Chapter 23
Still Mine
IRIS
Elliot’s lucky. I know he doesn’t think so, and I understand why it might not seem like it, but I think he might be the luckiest person in the world. Him and every other wolf born to bear the Cross curse. I envy him for it.
I even wish we could trade places, and it would be him whose tea didn’t taste right this morning, and him who can’t seem to pick up the little green book because it makes him think of me.
I wish it were him who has to hold his breath when he passes the flower shop on 5th because it reminds him of his mom, and him who can’t go to the teahouse on 3rd because it was his father’s favorite.
I wish I’d never known love, and he were heartbroken instead of me.
But then I realize that I could never be so cruel. Not to him. Not in a hundred years.
“Hey,” Kitty mutters beneath her breath as she joins our little table at the back of the library.
It grows cluttered as she unpacks her bottomless bag, but Elsie doesn’t seem to mind. She’s nose deep in the pages of an old book on fate binding, and she doesn’t so much as glance up as Kitty takes her seat.
“Hi,” I say.
Before yesterday, I would’ve asked her what she’s reading, and she would smile sweetly and detail every step of her current project while Elsie and I listened, happily asking questions as she went. But that was yesterday, when my tea still tasted right.
Now, I just go back to my book. Though I don’t make it very far down the page before my phone vibrates across the table.
I groan as I watch it buzz. There are only two possibilities for who’s on the other side, and I’m not happy about either of them.
Eater #1
Check in.
My eyes roll, but I respond without delay. I don’t want him barging into the library, disturbing the peace. He is much harder to ignore with all six feet, six inches of him standing in front of you.
Library
I set the phone face down to keep myself from picking it up and typing out the message I’ve thought to send at least a hundred times.
I imagine it goes something like this:
Fuck off.
Delete my number.
Do not speak to me ever again.
Eat a dick....
It goes on that way for a while.
I’ve even typed it out a few times. But I never manage to hit send.
Before I can muster up the courage, I see Grey’s ugly face, choked and bleeding out in the grass, and I remember Elliot’s words, “a dampener or a cage.”
Those are my options if the Inquisition discovers the lie we’ve told. So instead, I’ve decided to set a clear standard.
We will be seen together, in public, at the start and end of every week, by no less than thirty people. He is allowed a singular embrace that lasts no longer than thirty seconds with no kissing of any kind. After which, I will allow him to walk me home.
I’ve decided the bike cannot be trusted. It is too easy to be confused by the gentle hum between your legs. Best to avoid it altogether.
In exchange for “letting” me walk to and from my classes without him looming behind me, I will inform him of my whereabouts. Which he never fails to remind me of.
And instead of feeding from him directly, I will use his cursed toy to feed myself.
It’s an ideal scenario, really.
All the perks of a boyfriend. None of the hassel. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself, even as the hollow ache in my stomach continues to grow.
I am concerned it may soon become a fixture in my life. Right alongside the never-ending whispers and the unabashed stares—all-consuming hunger. Lovely.
I pick up my book and re-read the first three lines at least five times before I give up entirely, and as I look around the table, I see myself reflected back at me.
Kitty is sitting in front of me, book open, eyes unfocused, while Elsie sits folded awkwardly in her chair, picking at a spot of lint on her skirt.
I do not know what is wrong with either of them. Everyone seems to have secrets of their own these days. But if I had to put my money on it, I’d bet a man had something to do with it.
Who else could dull a woman’s shine so effectively?
They are so reckless with our hearts, you’d think they were being paid to destroy them.
“Ugh!” I groan, slamming my book down with a thwack. “Fuck them!”
Elsie and Kitty look at me then, confusion splashed on their faces, but it only takes a moment before they catch my meaning.
“For real!” Elise mutters.
“Yeah!” Kitty shouts. “Fuck ‘em!”
Elsie and I glance at each other, shocked to hear such foul words from Kitty’s pretty lips.
