Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
Killian
S he doesn’t respond. Of course she doesn’t. Iris is a brat and one that’s metaphorically toying with my balls.
I move through the crowd, dressed the part of a nobleman, and come up to Iris and her sister.
“Take my hand, brat, and smile. Pretend you’re auditioning a mate,” I say, holding mine out. Her sister, Marigold, and Iris’s redheaded friend just stare at me in shock. They both know who I am, but not my real last name. Not many do.
For a good reason.
Icy takes my hand, and a frisson of heated desire passes through my blood, elevating my heart.
I shouldn’t be dancing with her. I should be dancing with others as I work the room, seeing if there are those we can get on board down the line for Nightshade’s cause.
Xavier came back the other day after a delivery to this place and quietly asked me if maybe using Iris wasn’t the best idea.
It’s still the best we have outside violence and civil upheaval.
And then he reminded me who the fuck I am.
I know what I am. But I do have a history that carries enough weight to get in these doors on a legitimate level.
Using the fullness of my name, the last of inherited respect, won’t get me far, and while I wanted to save that in case Emmie needed it, Xav pointed out that we want the status quo changed. Not have Emmie embroiled deep in it all.
Slowly, I stroke fingers against Icy’s waist, keeping my hand in a decent spot, the movement minuscule.
By now, the fact I’m Killian Blackwater’s worked its way through every person in here, whether they’ve ever heard of me or not.
Whether they’ve met me at Black Briar or not.
I’m an instant thing of intrigue. I could have put Xav out here, but his past is not one the people here resonate with. Mine? I don’t advertise it, but it’s there for any who care to do the real digging.
I don’t touch the Blackwater so-called fortune, which is about average for Sabine’s well-heeled, but I don’t disown it.
The money’s not mine. It’s not Xavier’s.
It belongs to Emmie’s future.
Not even her fucking mother can touch it.
“Blackwater?” Iris finally asks. The music’s slow, so she holds herself just shy of the correct distance, and I have to stop myself pulling her closer. “Is it real or constructed? Should I know it?”
“Real, but it’s a name with nothing anymore behind it, just the whiff of paid-for respect. Don’t worry. I’m still a degenerate.”
Her eyes narrow as she smiles, like we’re having the most pointless and boring conversation ever. “So you’re not here for me. What is it? You don’t trust me to get close to the Monarch?”
“You’ve been there, done that.” I listened to Xav. I still think she’s our best bet, but we have a bond now. Besides, he had some…salient points. So I’ll try. Besides, me being here should help Nightshade’s cause.
It can’t hurt it.
“I have connections,” she says.
I gaze into her eyes and return that polite, society smile. “Do you?”
“Or is it another reason? Are you here to announce your claim? On me? Or are you here to pick up a rich woman who’ll never satisfy you?”
I laugh softly. “A totally brat comment.”
“If you want me to submit, you’ll have to try harder.”
Somehow, I contain myself and keep dancing with her. She’s not quite aware of what she’s just said to me and that’s somehow more of a turn on.
Doesn’t stop me playing with her still. Just a little. “Fuck, Iris. You tempt.”
She sniffs. But there’s a commotion, one that ripples like a wave through everyone…and the Monarch sweeps in, her entourage clearing the way for her.
“The witch of Sabine herself,” I mutter.
“You came for her.” The music ends, and Iris pulls from my embrace. I don’t miss the hint of disappointment in her tone.
“Something like that.” I’ve got other dances, ideas to plant, waters to test.
And this dance was foolhardy in both the best and the worst ways.
“I hope you bought her rum to grease the wheel,” she says, turning. “The rarer the better.”
“Iris.” Her brother beckons her. There’s another Alpha he’s pulled aside for her to dance with, and as she leaves, my stomach goes tight.
I’m about to continue my stroll around the room when another Omega comes up to me. She’s in a pitch-black, form-fitting gown with crystal sewn throughout to give the illusion of a star-filled night sky. Stunning. She’s clearly trying hard to stand out.
“Hello there,” she says to me with a wide smile. “My name’s Alicia.”