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“Theo?”

“Hey, shorty. Looking good.” He glances around us to see if we’re alone and then steps in. “You happy?”

No. I’m probably the furthest away from happy I’ve ever been, but I put myself in this situation when I said no to him. “I’m okay,” I say instead. “How are things? Did you guys get over me yet?”

“Nowthat’simpossible.” His gaze roams over my dress. “How could anyone get over you?”

His finger slides down my cheek affectionately, but his touch is ripped away before I realize it really happened. “She’s not fucking yours!” Draven growls, a familiar snapping noise filling in the air around us, and then he’s grabbing my face with both hands to look me over. “You okay? He touched you.”

What?

What just —

Oh god.

Stepping back, my eyes drop to the floor and I meet Theo’s unseeing, blank gaze. Theo. My favorite Keeper, the one I’d have said yes to if it were just him.

“Why?” I ask softly, voice broken and throat dry. “He just wanted to know I was happy.”

“He touched you,” he repeats. “He touched you, and you looked sad. Like you wanted to run away.”

“What the hell happened here?” one of the security guards hisses, his head shaking at Draven like this isn’t the first time he’s had to clean up after him.

“He touched Alex’s betrothed. I only did what he would have done if he was here to see it himself.” It’s not true, and again the man looks at him in a way that says he knows it. “I did what had to be done, Marcellus.”

“I’ll clean it up and notify the Provost.”

Draven takes my arm and drags me away, my feet tripping over themselves so much I’d fall if he didn’t have such a firm grip on me, and before I know it I’m in a dark corner with him crowding my space. “No one is allowed to touch you now, Sullivan. No one but me.”

His hand squeezes my hip possessively, and I realize that as much as I cared for Theo, he had limits. Things he wouldn’t do for me, to protect me.

The bastard son of Ephraim Creed has no such limits.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” I whisper. “He was a Keeper.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” One look into his blue eyes tells me he means it with all of him. “The Keepers are as replaceable as I am. You, on the other hand... are not. I’ll kill them all if I have to, little keeper. You belong to me now.”

His mouth crashes to mine, and suddenly, I don’t care where we are, what people will say, or what Ephraim will do. This feels good. Like something clicking into place that hasn’t fit right for years.

My tongue slips into his mouth as I fumble with his belt, his erection straining against his slacks as he ruts against me, growling into my mouth.

“Wait.” He pulls back, pressing his forehead against mine. “I’m not getting interrupted when I have you the first time. Not here. You want it, little keeper, come to my party tonight.”

I guess this is karma. I made him wait months, he thinks he can make me wait a couple of hours. “I hate you,” I whisper, pulling him into another kiss just to feel his lips one more time. “You’re... you’re insane.”

“I know,” he mumbles against my mouth, his hands lifting my dress slightly as he kisses me even deeper, but he yanks himself away with a grunt. “Say you’ll be there.”

Shaking my head, I curl my hair behind my ear and fix my dress. “I—I have to get back in there. I’ve already been gone too long, and your dad made it really clear earlier that I have to convince him I’m trying. I’ll see you, Dray.”

With a heavy heart and shaking legs, I skirt around him and head back into the ballroom.

This night is far from over.