Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
B eaufort
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 continued defiance has wound me up. We need to keep the facade 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.
“Perhaps you’re thirsty for something else. You always used to be.” She rests her hand on my arm. “You couldn’t get enough.”
“Funny,” I say coldly, “I don’t quite remember it that way.”
“You don’t remember sneaking into my room, begging to spend the night?”
I snort. “You have a creative imagination, Henny.”
She ignores me. Maybe there was a time when I found her attractive, irresistible even – her magic is mesmerizing and powerful. But that time was short-lived. Fleeting even. I’ve felt nothing but disdain and disinterest for her for months and months now.
“I bet you miss it,” she purrs.
I shake my head.
“Especially when you’re not getting any from that little thrall of yours.”
Despite my best efforts to remain calm, to not rise to the little witch’s bait, my shoulders tense.
“Who says we’re not getting any? I’m very satisfied with our thrall.”
“Well,” she says, stroking her hand against my cheek, “it’s written all over your face, Beaufort.” She laughs again. “I know that look well – I kept you waiting, remember?” A growl simmers in my throat. “And also, the girl’s said it many times. She’s not your thrall – despite your and Dray’s best efforts.”
“Watch how you talk to me, Henny.”
“Oh,” she says, innocently, “I’m only concerned for your welfare, Beaufort. I know it can’t be easy for a man like you, in fact it must be crushing.”
“It is easy. I’m more satisfied than I ever have been,” I lie. I want our thrall so fucking desperately. It’s driving me insane. I can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop imagining all the things I want to do to her. I want to end the games and make her ours.
“But the girl is just that. A girl,” she hisses. “She’d be such a lousy fuck. You’re going to be so disappointed when you finally have her. I don’t understand why you’re wasting your time.”
“I’m not wasting my time.”
“We could go back to my rooms right now, if you wanted, Beaufort,” she says, sliding her hands down my front, her touch making my skin crawl. “Or we could find a quiet place – you always did like to have a bit of fun like that.”
“Not with you, Henny. Not any longer.”
Her eyes flash. “Don’t expect me to be so obliging when you come crawling back to me, Beaufort, begging for me to take you back. I know you, I know your patience is severely limited. And when you finally lose your patience with that girl, I may no longer be an option.”
She tosses her braid over her shoulder and storms back to her sister.
She’s right, my patience is limited.
In fact, it has finally snapped.