Chapter 19 #2
As long as he doesn’t come dogging me again, I’ll be happy.
Shaking off the tension of the confrontation, I weave through the bobbing bodies to the corner of the dance floor my friends claimed. Mia shoots me a questioning look, and I just shake my head.
Forget boy toys and would-be matches. I have a mission to carry out.
I bob and shimmy alongside the others, hoping no one expects me to be an expert dancer. Cadance breaks away from our cluster first, sidling over to one of our 15th-year classmates and teasing her gloved fingers down his arm. Mia decides to imitate her boldness and joins her apparent crush.
I decide I can abandon Stella and Madison now without anyone calling foul. Spotting Grady’s dark hair over the heads of the nearer dancers, I sway toward him.
He’s part of a shifting circle of eight or so figures, guys and girls, some easing away while others drift closer.
I slip into a spot near him without making eye contact.
One of his classmates—who joined in their indulgence at The Eclipse several hours ago—shoots a grin my way, but I don’t let my gaze linger on him either.
I’m Elodie Devine. I don’t beg for anyone’s attention.
Should I move more directly on Grady or try to lure him into courting me? Will that get me the information I need, or am I better off watching to see who else he interacts with and how?
As I debate the possibilities, a firm hand latches around my waist and tugs me away from Grady’s group.
“There you are, a stóirín. Let’s make this a night to remember, yeah?”
Salvatore spins both of us around with unrestrained laughter. A whiff of alcohol reaches my nose.
I detach myself from his grip, restraining a grimace. Is he actually drunk tonight?
The Salvatore I’ve known confessed to me that he never really partook. He brought bottles full of water so he could chug freely, splashed on a bit of liquor like it was aftershave to sell the story, and palmed any pills he feigned popping.
He wanted everyone around him to think he was even more uninhibited than usual, that he was so confident in his power he didn’t mind getting blitzed around them—didn’t care about the consequences of what anyone else might do to him or he to them.
But he’d never really let himself get that vulnerable in company he didn’t trust.
And as far as I know, he never trusted anyone but me. The act was as much to keep his family off his back as the rest of us.
Is this Salvatore the same way? He did bring his own drink.
The flash of his eyes when he snags my elbow looks cunning enough to convince me, though he puts on a crooked smirk and makes a show of swaying on his feet afterward.
His voice stays jovial. “Aww, the princess doesn’t want to play? Come on. You know none of these stuffy pricks can give you a ride like I can.”
I try to take another step back, but he holds on tight. “I’m not interested in riding anyone, thanks.”
Salvatore steps closer and slides his other hand down my side from ribs to hip. Despite the leather glove, his touch paints heat over my skin.
He waggles his eyebrows. “You don’t want to spend your whole life only knowing what those limp-dick idiots can offer. Or maybe you’re afraid I’ll ruin whatever’s waiting for you?”
Through the skittering of my pulse, I keep my tone light but tart. “The only thing you seem likely to ruin is my night. How about you let go of me and find someone who’s interested?”
Salvatore prowls around me, trailing his fingers across my belly and back before reclaiming my elbow. “What a scaredy cat. I know, you’re worried you won’t live up to all the girls I’ve already had a great time with. I’m sure I can get you up to speed.”
A hitch of nausea cuts through the heady warmth of his nearness. Would my Salvatore have become such a man-whore if our match hadn’t sparked when it did?
It isn’t as if he was a saint, but he definitely wasn’t this much of a letch at seventeen.
One of Salvatore’s friends knocks into him as we pass him in the hall. He doesn’t seem to notice our clasped hands.
“Hey, man, gonna hit the bar with us tonight? There was lots of fresh meat last time.”
Salvatore’s fingers tighten around mine. He aims a look as sharp as his switchblade at the other guy. “I’m off the market, you bozo, in case you forgot.”
The friend’s gaze slides to me. He scoffs as if he finds it hard to believe Salvatore would settle and then hightails it into a classroom when Salvatore’s expression turns even fiercer.
