truly are a naughty knave, with your eyes on my brother’s jewels,” she scolded him flirtatiously. “And so, you owe me a dance, during which you will tell me all about your nefarious plans, and what you will do with the spoils.”

“Of course, I could never refuse my queen,” dutifully the Knave filled out the dance card dangling from Charlotte’s wrist. His eyes met Jasper’s again, and the temptation of those full lips curled in a smile before he stepped away into the crowd.

“Focus,” Charlotte nudged him. “Or you’ll give him away.”

“Hmm?” Jasper glanced down at her.

“He’s here on a fake invite,” she flicked open her lace fan and fluttered it under her nose, hiding that she spoke. “I know everyone under thirty on the guest list, and I do not know him.”

“You don’t?” Jasper’s eyes tracked the Knave through the crowd, rubbing his fingers against his thumb in the memory of the other man’s hand in his. The Knave claimed a glass of champagne and sampled a hors d’oeuvres, standing angled as if he were part of a conversation, but not included. Their eyes met across the room and the other man smiled.

“Perhaps he is the plus one of someone?” Jasper’s cheeks heated and he was grateful for the mask.

“You can’t be that foolish, Jasper,” she snapped her fan shut and rapped him on the shoulder sharply with it. “He is one of us, but not one of us, which only really leaves one answer as to who he is. The question is he here as some stupid dare amongst his peers, in which case he’s harmless, and we can let him be. Or is he here to cause mischief and to disrupt the party? It’s your job therefore to determine which one.”

“And how do I do that?” Jasper wondered.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Try talking to him. Off you run now,” she flicked her fan around and jabbed him in the hip with it, nudging him forwards. “And remind him that he owes me a dance.”

“Talk to him,” Jasper said to himself under his breath.

The Knave had moved to a back wall, near one of the doorways out onto the balcony, the filmy curtains billowing a little in the breeze. His eyes were on Jasper, and his smile smoldered.

“Fuck,” Jasper whispered, feeling his body heat and his cock strain against his trousers making him grateful for the ridiculously stiff coat. As he drew nearer, the Knave took a champagne bottle out of the ice-bucket and then, without breaking eye contact with Jasper, stepped backwards through the curtains.

Jasper glanced around him. The first dance was just starting, and all eyes were on the center of the room where the dancers were gathering. He saw Charlotte step out with a King of Spades, and the approval that rippled through the audience. He slipped under the edge of the curtains into the cooler night. There was no one on the balcony, the sandstone still holding puddles from the recent rain that was no doubt responsible for the absence.

He saw the Knave take the stairs down to the garden and cross the grass to the maze, pausing to raise the champagne bottle. “Thirsty, King of Shiny Things?” He teased. “I hear there’s a folly in the center of this maze. I bet you know the way to get to it. I’ll share the champagne with you if you show me.”

Jasper looked up at where the roof of the folly was visible amongst the winding green and then at the Knave. “It will be a thirsty walk,” he replied.

“Will it be?” The Knave’s teeth flashed in a grin, and he stepped into the entrance of the maze.

Jasper glanced over his shoulder at the house, it’s windows all lit in a brilliant display of excess, the music carrying across the garden to where he stood. His parents would be angry at his absence, he knew. But… He looked into the maze. The Knave had reached the first intersection and was about to turn right. “Left,” he said and trotted to catch up. “Take the first left.”

“Left,” the Knave repeated with a smile. “But it’s a dead end down there.”

“It looks like a dead end,” Jasper agreed stepping past him and heading down the maze. “But like any good labyrinth…” He waited until the Knave joined him, the final steps into the dead end revealing a parting in the hedge. “Not everything is as it seems.”

The Knave chucked and slid through the narrow opening.

“Turn right at the pawn,” Jasper told him as he followed. “I am Jasper, by the way. What is your name?”

“Isn’t that the point of a masked ball?” The Knave replied, pausing by the stone statue of the chess piece, and stroking his hand over the rounded top suggestively, whilst smiling and holding Jasper’s eyes. “That names and faces don’t matter.”

“You know my name,” Jasper pointed out trying not to get flustered by the sensual promise behind the other man’s flirtations. “It’s only fair that I know yours.”

“I did not ask for your name, you gave it to me,” the Knave replied lightly, pausing at the next intersection, standing precisely in the centre of the path so that when Jasper slid past, their bodies brushed against each other, and Jasper breathed in the skin-warmed scent of bergamot and spice.

He felt the Knave’s free hand rest briefly on his hip before the completion of his step took him away from that subtle touch. It had been enough though, combined with the Knave’s subtle aftershave, to spike fire through Jasper and he decided to stop playing around.

“This way,” he said, and led the way through the next three turns. “There isn’t actually a way to the folly from the maze, the ring is unbroken all the way around,” he told the Knave as they reached the inner hedge. “But,” he stepped through where the hedge was layered, set slightly in front of each other, creating the illusion of an unbroken circle, but the weave of the branches thin enough to pass through. “If you know the secrets of the maze, you know how to get through.”

“Not great on the clothes, though,” the Knave commented as he followed Jasper through, the branches scraping and trying to cling.

“No,” Jasper looked up at the folly. “But I don’t normally come here in evening wear.”

The Knave laughed, wild and wicked. A siren’s call. Jasper knew enough about the world to know that he was being reckless. He didn’t know the Knave’s name, nor had he even looked upon his face. Plus, Jasper wasn’t out to his family or his pack, and, if Charlotte was right, the Knave was from the Morrison pack, their enemy…

If this was a fated mate, fate had a bad sense of humor.

It might not matter, he told himself. It might improve the relationship between the packs, even, for the future Compton pack leader to take a Morrison pack member as his mate. And if it didn’t then the Knave could change packs and come live with Jasper. Jasper’s parents would be crushed to learn of Jasper’s sexuality, but Charlotte would have children, and Jasper could name one of them his heir… It could work, he told himself. It could.

“Come,” he held out his hand in invitation. “Come inside.”