Chapter 12 #3
She couldn’t answer Rhyden—not with all the eyes on her.
Her eyes lifted to the rooftops, and she swore she saw a flash of darkness there.
She wondered what he saw when he peered down at her from where he was perched atop the building.
He was using a long-range holo-sight—the same he’d used to watch her through his window.
"All those ruffles…" Rhyden said gruffly. "You look good enough to eat alive."
The carpet was plush beneath her heels, and she teetered, regaining her balance quickly.
A guard stopped Rin with a hand on her arm. He wore gloves, and it was disconcerting to stare up into his featureless face, covered entirely by the sleekness of the dark mask. A gun was strapped over his back. "Back up." Even his voice was nondescript, monotone.
She saw a flash of red through the guards. They’d formed a circle, keeping curious guests and drones away.
Rin shook her head. "Let me through." Her voice sounded thin and small to her own ears.
The guard scoffed, the sound muffled by his mask.
Rin rolled her shoulders back. She was a Hunter.
And she was here for a purpose. She couldn’t help but wonder, were all these guards in on it, too?
What about President Shin? Did he know this gala was being used as a decoy for Aetherborn trafficking?
Luckily, they had their own decoy.
"I said, let me through." The level of Rin’s voice drew another guard’s attention.
A woman, if Rin had to guess, as her stature was taller; though, there wasn’t another way to tell. She also wore a mask, and her sharp voice cut through the clamor as she asked, "What business do you have with this trespasser?"
Rin narrowed her eyes. "He is here with me, as my plus-one."
Both guards barked a laugh.
A presence at her back made them both stop suddenly, heads tilting down.
Rin turned, only to meet President Shin’s eyes.
He gave a closed-lip smile, a hand falling to her bare shoulder.
She barely suppressed a shiver from his touch.
This close, she saw the lines on his face, the hardness to his eyes.
Once, she had looked up to him. Now, she just thought he was as duplicitous as her adoptive parents.
"Vesperin Blackfall." President Shin tipped his head to her. "What is the meaning of this?"
Blackfall—she bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.
One of the guards stepped up, as if wanting validation. "This little trainee says—"
Rin cut him off. "They are hounding my date for the night. I replied to the gala’s invitation, with both my name and the name of my plus-one. So tell me why he is not being allowed entry."
"There’s that backbone, wife," Rhyden purred. "Looks like a princess, but acts like a warrior."
Rin’s lips twitched downward. It was like he was purposefully teasing her, because he knew she couldn’t respond—yet.
President Shin was tall, easily able to see over the throng of guards, whereas she couldn’t see through their weapon-clad forms. His eyes widened in shock. "He is your guest for the night?"
Rin nodded jerkily. "Yes, President Shin, he is with me." She mimicked his tone, not saying his name.
The President’s eyes fell to the guards. "Let him through." Then he turned back to Rin. His words were sharp, measured. "I look forward to seeing you inside, Vesperin. Your parents are waiting." With that, President Shin turned on his heel, walking through the throng of gathered guests and guards.
When she turned back around, the guards had all parted, and she finally saw him.
He wore a red suit, a white shirt beneath, unbuttoned scandalously.
No tie—she wasn’t surprised. She spied the glittering edges of a body chain, draped around his neck and disappearing under the low cut of his white button-up beneath his form-fitting red coat.
Another chain hooked around the jewel-encrusted buttons.
His eyes were pronounced by a subtle dark liner, and his red lips were plush and sensual, the corners curving into a smirk—one just for her.
Lace peeked out from the cuffs of his coat.
It was a striking blend of masculine strength and delicate sensuality.
A ripple of murmurs moved through the guests nearby, no longer held back by the guards as they tried to push forward, wanting his attention. He was magnetic. Yet his eyes never strayed from her.
His pace was languid, and when he finally reached her, she heard the guests gasp as he wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her flush to his chest. He leaned down, smile nearly blinding. His purple eyes were deep with desire.
"Look at you, doll. You are absolutely gorgeous, and all for me."
"No, she’s fucking not all yours," Rhyden snarled. Cyrus huffed a low laugh, and they both ignored the jealous vampire.
"I am," said Rin, egging Rhyden on—and knowing the guests closest to them would hear.
