47. Chapter 47
Alexi
The music pounds through the ballroom, rattling my glass on the table. I lean back in my chair with one arm draped across the velvet booth, letting some brunette from Lust trace lazy fingers over the collar of my suit while another girl laughs too loudly at something Ryker says beside me.
Normally, this part is simple.
Smile. Flirt. Touch.
Perform.
People want beautiful distractions, and I’ve spent years perfecting how to become one. To enjoy it even. But tonight feels different.
Because the second Arwen walks in, the entire room shifts around her. I notice it immediately. Conversation stutters. Eyes drift. Attention bends toward her like gravity itself decided she was suddenly the center of the damn universe.
The green dress fits her body like a second skin, cascading down her legs as if the fabric had been poured from a vase. Her hair falls over her bare shoulder in loose waves, and she’s smiling as her friends crowd around her near the entrance.
Maddox appears at her side moments later, and the look on his face when he sees her nearly makes me sick. Like he’s already built a throne for her in his head and would happily burn the world to keep her sitting on it.
“Damn,” one girl beside me mutters. “West looks obsessed. I’ve never even seen him show up to one of these events.”
I knock back the rest of my drink.
Maddox guides Arwen toward the dance floor as the music shifts into something darker and louder, heavy bass vibrating beneath our feet.
Protective even while dancing. His hands never leave her for long. His eyes scan the room between glances at her, like he’s already calculating how many bodies he’d need to bury if someone touched her wrong.
My fist tightens on my empty glass.
Across the ballroom, another movement catches my attention.
Of course. Her other bond, Atticus. He stands in the middle of his Pride posse, looking miserable beside some blonde girl draped in silver. She’s talking nonstop while touching his arm every few seconds, and every single time she does, Atticus subtly pulls away like the physical contact burns him.
But his attention? It’s completely on Arwen.
Always Arwen. Obviously Arwen. How no one else sees it is beyond me.
His expression hardens as Maddox spins her beneath the floating lantern light. Jealousy looks ugly on most people. On Atticus, it somehow looks elegant.
A loud screeching laugh draws my attention back to Ryker, who has a girl on each knee. He reaches for the bottle sitting at the center of the table.
“What’s with the mood?” He asks. “You look homicidal.”
“I’m considering it if the one on your left doesn’t stop sounding like a banshee.”
“Fair.”
But even Ryker can’t stop looking toward the dance floor.
Arwen moves through the crowd easily. Her friends pull her away from Maddox into the center of the dance floor while the music builds faster around them.
The academy used to look through her. Now it looks like it orbits her. And I understand exactly how useless a bond I would be in this dynamic.
Maddox protects her.
Atticus worships her.
And me?
I’m the bond she avoids at all costs. Something bitter curls in my chest. So I do what I always do when something starts to feel too real.
I perform.
I grab the brunette hanging off me by the hand and pull her toward the dance floor. She squeals happily, red lips stretching into a grin as she presses herself against me. Typical Lust behavior.
“Alexi,” she laughs, fingers sliding into my hair behind me. “Are you finally ready to dance?”
But my attention isn’t on her. It’s on Arwen. I lead the girl behind me up as close to her group as I can get, before spinning her around and dancing. The brunette laughs as she shakes her hips, running her fingers through her hair seductively.
The crowd shifts as the song changes into something faster, drenched in electric rhythm.
And suddenly Arwen turns right into me.
Her hand catches against my chest to steady herself while my palm instinctively lands against her waist. The contact hits like a spark to gasoline.
For one dangerous second, everything else disappears. And it’s just her.
Almost like we’re drawn together, she ends up against me. Her back to my front, and my arms curl around and grab her hips. My body lights up.
I’m a Lust. I’ve had plenty of experiences. And this? Touching her hip? It sets my body on fire more than all of them.
The brunette huffs in frustration behind me, but my attention is on the warm silk beneath my hand.
Her soft hair brushing against my chest. The feel of her perfect ass so close to me, I’m dying to close the remaining inches so we press right up against each other and I can show her just how much she turns me on. I’m so hard, it’s painful.
She leans back into me, and her gorgeous blue eyes look up into mine. She looks uncertain, but the chemistry between us snaps tight so suddenly it almost hurts. Her lips part as the music pulses around us.
We’re close enough that I could kiss her right now.
And for one reckless heartbeat—
I almost do.
Then sanity slams back into me, and I step away. Because someone as special as Arwen Davies won’t choose someone like me when they already have powerful men willing to burn the world at their feet.
Confusion flickers across her face. Maybe even disappointment. I bury the thought beneath a grin and a wink. “Fun night, huh?”
Before she can answer, I spin the brunette back into my arms. The girl laughs breathlessly as I dip her low and drag her back against me, all practiced charm and public decadence.
Then, because apparently I enjoy self-destruction, I kiss her. Hard.
Explicit enough to make nearby students whistle. The brunette melts against me, fingers clutching my jacket as I give the crowd what they expect from Alexi Zevalli.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Arwen go still as her expression shutters. And despite the victory curdling bitter in my chest—
It still hurts when she quietly tells her friends, “I’m going to get some air.”
Then she turns and walks away.