Chapter 24
GALINA
Thudding music, flashing lights, and grinding bodies all undulate around me as the party swallows us whole.
It’s my first time inside The Spire, the towering, castle-like old garrison and home to The Reckless that sits on a craggy rock a little way out from the main cliffs. I’ve been to a few wild parties on campus before, but this is next level.
The huge, cavernous room where we're standing feels like a banquet hall for a Viking lord or demon king of the underworld. Imposing stone walls reach up into the darkness, where flashing lights and lasers flicker and slash across the timber beams of the vaulted ceiling above.
A massive DJ booth is set up to one side, students writhing in a sweaty mass in front of it. On another wall of the huge space, a gigantic LCD screen makes it look like a dragon is clawing its way in.
“What the fuck?”
I can barely hear Arianna over the roar of the party, but I follow her gaze and blink in shock at the wrought-iron cages, like something out of a medieval torture chamber, hanging down from the vaulted ceiling.
Beautiful, nearly-naked guys and girls in S&M gear dance and undulate inside them as the pure chaos of the party envelops us.
A tap on my arm pulls my attention back to Ari, who looks exactly how you’d expect her to look at a deafeningly loud, CastleCore, S&M themed college party.
“Can we go now?”
I roll my eyes as a twisted smile curls my lips.
“We JUST got here!”
She sighs heavily.
“Plus…” I shrug, waggling my brows at her. “You do look hot, for the record.”
“Oh, good,” she says dryly.
Sarcasm and party-pooper attitude aside, Ari does look amazing.
Shockingly, not only did she agree to come out tonight, however begrudgingly, but she did so in a bright red, strapless, A-line minidress with a hemline that I would guess is several inches higher than anything she’s ever worn in her life.
Ari always looks cute, even in baggie hoodies and shapeless jeans. But she looks freaking stunning tonight.
Not gonna lie, the rest of us look pretty good, too.
I still haven’t managed to get Arianna to tell us what’s going on with Yelena. But it’s pretty obvious it’s about a guy, based on nothing else but the fact that she came out tonight dressed for fucking revenge.
She’s in a black, backless Dior cocktail dress with a front that plunges halfway to her belly button and a hemline that’s one light breeze away from showing the world her ass.
Like, if that dress isn’t about a man, I don’t know what is.
Lucia’s in skinny black jeans, heels, and a super-hot halter top. Wren’s rocking a short skirt, heeled knee-high boots, and a very boobalicious top. And I’m in a slinky green party dress almost as short as Yelena’s which I grabbed in a rage out of my closet.
Yeah, Yelena’s not the only one wearing spite tonight.
My brow furrows.
Well, at least my dress went on out of spite.
I was furious when I got ready to go out in the bathroom instead of in my room, in case he was still watching me. I was livid when I covered the rage with smiles and walked across campus to the party with my friends.
But now that I’m here, dressed in green as a middle finger to The Ghost Prince after his “I vote you stick with the green” comment, I don’t know what I feel.
Angry, of course. Angrier probably than even the first time I realized he was watching me via the hidden camera in my desk lamp. On the way over here to the party, I thought of all the times I'd mentioned, to him, how he “used to” spy on me and how lucky he was that he wasn’t doing it anymore.
Every time I said that he was probably laughing his ass off at me. Because he never stopped.
And therein lies my problem. Because while I am angry…furious, even…that he’s been watching me for weeks without my consent, there’s something else.
Something horrible that I shouldn’t be feeling.
And that something is excitement.
A thrill.
A spark of something illicit that catches and spreads through me like wildfire. I think of all the times I got undressed. All the times I was just walking around naked, because I thought I was alone in my room.
…All the times I touched myself, thinking of him.
While he watched me.
God fucking dammit, I hate how hot that is.
I mean, wrong, and super fucked-up. But no matter how hard I try to focus on the negative, I keep wandering back to that throbbing slither inside me that comes alive at the thought of him watching me at my most vulnerable.
Ugh.
I might need professional help.
“Absinthe!”
I startle, yanking myself out of my head and turning toward a girl holding a tray full of bright green shots. She’s dressed in a skimpy black latex cocktail dress and knee-high boots, along with a black cowl, like a medieval executioner’s hood.
Shit, that would make a great Velvet Villainess costume…
My eyes drop to the neon green shots on her tray. Yes, in lieu of professional help tonight, alcohol will do just fine.
Arianna shakes her head and declines the absinthe. Fair. She did already put on a hot dress and come out tonight, and besides, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen her drink.