Cyrus’s voice dropped. "Are you ready, doll?"
"Yes," she whispered, and his arm around her waist tightened, tugging her even closer, until she felt the press of his desire against her belly. She arched a brow up at him. "Now?"
"I can never help myself when it comes to you." Cyrus’s finger tapped against her waist.
Rin felt suffocated by the watching eyes. "There’s no going back after this."
Whatever Cyrus saw on her face made him dip down until his lips met hers. He smiled against her mouth, and when he pulled away, the flash of the drone cameras was blinding.
Cyrus stepped back, hand sensually stroking over her waist, down her forearm, until his fingers laced with hers. He stayed by her side, and the crowd parted just for them, revealing the red length of carpet rolled out. Daunting.
"Together," Rin said.
"Together," Cyrus echoed.
She heard Rhyden huff in her ear.
And they walked up the red carpet.
Drone cameras flashed, and the crowd murmured in shock as they finally got a glimpse of Cyrus—the former Prince of Sibeth.
He was the perfect distraction.
At the base of the steps, she reached for her gown to lift it, but Cyrus stilled her, gathering it in his hands behind her as he winked. "After you, doll."
The murmuring crowd grew even louder.
She knew he was only doing what they’d planned—make a spectacle out of it all—but her heart still fluttered.
Lucien had made her eat and drink some juice earlier today, watching as she took her medicine.
She wondered if Lucien, already inside among the wolves, was getting an alert on his phone about her high heart rate.
The thought made her steps lighter. He wasn’t near her, but they were tethered.
As she rose to the top of the steps, standing before the two large pillars that were wrapped in golden ribbon, fluttering in the evening breeze, she turned to stare out at the carpet.
It seemed shorter than it had felt, walking it.
Cyrus dropped her gown, and the butterfly wings fluttered from the soft, shifting movements. He didn’t seem daunted at all by the crowd. She had to remind herself he was probably used to this—being in the spotlight. In contrast, Rin felt like she might pass out from the attention.
"If we’re playing their game, let’s make sure they enjoy the show," said Cyrus, and she barely had time to make a sound of protest before he gripped her waist and dipped her low, until the softly curled ends of her hair brushed the marble steps.
Rin felt the tendons in her neck strain, trying to keep her head upright. "What are you doing?"
She was held up only by Cyrus’s strong arms. He stared down at her, and his profile was lit with the bright flash of the cameras. "Giving them what they want."
Then he pressed his lips to hers, and she could think of nothing else.
If the crowd had any reservations about what they were to each other, this kiss disproved them all.
Cyrus kissed her like he was starved, and when her eyes opened and she saw red glimmering around them, she realized he was. Starving for her.
When he pulled away, her lips felt swollen, and his were red and shiny with her gloss. The crowd was utterly silent.
In a fluid movement, Cyrus raised her, and the doors of the Academy opened. As they entered, they shut behind them with a resolute thud. Trapped, there was no escaping now.
Lucien sat at one of the ornate tables scattered around the edges of the room.
The ground floor of the Academy had been transformed into a decadent ballroom.
A hologram of falling Stars was cast onto the walls, drifting down onto the floor.
Servers in plain masks glided through the room with elegance, poised as they offered exquisite, rare drinks and appetizers from distant planets.
Lucien spotted sparkling liquors in beveled glasses, Caltan orange peels resting on the rim, dark amber briux, and pastel-green pastries with flaky outer shells that turned to smoke when bitten into.
A server approached, silent as they held out a tray.
Lucien stared at the thin wine glass, barely the size of his finger, and reached for one before he could stop himself.
He gave a nod of thanks to the server before they left, then drank it in one go.
It fizzed on his tongue, the flavor profile turning sharp and tangy, then sweet, then slightly bitter as it hit the back of his throat.
He hid a grimace, rubbing his hand over his jaw as he stared out at the dance floor, where Cyrus and Vesperin twirled with grace.
If he didn’t know his V girl so well, he’d assume she was unbothered by the stares and whispers.
But their Souls were forged from the same fabric.
He knew her better than himself—and he knew she was very bothered by the way the guests left a wide berth around them as they danced, talking behind their hands, eyes never straying far from the infamous Cyrus Soltren.