Chapter 20 #2
I exhale in relief. “Please don’t worry about it.
” I grin. “I’ve got an older brother, and I’ve spent so much time chasing girls away from him.
” I giggle. “It turned out to be a wasted effort. He’s gay anyway.
” I lower my voice. “Also, Vaughn and I…we’re not like a thing. ” I lean closer. “He’s, uh…my Adept.”
Sabine smiles and then turns to signal a server walking past us with a tray of champagne. He bends down so she can pluck two flutes off it. Then she turns back to me. “Can we start over?”
I exhale again, grinning. “I’d love to.”
“Great.”
She hands me my glass, which has a little candy bubbling and fizzing in the bottom of it.
“It’s supposed to mineralize the grapes or…some shit,” Sabine grins, rolling her eyes. “I dunno. Vaughn's a wine nerd. He says it’s supposed to make great champagne taste even better.”
“Well, who can argue with that,” I smile. We clink our glasses, and I take a sip.
“Well,” Sabine sighs. “I should go mingle. But I’m glad we talked, Evelina.”
“Oh, Evie is fine, really,” I smile back. “I’m glad we talked, too.”
She winks and start to maneuver her chair around. “Oh, and Evie?” Sabine glances over her shoulder at me. “You don’t actually have to squat around people in wheelchairs. I was just making that up to be a cunt.”
She laughs as she rolls away.
Note to self: don’t get on her bad side. I mean, Jeez.
I walk through the crowd, sipping my champagne. There’s no sign of Gabby. But when I see Carson standing alone on the large terrace outside, I figure it's my chance to perhaps get anything more concrete from him.
“Great view, huh?”
He turns to glare at me over his shoulder, and I hug myself against the sudden chill that ripples through me as I step out onto the empty terrace.
“Well well well,” Carson murmurs. “What do we have here?”
I smile weakly. “I’m not sure we met at the last party.” I stick out my hand as I walk over. “I’m Evelina. Nikitin.”
He snorts. “I know who you are. Just like you know who I am. Let’s skip the polite banter, shall we?” he growls.
Okay, obviously he’s in a foul mood. But maybe that means I can pry more out of him if I’m delicate about it.
“So—”
“Where’d your little friend go,” Carson interrupts, his voice sharp.
I frown. “Little friend?”
“Gabriella.”
“Oh!” I turn to glance back at the party through the floor to ceiling windows. “I…don’t actually know?”
“Join the club,” he grunts, standing up from where he’s been leaning on the railing. “Anyway, great talk, distraction.”
My brow furrows. “Distraction?”
He smirks. “It would seem you’ve captured Bancroft's attention,” he grunts.
I start to smile as my face heats.
Carson laughs mirthlessly. “Not necessarily a good thing, FYI.” He starts to walk past me back to the party. “So good luck with that.”
Shoot shoot shoot.
I need more information.
“Hey…” I clear my throat. “I heard that jerk Anderson talking about your mom.”
Carson's broad shoulders tighten, and I shiver when he turns to look at me.
“The fuck did you just say?”
I gasp quietly, edging away from him as he advances on me. My back hits the terrace railing, and I shiver when an electric zap flies over my skin.
What the heck was that?
I can't dwell on it. Carson’s looming right in front of me, caging me in as he grips the railing.
“Something you’d care to add about her?” he hisses.
“No!” I blurt. “Not at all! God, I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant screw him. Anderson, that is. Not God.” I laugh weakly.
Carson presses a little closer to me, and that same electric sensation flickers over my skin, taking my breath away.
“My own mother…” I frown. “She died when I was young. People used to tease me about it sometimes in school, and it hurt. A lot.” I smile wryly at him. “I'm just saying, I get moms being a hot button.”
“Unfortunately,” he growls, “my mom is still alive.” He smiles at the shocked look on my face. “And a giant cunt.” His gaze stabs into me, and for a second, I remember his conversation with Gideon about throwing someone off a roof.
And here I am, alone with him on the terrace, what feels like a mile above the city below.
Suddenly, he exhales slowly and shakes his head, and the tension drains from my neck as he backs away, giving me a little more space.
“Sorry,” he grunts, flashing a quick grin. “Like you said, it’s a hot button. Cunt or not, she’s still my mom…unfortunately. Want to sit?” Carson gestures to a small outdoor couch covered in cushions.
