Page 95 of Storm of Shadows

I admit, I understand his skepticism. I was fucking surprised myself when the girl appeared to have no idea who I was. I mean, everybody knows who the fuck I am. First-born son of the pack leader, pretty much pack leader myself these days. Everybody – even those living out in the most distant parts of the realm – knows that Dray Eros is a shifter. At least, that’s what I thought.

“No fucking idea,” I chuckle, “she let me bury my nose right up and personal in her cunt. Man, she smells so fucking goood.” I shake my body. “I want to eat her out so badly.” Thorne turns his head and glares at me. “Oh come on. You don’t want to fuck her with your fingers, get her juices all over those gloves of yours?” I swing back my head, bouncing on the spot. “I’d like to see that.”

“Why was she late?” Beaufort asks. He’s still pissed about that. Probably even more pissed that I got to spend time with her and not him.

“Drunk,” I say.

Thorne halts, even more thunder crashing over his face than usual, actual lightning skipping in the air around him. I take a step back. I don’t want to be fried hot dog.

“She was drunk,” he growls lowly.

“Yeah, was. I gave her purified water. She’ll be sober as a saint by the time we return.”

“We should go back.”

“No point. The girl needs to sit and sober up.”

“We should be watching over her.”

“This party will be shit anyway,” Beaufort mumbles in agreement.

“This was your plan,” I point out. “Deny her our attention until she cracks.”

He grunts. “Yeah, and we have to show our faces.”

“Anyway, the party was pretty fun last week.” I rub my knuckles. “You seemed to enjoy yourself,” I say to Thorne.

He glares straight ahead and I shove my hands into my pockets and sigh.

Obviously, it’s not going to be as fun tonight. But I have a feeling it could be once we’re home again. Because I have a feeling that tonight might be the night that our little thrall finally caves.

Chapter Forty-Two

Beaufort

I squeeze through the heaving bodies, waving at the people who call out to me, smiling at those who reach for me, but slipping from their grips. I make my way to the back of the room and survey the party.

Tonight’s party is themed. Many of the students are dressed in togas or colorful robes; several have laurel wreaths propped on their heads. Vines dripping with ripe grapes wind around the room and gold platters hold towers of food; jugs full of burgundy wine stand on all the surfaces.

It’s no different from last week’s party though. Same people, same music, same gossip, same dull atmosphere. Except tonight the Hardies aren’t being so damn blatant. They’re huddled in the corner with their brattish thrall still nursing their injuries and hurt pride from last week most probably.

I have no desire to be here. But I have to keep up appearances so the others don’t suspect how much our little thrall is getting to me. I don’t want them realizing how much her continueddefiance has wound me up. We need to keep the façade that we are in control, that everything is just fine.

We are having fun, aren’t we? So the fuck what if our thrall isn’t with us.

I sweep my gaze over the room. No one else has caused any trouble or attempted to challenge our dominance since we took the Hardies out. I don’t think anyone will for a long, long time.

Dray is already dancing with some girls in the center of the room. Thorne is hugging some dark corner somewhere. To the side, the Smyte twins are balancing on either arm of a chair, their thrall pinned between them, his cheeks pink and his eyes glazed.

Henrietta catches me looking at them and obviously mistakes my passing glance as interest. She smiles at me and slithers up onto her feet. I immediately turn my head away. I have no intention of speaking to Henrietta tonight. I don’t have the patience for it.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get the hint and is sidling up to me in the next moment, a glass of red wine in either hand.

“You look thirsty,” she says, offering me one of the glasses.

“I’m not.”

She laughs, placing the unwanted glass down on a side table and taking a sip of her own. She wears a black shiny jumpsuit and her auburn hair is scraped up onto the top of her head and braided over her shoulder. She reminds me of a scorpion. One with a deadly sting in its tail.