Page 160

The party carried on as if nothing had happened. Laughter rang through the bonfire clearing with students drinking freely, and the rhythmic pulse of the music keeping the energy alive.

Violet was back with her friends, enjoying the rest of the party — or so they he believed. Nonetheless, everyone was cool and It was almost as if the earlier tension had never existed.

Griffin and Alaric sat hunched over at one of the tables, slightly apart from the crowd, their drinks in hand as they brooded over their failed attempt at wooing the lady of their choice.

"Perhaps we came on too strong," Alaric muttered before downing his drink in one go.

"Perhaps," Griffin said dryly, tilting his head back and swallowing his own drink with unnecessary force.

The alcohol burned on the way down, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sting of rejection. Not even close.

Their faster metabolism tore through human liquor like air, leaving them only with the memory of the burn, not the intoxication. And right now, Griffin wished more than anything that he could get drunk.

Unfortunately, tonight was the night of the initiation, so he couldn’t get drunk either way. He needed to be fast on his feet seeing this was a tradition, he especially as a cardinal alpha, couldn’t ignore. The fate of the new pack members—and apparently, Violet—would be decided tonight.

Her name alone made his chest tighten.

Griffin didn’t hate her for rejecting him. He respected her choice. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

For the second time in his life, a girl he had sincerely liked had turned him down. At least Violet had been polite. Not like Elsie, who had shredded his heart and stomped on the remains as if they were nothing.

Alaric’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Don’t tell me you’re giving up." His eyes were scrutinizing him.

Griffin let out a scoff. "You heard the lady. She doesn’t want to be disturbed."

"You also heard the lady," Alaric countered smoothly, leaning forward. "She doesn’t know our way. She needs time. Time to be convinced. Time to be taught." His lips curled into something almost wicked. "Time to be seduced."

Griffin met his gaze, a heavy and unspoken emotion flickering in his own eyes before he looked away.

Alaric smirked, sensing his hesitation. "I didn’t take you for a quitter, Griffin. The Ironlady would be disappointed." He mimicked his mother’s voice with a mocking lilt.

Griffin growled in warning, but Alaric pressed on.

"The fact that she’s struggling with her feelings about you, about us, proves she’s not like Lucille. it confirms that Asher doesn’t have control over her mind."

He leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink. "Think about it. Lucille didn’t give a damn about anyone as long as she got what she wanted. Asher could’ve slaughtered us in front of her, and she wouldn’t have blinked."

Griffin exhaled sharply through his nose.

"So Asher doesn’t control her, and she’s not Lucille.

But just like she said, Asher Nightshade is still winning.

He wants us all chasing after her. Maybe Violet did good by rejecting me.

..." His voice hardened as he took another sip. "...because I’m not in the mood to be anyone’s pawn. "

"And you won’t be," Alaric assured him. "We’ll deal with Asher while Violet comes around."

Griffin huffed, "I don’t know about that. But at least your relationship is safe."

Alaric let out a relieved breath. Despite everything, Violet hadn’t fully shut him out. She was furious, sure, but she hadn’t given up on him. Just... not on them. She couldn’t handle both of them.

"It’ll work out in the end," Alaric said with conviction.

Griffin hummed, half-convinced, as he took another drink.

Then, a sudden commotion pulled their attention. They both turned in time to see Violet’s roommates giggling as they dragged her toward the dance floor.

Griffin and Alaric could tell Violet resisted at first with her stiff and reluctant posture, but it was obvious her roommates weren’t taking no for an answer.

Coincidence or not, the upbeat music changed into something slow, and sensual, the bassline thrumming through the air. It was a sultry and magnetic rhythm made for bodies to move together.

At first, Violet’s movements were hesitant, rigid, as if she was painfully self conscious of the eyes on her. But then something in her shifted and she let go.

Her hips began to sway, slow and smooth, matching the rhythm effortlessly. She rolled her body in a fluid motion, her arms lifting as she spun, her hair whipping behind her.

Her roommates joined in, pressing against her, moving as one. They laughed, feeding off each other’s energy, with their hands grazing one another, and bodies brushing as they teased without meaning to, seducing without intent.

And yet, even among them, Violet stood out. She wasn’t trying to draw attention. But she did.

Her movements became bolder, more enticing. She arched her back, tilting her head as she let the music guide her.

Then, as if sensing their gaze, Violet’s eyes locked onto Alaric and Griffin.

They expected her to look away, to avoid them after what had happened. But she didn’t.

Instead, her lips curled into the smallest, knowing smirk. Then, slowly, deliberately, she ran her hands down her body, her fingertips grazing her curves before she turned, rolling her hips in a move so devastatingly sensual and so sinful, it was almost obscene.

Heat surged through them both like a strike of lightning.

"Fuck," Alaric cursed under his breath. His fingers tightened around his drink as he glanced down, only to see a very noticeable problem forming in his trousers.

He looked up in time just to see Griffin glancing at his own lap and their eyes met. He knew at once.

Griffin’s expression darkened. "Not a word."

Alaric, the bastard, burst into laughter, unable to help it. It was going to be very fun watching Griffin try to stay away from her.

But the laughter was short-lived because a sudden horn blared in the distance.

It was not just them, but every conversation in the party, laughter halted instantaneously. Including the music.

Both Alaric and Griffin’s gazes met again and this time, there was no humor.

The meaning was clear.

It was time.