I smile a little and nod as relief floods through me. “Sure.”
When we sit, that same freaky feeling zings through me, even more pronounced as I sink into the cushions.
God, they’re heavenly. It's the most magical, amazing, maybe even sensual sensation I’ve ever felt on my skin. I smile widely as I snuggle back into the cushions with a low moan.
Carson frowns. “You okay?”
“What? Yeah,” I smile. “Sorry, I guess I just really needed to sit.”
He nods and takes a sip of what looks like whiskey in his glass. “I apologize for before,” he grunts. “My mom is just a sore subject.”
“And your dad?”
It tumbles out before I can stop it. I’m too busy noticing how amazing the cushions feel under my thighs and palms to have any control over my mouth.
I wince.
“Sorry, that’s none of my—”
“So you were eavesdropping on Wick and me at the bar.”
I nod nervously. “A little, maybe. Sorry, I really wasn’t trying to.” I frown. “So, wow, your dad might not be your dad?”
Shut. The. Hell. Up. Self.
Carson smirks. “Holy shit, you must be keeping him on his toes.”
My brow knits. “Your dad?”
“Vaughn,” he growls. “And…yeah… My dad probably isn’t my dad.”
Holy crap.
My pulse quickens, feeling like pure, hot joy as it flows through my veins.
Am I seriously about to solve the mystery for Diego? Is Carson possibly his bastard heir? My palms slide from the cushions up over my bare thighs, and I bite back a gasp at the orgasmic sensation that ripples through my body.
I take another big sip of my champagne. The little mineral thing at the bottom has mostly dissolved by now, so the glass isn’t bubbling like it was before. But it still tastes delicious. And the bubbles feel so good on my tongue.
“Anyway.” Carson makes like he’s about to stand. “My regards to Vaughn.”
“Wait!”
My hand shoots out to grab his sleeve. I can’t let him leave yet. I need to dig a little deeper and see if this crazy theory has legs. Does he know the Torvallés family? Does his mother?
But when I dart my hand out, it’s his whole, muscled forearm that I grab, not just fabric. Carson arches a brow, glancing to where I’m grabbing his arm. His eyes lift to mine, a spark flickering in them.
“And why should I wait?”
I squirm against the cushions, feeling warm and tingly and breathless.
I know somewhere in the back of my mind that I should let go of his arm because I’m being super weird.
But I just can’t. The fabric of his jacket sleeve feels too good.
The muscles of his forearm under it ripple again, making my arm tingle.
Warmth pools in my core as I grip his arm a little tighter.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Be…because…” I mumble. My dress suddenly feels both too heavy and like pure magic on my body. Every beat of my pulse has the material teasing against my skin. Every time I squirm on the cushions it ignites a fire across my body.
“Because you make me curious,” I blurt.
God, is that me trying to be seductive? Is this how I try to glean information?
“Do I.”
Carson's tone is both sensual and venomous as he leans closer. His eyes glint wickedly, slicing into me.
“Yeah…” I mumble, feeling melty and sooo good.
I have zero desire to keep on touching him, but for the life of me I'm unable to let go of his arm. My grip tightens, like I can’t get enough of the rippling forearm beneath the jacket sleeve.
My fingertips glide over the fabric, greedy for the electric sensations it sends through my veins fireworks.
It’s not even a him thing. It’s just that his jacket feels so freaking good to touch.
Carson eyes me coolly, the light breeze blowing his blond hair back from his gorgeous face.
“Wanna know a secret?” I giggle.
“Absolutely,” he growls. He’s typing something on his phone. But before the annoyance of that can screw with the floaty, happy sensation buzzing through me, he sets it back down.
“Vaughn and Val have the same butt.”
I explode in giggles, my face hot as I cover my mouth with one hand.
“Fascinating,” Carson smirks, blandly amused.
“They're cute butts, too,” I snort, giggling as I drop my forehead to his shoulder. “Oh. You’ve got really strong arms, by the way.”
That’s when I feel a change in the wind. A chill to the air. A dark force, pulsing against my back, like Darth freaking Vader just made his entrance.
I slowly lift my forehead from Carson’s shoulder and unwrap my arms from around his bicep.
When did I start hugging his arm?
Slowly, haltingly, I turn my head.
Icy blue cuts viciously into me. My chest tightens as my pulse spikes. The throbbing, electric sensations rippling over my skin turn cold.
