Chapter 23
YELENA
“Why the fuck would anyone live here?” Galina mutters.
Wren and I ended up convincing the whole squad—even Arianna—to come to the Reckless party tonight. But it wasn’t until we were almost here—just missing a thunderstorm about to roll in from the ocean—that we realized that none of us had actually been inside The Spire before.
Now, standing in the front hall of the massive, fortress-like building, with the low lights, stone walls, and heart-stoppingly loud rap music reverberating through the place, it’s hitting all at once, like a slap in the face.
I turn to Galina, who’s staring in horror mixed with disgust at the enormous black iron chandelier hanging in the entryway, covered in dusty cobwebs.
Galina is a neat freak. The chaos of this place must be giving her an aneurysm.
“I mean who the hell wants to walk in and see that?” she hisses.
Wren snorts. “Hi, yes, I will see your dusty chandelier and raise you one fucking giant prehistoric snake skeleton.”
Ari laughs. “Hey now! Leave Long John Slither out of this!”
Wren sticks her tongue out at Arianna and then turns to grin at me. “Okay, you look hot.”
“Facts,” Lucia adds.
I’m in a miniscule black dress that feels way too short at both ends. The hem hovers barely two inches from showing the world what color panties I’m wearing, the back is non-existent, and the front plunges past my tits halfway to my navel.
It’s Dior, because why not. It’s slinky, again, because why not. And I have to admit, I really do look good in it.
I mean, slutty and easy. But also good.
I’m not the only one. It wasn’t discussed, but all of us decided to come out swinging for the fucking fences tonight.
Wren’s in this super cute skirt, knee-high boots with heels, and a strappy bodice top that puts her boobs seriously out there.
Galina’s in a silky green sleeveless thing about as short as mine, and Lucia looks like a true femme fatale in skinny black jeans, heels, and a black halter top.
But the real surprise of the evening is Arianna. With I swear no pressure from any of us, she emerged from her room at The Atheneum in, I kid you not, a strapless A-line minidress with a cinched waist and a hemline half up her thigh.
It's bright. Freaking. Red.
I’d tell her how amazing she looks right now, except I think I said it about forty times on the walk over. And I don't want her to lose her nerve, or shake off any temporary insanity, or whatever this is.
The party is raging as we venture further into The Spire. I’ve heard the rumors about this place, and pictured all the crazy, off-the-charts hedonism that would happen at a Reckless party.
But nothing could prepare us for this.
Holy.
Shit.
Parties thrown by the four clubs at Knightsblood don’t ever feel like what I imagine typical college parties are like. They’re just…more. I mean, Para Bellum is basically a royal palace, and the ones last year at Morvaine Manor that I attended were out there, too.
But I’ve never seen anything close to what we walk into here.
The huge space looks like a medieval banquet hall, with massive stone walls and a soaring vaulted ceiling with huge timber beams spanning the length of it.
There’s a massive, elevated DJ setup filling one side of the room, complete with flashing lights, lasers, and a huge, curved LCD screen at the back that makes it look like an ultra-realistic dragon is literally clawing through the stone walls of The Spire to get inside.
My jaw drops when I see the wrought iron cages that look straight out of a torture chamber hanging down from the ceiling. Each has a beautiful girl or a hot guy dressed in bondage or S&M gear dancing provocatively inside, their athletic bodies undulating to the grinding thud of the music.
My awe-struck, somewhat terrified gaze drifts next to the far end of the room, where a huge, elevated stone dais sits. A huge table runs the length of it, draped in black with flickering, dripping candles set all over, like where an emperor would preside over an imperial banquet.
In fact, this table actually has an emperor—of sorts—sitting in a massive, honest-to-God throne right in the middle of the banquet table, lording over the party like a prince of darkness.
I don’t really know a thing about Adrik Volkov except that he walks around campus like a king and looks like the kingdom he’d be presiding over is hell itself. He’s tall, built like a professional athlete, and always has a dark, sinister look etched across his model-level brooding face.
Currently, he’s sprawled in his throne dressed all in black with his shirt mostly unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, displaying a massive swath of terrifying tattoos of skulls, ravens, daggers, and snakes.
Next to him, another lord of darkness lounges in a similar throne: Kirill Tsarenko, who is, no surprise, shirtless, his muscled body and vast black tattoo ink on full display as he brings a bottle of vodka to his lips.
I feel an elbow nudging me, and I pull my attention from Adrik and Kirill to see Wren grinning at me like a maniac.
“Okay, this is exactly what we needed!” she screams at me over the music. “Come on!!”
