13 #2
Visions of the way Cal was when we were kids—kind, quiet, observant—do the impossible and overrun the very palpable fear of this ballroom.
They take me to the playground outside school, where I cornered Cal at the top of a slide for a kiss.
He’d been startled—I was three years younger than him and barely on his radar—but from that moment forward, he’d been careful with me.
He spoke softly. He smiled back. He listened when I jabbered, even if he had nothing to add at all.
All the questions I have about why he’d be here , at this undefinable, most horrible place, and his promised forthcoming explanation fade to the background, and the instinct to trust him to protect me takes over.
I don’t understand it—probably because it makes no sense, given I haven’t known anything about him since we were thirteen and ten respectively—but just like I told him last night, I do trust him.
Because it’s Calloway Slater .
Because…you belong to him just as much as you’ve always felt he belonged to you.
“Okay,” I ask almost inaudibly, hoping he’ll be able to hear me too and trying not to move my lips like I’m some kind of ventriloquist. “So…who should I talk to?”
“The women,” he says quickly, turning to face a different direction.
To the average onlooker, we don’t look like we’re engaged with each other at all, and I get the sense that’s the way he wants it.
“If a vampire calls you over, go, but do your best to keep your answers surface-level. And do not, whatever you do, mention knowing me.”
“I don’t like this.” It’s a simple statement from an overwhelmed woman with no options but to comply. I want to complain more. To beg for an explanation or talk him into running out of this room and never looking back. But I can’t.
Not here. Not now.
Maybe not ever.
“I don’t like it either,” he replies, and for the first time since he started our conversation, I’m really not sure if the words are meant for me or for himself.
Spinning slowly, I look for a woman to be a lifeline and find Abigail first. Her expression is hopeful as she waits for a man to pay her interest, and her bright fuchsia gown does its job by standing out.
I don’t want to get noticed, but maybe if I’m hiding behind her, she’ll be a buffer of sorts.
It’s hard because she’s so focused on the men, but eventually, I catch her eye. I move toward her, only stopping when I’ve put her body between me and the men. “Hey, thanks again for the extra schedule.”
“No problem,” Abigail says, putting her back to me and smiling at a huge man with an imposing scar over his eyebrow.
“I enjoyed chatting with you at lunch and the—”
When he smiles back at her, she lets out a little squeal and interrupts me bluntly. “Sorry. I’m being summoned.”
I sigh, not bothering to say anything to her retreating form as it picks up to a jog.
The crowd of women is dwindling now, and the safety-in-numbers game is becoming more and more impossible. I try to hide behind a group of women I haven’t met before, but within thirty seconds, they’re all long gone.
An older man watches me intently before jerking his chin at the man standing next to him. With dark brown hair and matching eyes, he cuts a shiver straight through me at the very first meeting of our eyes.
My chest yanks, and immediately, without the directive of my own brain, I’m moving toward him. It’s fucking terrifying, and my eyes skitter through the room in a panicked sweep, trying to find Cal.
“It’s okay,” I hear his voice say on a whisper. “I’m watching. Just remember…keep it surface-level. Don’t mention me.”
I dip my chin in acquiescence and extend a hand to the waiting one in front of me. However, the man standing beside him—the one who was watching me and whose green eyes are borderline neon—smacks it away before we make contact.
“No touching,” he chastises him. “Remember, Nathanial?”
I startle, but as Nathanial smiles at me, I force my stomach to settle.
“Sorry, Lucian. You know I lose my wits around a beautiful woman sometimes.”
I clear my throat around the knot that’s formed there.
“I’m Lucian Wrath, dear,” the older man with the green eyes introduces himself. “And this is my brother Nathanial. What can we call you?”
“R-romy,” I stutter, my nerves getting the best of me. Immediately, Nathanial’s eyes flutter down to my throat and linger there, but Lucian’s focus never leaves my face.
“And what’s your last name?”
“Spencer,” I say, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in my throat. “Romy Spencer.”
“Ah, Spencer,” Lucian says warmly. “That’s why you look familiar. I knew your great-aunt Lucille.”
My stomach tenses at the casual remark. To him, it’s supposed to be comforting, I suppose. But all it does is remind me of a relationship I never had. My father’s aunt was the last generation of Spencers to be selected before me, and because of that, she wasn’t around to get to know me.
I try to soften the edges of the sting, but the words still come out brittle. “That’s nice. I never got the chance.”
“I sense a little bit of an attitude in this one, Lucian,” Nathanial teases. “Would probably be quite fun to work out of her.”
As if the comment isn’t off-putting enough, the fact that he’s talking about me instead of to me serves as a clincher. Nathanial is not the ideal vampire to end up with, that’s for damn sure.
Not that there is an ideal option, but this is the kind of breakdown I’m being forced into.
If Hillary or Abigail mentions him in passing, I don’t think I’ll be able to be chill.
“Please, dear, don’t mind my brother,” Lucian says, his voice filled with apology and frustration. “He’s apparently misplaced his manners tonight. Why don’t you ask us something about ourselves if you’d like? No question is off-limits. Give yourself a bit of ground back, perhaps?”
“Okay,” I say, my whole body taking on a tremble. The invitation to ask any question in the universe is too good to pass up, even if it scares the living shit right out of me.
Oh, well. Here goes nothing…
“I guess…the thing I’d really like to know. The question that nags at me the very most is this. What, exactly, is so appealing about buying a woman rather than wooing one yourself? Is it an ineptitude issue? A tiny dick thing? Or are you really just that self-important?”