We continue down the hall past other roaming schoolmates in silence. Then Salvatore tugs me into an alcove by an awards display case.
He runs his free hand through his hair, his head ducked self-consciously. “Does it bother you?”
I blink at him. “That your friends are jerks?” Something twisted in my chest at the guy’s obvious dismissal of me, but it’s nothing worse than I’ve felt hundreds of times in all sorts of other scenarios before. “Almost everyone in this place is.”
“No. I mean, not just that. That—that I was hooking up with people before you. Just a few drab girls, just a little fun here and there, but I know that’s not…
normal for most of the lucent families, at least the ones that go here.
The people on both sides of mine think waiting’s for wimps.
Not that they forced me into it—I did enjoy it. I mean…”
He looks so adorably awkward the tension in me melts.
I hook my fingers around his collar and give it a teasing tug. “You mean you were a horny teenager.”
He exhales with a huff of amusement and leans close enough for his lips to brush my jaw. “I’m still a horny teenager. But you’re everything I need, mia amata.”
This Salvatore shatters the memory with another brush of his fingers, tracing the curve of my ass.
I force down the lump in my throat and jerk away with enough force that he releases my arm. “How much you’ve spread yourself around isn’t a selling point.”
Salvatore guffaws, but it sounds more harsh than amused. “Ah. Do you think you’re too good for me, patatina?”
I can’t help but echo his laugh with a bit of a sputter. If he had any idea how far down the social ladder I’ve been in my actual life…
“You don’t know me,” I inform him, and turn my back on him. As I move away through the crowd, it occurs to me that what I just said might have been true even when it comes to Other Elodie.
No one around her seems to have had the faintest clue what she was really up to.
But Salvatore just won’t let it rest. He bounds through the crowd and swaggers into my path. “I know that somewhere under all that ice you’re a little curious. Let’s see the famous Elodie Devine let loose for once.”
His mocking tone frays the last of my patience. As if he’s anyone to talk about putting on a false front, about denying what you really want.
He doesn’t know me, but I know so much about him.
I always imagined that if it wasn’t for me, my Salvatore would have stood up to his family once he’d gotten a little older and more confident.
Shaped his association with them into something he was proud of, reigned over the syndicates and at school with more force than fucking around.
But this one’s had three extra years, and he’s only gone more off the rails.
Who is he going to become if he keeps heading down this road? The thought of him careening even farther makes my stomach turn.
I take a step toward him, so abruptly his jaw gives a startled twitch. Before he can launch into more of his seductive onslaught, I jab him in the chest, holding his gaze.
“How about we see you stop dancing for your family like a puppet? What’s so brave about that—taking out your frustrations on the rest of us because you won’t stand up to them?
I don’t think you’re going to like the life you end up living if you keep letting them call the shots. And it’ll be no one’s fault but yours.”
Salvatore gapes at me, a strangled sound he can’t manage to form into words falling from his mouth. Even if this version of him doesn’t see things quite the same way mine did, I’ve obviously hit a mark.
“Good,” I go on. “Shut up and think about that for a minute. Because no one but you is going to get you out of this mess. Stop trying to drag me into your identity crisis. I’ve got better things to do.”
I yank myself away from him again and stride over to the refreshments table.
In that first moment, a strange lightness washes over me. Some of that tirade was just putting this version of Salvatore in his place. Some was an awful lot like things I’d have liked to say—more gently—to my own match from time to time. I just never dared when he was doing so much for me.
My gaze slides back to the crowd on the dance floor, and a wave of dread drowns my relief.
Salvatore is still frozen in the crowd, his hands clenched into fists, his gaze turned toward me. Even under the streaks of colored lights, I can make out the vicious smolder in his eyes.
With a swing of his arm, he clears a path and barges out of the ballroom. My heart still gives a little tug—the constant reminder of the fractured bond that keeps throwing us together.
No matter how I try to keep my distance, I always end up colliding with these guys. Have I actually shut him down for good… or next time will he just hit me even harder?