Vaughn does not look happy.
At all.
“W-w-what are you doing here?” I blurt, the color draining from my face.
“I texted him to come collect you,” Carson sighs in a bored tone as he shakes me off and then leans in close. “Were you trying to make him jealous with your clumsy attempts to flirt with me?”
My stomach knots, my mind still foggy. “What?! No, I—”
“Tsk tsk, princess.” Carson smiles maliciously at me and then lifts his eyes to the god of wrath himself standing a few feet away, whose gaze is burning holes into my soul. “I think you may have gotten yourself into a world of hurt.”
I’m vaguely aware of pouting like a child when Carson moves away from me, because the heat of his body felt so good against my arm.
And even after he walks over to Vaughn, claps a hand on his shoulder, and leans in to murmur a few words to him, my whole body is still buzzing, warm, and tingling everywhere.
I shift on the couch and literally have to bite my lip to stop from moaning.
God, my clothes feel so fucking good. The dress teases and brushes sensually over every inch of my skin.
I shift again and gasp quietly as the material glides over my electrified nipples, sending a zap of hot need between my thighs.
I jolt when Vaughn squats down in front of me, filling my field of vision. A whimper bubbles from my throat when he grabs my jaw tightly, glaring into my face. My eyes dart past him, and I shiver when I realize Carson has gone.
We’re alone.
Gabby's dress feels so freaking good against my skin. The couch is melting around me. His hand—my God—feels like pure sin as he cups my face.
“I’m only going to ask this once,” he growls. “What—and I can’t stress this enough—the fuck did you think you were doing, coming to this party—”
“Just because you didn’t invite me, it doesn’t mean I’m not invited.”
Wait, that makes sense, right?
“That is exactly what it means,” he growls. “You’re my Acolyte, and I didn’t invite you.”
“Well, that was a jerk thing to do,” I say snippily. “And like you just said, I’m your Acolyte. I’m still in all of this, and I haven’t said my safe—”
“I should punish you for walking into this place wearing that dress,” he hisses. “Not to mention your sad attempt to make me jealous by flirting with my friend.”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Oh my God, get over yourself. A, I can wear whatever I want. B, I wasn’t flirting with Carson, Jesus. C, control issues much?”
Part of me is aware how insane it is to be talking to him like this. But that part seems to be quite comfortable sitting in the passenger seat and letting the other part drive.
Vaughn’s jaw clenches. “Are you done?”
“Nope!” I smile at him, rolling my hips and trying not to moan at the amazing sensations rippling over my skin as my bare thighs rub against the cushions.
I eye him accusatively and stab a finger at him. “You wanna give me shit for coming to a party? How about you, sneaking into my room at night to undress me and touch me and come on me while I sleep?” My finger jabs again. “Pervert.”
Vaughn’s eyes burn into me. “Are you drunk?”
I sigh dramatically. “No. I only had one.” I lift the almost empty champagne flute, the remnants of the little mineral thingy sitting inert at the bottom of it.
“I mean, I do get drunk easily,” I giggle, shrugging and then gasping when the movement pulls the top of my dress across my nipples. “But I’m not drunk—”
“You’re high.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Dad,” I snicker. “I’m not. I never take drugs—”
“It’s not an accusation,” he growls, taking the champagne flute from my hand and glaring at it. “It’s a fact. You drank this?”
I squirm again, grinding my ass on the couch and gasping as the pleasure sparks over every inch of my skin. “Mmm-hmm,” I moan. “Just onnnne, though—”
“You’re on strong Ecstasy.”
“Wait…what?” I blurt.
I gasp as he quickly stands, grabs my hands, and hauls me to my feet. “You’re high as a fucking kite, and you’re coming with me,” he growls.
I groan, my face scrunching up as I pull my wrists from his grasp. “Wait wait wait,” I mumble. “I don’t take drugs…”
“Well, you just did,” he mutters. “And now you’re coming with me.”
I snort out a silly laugh as I find myself sinking against his chest. My cheek feels electric as I rub it against his suit jacket, and my fingertips tingle as I slide my hands up and down his rock-hard abdomen.
“I’m nooooot,” I giggle. “I’m staying riiiight heeeeree—HEY!”
My entire body jolts as Vaughn grabs me by the waist, lifts me effortlessly, and drapes me face-down over his shoulder.
“Time to go, princess.”