Well, who am I to argue?
The five of us, even Ari, dive right into the madness of the surging horde of dancers.
A girl wearing a black cowl that I’m sure doesn’t accidentally look like a medieval executioner’s hood, dressed in a black latex cocktail dress and shiny black over the knee boots, struts by holding a tray full of neon-green shots.
“Absinthe!” she yells when we all give her the “what the hell is that” look.
Wren shrugs as she turns to us. “Bottoms up, I guess?”
Arianna passes on the absinthe. I almost do too, but when I see Galina snag a glass from the tray, I decide I’m done wearing a seatbelt tonight.
Wren’s right: I do need this.
“To us!!” Galina cheers, raising her shot glass.
“And FUCK Achilles,” Wren mutters in my ear so only I can hear. “In the ass, with a rusty claw hammer.”
We raise our shots and gulp them down.
Shit.
That’s…problematically delicious.
So delicious, in fact, that five minutes later, as we’re all rocking out to the DJ’s beats and another hooded cocktail waitress comes by with a second tray of absinthe, I decide yes, I will have another, thank you.
By the third tray coming my way, I’m having the time of my life.
By the fourth, I’m officially drunk and feeling amazing.
The music starts to hit differently. I can feel every breath of hot air entering my lungs as I raise my arms to the ceiling and throw my head back.
The flashing lights and lasers feel like magic, and that dragon tearing through the wall by the DJ booth seems so fucking real that I shiver and scream whenever I see it.
The sweat glistening on my skin feels incredible. The way my dress shifts over my body, especially my nipples…
Jesus.
I turn, trying to shake off the downright erotic sensation flickering like tongues over my body. Then I check out how my friends are doing.
Wren has her head tossed back too, her eyes half shut as she twirls, her hands high in the air. Lucia is dancing between two guys I think I recognize from Ouroboros, a glazed, dreamy look on her face.
For a second, I feel a twinge of worry when I see the two big, heavily muscled guys dancing so close on either side of her. But then one of them catches my concerned look and grins. He shakes his head and leans close to me.
“Don’t have to worry about us, girl,” he says with a wink. He leans around Lucia to kiss the other guy deeply.
When they pull apart, the second guy turns to me.
“Wrong team,” he laughs, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “We’ll keep an eye on her for you, okay?”
Well, then. Concerns: managed.
The music swirls around me, making my body ripple and my breath catch. The dress shifts over my skin, sending electric pulses skittering through my body. On the other side of me, Galina looks as dreamy as I feel, her eyes closed as she rakes her fingers through her long red hair.
Arianna catches my eye and dances closer to me.
“Hey!” she yells over the music.
“Heeeeey,” I hear myself say as I sidle up to her and wrap my arms around her neck. “Dance with me!”
She looks at me curiously but allows me to start moving us to the pounding beats. My hip brushes hers, and another electric shiver thrills over my skin.
“You look soooo good tonight!” I yell.
She laughs. “You’ve mentioned that.”
“Well, you do!” I give her a knowing look as we sway to the music. “Anyone in particular you’re trying to impress?”
Ari rolls her eyes. “Uh, no.”
“Oops! Mission failed!” I laugh as I glance past her, nodding to the raised dais.
…Where Adrik is staring right at us.
“Caaaause I think you caught someone’s attention!” I giggle.
Arianna turns as red as her dress and turns as if to leave, but I grab her hand and yank her back against me.
“Nooo!” I blurt. “Keep dancing with me!! You feel so gooood!”
Wait, what?
Ari seems to wonder too, because although she moves back to dance next to me, her brows crease as she peers into my eyes.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“God, you have the softest hair,” I mumble, running my fingers through it.
Arianna’s hand wraps around my wrist.
“Lena.”
I smile widely at her. “Hmm?”
“What the hell is up with you?”
“Oh my God, it’s a paaaarttyy!” I giggle. “I’m having fuuun!!”
She frowns and glances past me to the rest of our friends dancing and swaying, looks of pure euphoria on their faces.
“What’s up with all of you?”
“Come ooonnn!” I groan, taking her hands. “Just have fun!” I giggle as I lean close to her again.
Jesus, she smells so good. And her hair…
“King Reckless has his eeeeeyee on you…” I tease, turning to glance at the dais again.
But now Adrik is standing, and the look on his face is lethal. I shiver, but then I realize he’s not looking at us anymore but past us. I turn, frowning when I see Jude standing in the doorway to the massive space, grinning sadistically with his arms folded over his chest.