I, meanwhile, have zero issues plucking a shot glass from the tray. The rest of the girls follow suit, cheersing before we all knock back the drinks.
Good LORD.
“Well, that looked perfectly vile,” Ari grimaces as I make a sickly face.
“Licorice!” I manage to wheeze over the alcohol burn.
“That is not good,” Lucia gags, then plucks a second shot from the tray.
I pretend not to see Ari’s disapproving look as I grab another one as well and raise my glass alongside Lucia's.
“To us!”
“And FUCK Achilles!” I hear Wren yell-whisper into Yelena’s ear. “In the ass, with a rusty claw hammer!”
Aaand a big piece of the “Yelena being off her game” puzzle falls into place.
You little sneak…
Part of me wants to instantly grill my friend on whatever is going on between her and Achilles Drakos. But it’s obvious from the sour look on Yelena’s face that now probably isn’t the time.
“You hate licorice,” Ari mutters as I contemplate the second shot in my hand.
“Yep, sure do. Bottoms up.”
I tap my shot glass to Lucia’s before we both knock back our second helpings of the revolting anise-flavored booze.
But wow, do I feel my mood improving as the overproof alcohol bleeds into my system. I want to say it’s because it’s helping me resolve the whole “am I angry or am I turned on” issue inside my head. But it’s probably just dulling that conversation for now.
I mean, I’ll take it.
Still, my mind slowly slinks back into that dark, deviant little place where I imagine him watching me. Where I wonder what he does while he watches me…
“—totally staring at you.”
“He is not.”
I frown as I swivel my attention to a grinning Lucia and a red-faced Arianna.
“Wait, who’s staring at you?” I ask Arianna, a slow smile creeping over my face.
“No one,” she sighs. “Lucia’s been reading too many of your smutty books and is now inventing—”
“Ahem,” our friend snorts. She gestures with her chin past Arianna.
I follow her gaze to the far end of the room, to a huge, elevated stone dais. A massive table draped in black and festooned with flickering candles runs the length of it, looking like the perfect spot for the mad king of this haunted castle to sit and preside over a feast…or an execution.
Then I realize that’s exactly who Lucia is looking at.
The mad king of The Spire himself.
Adrik Volkov.
Currently, the dark-haired, brooding leader of The Reckless is sprawled on what can only be described as a throne, set in the middle of the banquet table.
Yeah, the guy might have the face of a model, the build of a professional athlete, and be covered in tattoos…
so, basically every book boyfriend I’ve ever fantasized about…
but there’s also something downright terrifying about him.
He just radiates this sinister energy that sucks the life out of any room, like he’s the literal Prince of Darkness.
Honestly, he freaks me out.
Currently, he’s surveying the raucous party like an emperor waiting to be entertained.
Beside him, another tattooed, broody-looking walking nightmare, Kirill Tsarenko, sits shirtless as he scowls out over the sea of dancing students.
Kirill is another Bratva heir, and Adrik’s number two in The Reckless.
He’s also pretty much always shirtless, unless school dress code stipulates otherwise.
I would say that I also don’t know much about him, but honestly, nobody outside of The Reckless knows much about anyone in that club. Adrik likes keeping things pretty insular at The Spire.
“Fine, I'll bite. Who do you think is watching me?” Arianna sighs in a bored tone, glancing over to the dais. “Kirill the man-whore? I’m pretty sure he’d fuck a corpse.”
“Not Kirill,” Lucia snickers. “Adrik.”
Ari gulps, but then rolls her eyes.
“Oh, the literal Prince of Darkness. Much better. Thank you, Lucia. I feel so flattered.”
I giggle, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a big hug. “What would be so bad about Adrik checking you out? Have you seen what you’re wearing?”
“Tragically, yes,” she sighs. “And what would be so bad about him checking me out is that I’m certain it would mean he was sizing me for a coffin.”
I laugh loudly. Then I catch Lucia’s frown.
“What?”
She makes a face. “Did you guys hear about his mom?”
“Have I heard that Adrik Volkov’s mom is one of the most famous supermodels in the world?” I roll my eyes. “Yeah, Luce, once or twice.”
Adrik’s father, Yuri, is the head of the massively powerful Volkov Bratva. But his mother is the very famous fashion model River Finn. I mean, everyone’s parents here have at least some degree of infamy. But that’s next-level celebrity status.
Lucia frowns and shakes her head. “She was in a car crash this past summer. I think they’re trying to keep it out of the tabloids, but she’s still in a coma.”
Jesus.