She clamps a hand over her mouth as she remembers where we are, but the wide-eyed look only adds to the absurdity, and we devolve into laughter, waving at the people around us in apology.
When the wheezing giggles finally stop, I don’t ask them what’s wrong. Instead, I offer a solution.
“Let’s go out.”
Kitty needs no convincing. Music and dancing aside, she loves a good brew. Combine all three, and she’ll never turn you down.
Elsie, on the other hand, tired as she is, requires a bit of bribery. In exchange for the pick of my shoe collection, she agreed to give me a few hours. And given the slow pace at which she’s moving, it was a bargain, if you ask me.
“Come on, Els,” Kitty snaps. “Stop dragging your feet.”
Kitty has very little patience for dawdling when there is a dancefloor in sight.
She snatches Elsie by the wrist and practically yanks her past the towering ogre positioned outside of Beta.
“I’m coming,” Elsie grumbles, shimmying sideways through the crush of bodies huddled at the entrance.
Kitty leads the charge as we weave through the crowd, baring her teeth at anyone who dares to block her path, which is more frequent than you’d think.
Beta, like most clubs on a Friday night in Highcrest, is packed full of high-born brats. So there’s an unmistakable air of importance clogging the room as we try to make our way to the bar.
I blame the high-priced brew. It’s convinced them this place, with the sticky floor and strobing red lights, is somehow better than the other spots around town. But the truth is, Beta isn’t that different from The Dragonfly or K.C.
They’ve all got the same drinks, same DJs on rotation, same handsy crowd.
The only thing that makes Beta worth the hassle of wading through a hundred moon-drunk college boys, is the girls.
Stationed around the room, high above the reach of the crowd below, are stone pillars, atop which, women of every size and shade dance half-clothed to the heavy bass thumping in my ears.
Kitty pauses to oogle them, eyes wide and glittering.
Looking at her, you might think it was lust, but if you know Kitty, then you know it’s really envy.
“Come on,” I prompt, tugging at her tail. “You can drool over them later. I need a drink.”
It takes a moment before she pries her eyes away and pushes through to the bar. But she stops abruptly when it comes into sight, causing Elsie, me, and half a dozen drunken patrons to crash into us.
“What the fu—”
Elsie’s words are cut off as her gaze follows Kitty’s, and when I see what they’re glaring at, I reiterate the sentiment.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” I sigh.
Standing around the bar, laughing as if they haven’t a care in the world, are Elliot and Dame.
Beside them, nodding in agreement, is a man I don’t recognize, dressed in all black, and to top it off, on the other side of the counter, mixing a drink with a bored look on his face, is Dredrick Bloodsoe.
We all groan in unison, and Elsie turns on her heel.
“Let’s go,” she says.
Kitty starts to follow, but I stop them.
“What? We’re just leaving? Just like that?”
Kitty’s eyes roll, and Elsie looks more tired than before.
“I don’t feel like looking at them,” Elsie says.
Fair enough.
“I don’t feel like smelling them,” Kitty says, holding a hand to her nose as if their scent is truly sickening.
“Oh, come on. We can’t let them have this! Why should they get to have all the fun? They’re the idiots! Not us!”
That seems to spark Elsie’s anger, and once that torch is lit, there’s no extinguishing it.
“Yeah, you’re right. They are idiots.”
She snatches us both by the hand, dragging us forward.
Dred spots us first, and the other three heads turn as he mutters something.
Dame is the first one on his feet.
“What are you guys doing here?” he asks, standing between us and the bar.
He speaks mostly to Kitty, but his eyes scan back and forth amongst the three of us as if he is truly baffled to see us outside.
“Did you hit your head or something?” Kitty asks, temper already short.
“What?” Dame answers, unaware of the bear he’s poking.
“What does it look like?” Kitty snaps. “We’re here to shake some ass.”
Dame’s ears flatten against his head as he cringes.
“Ew. Chill.”
“Can you move?” Elsie cuts in.
Dame looks at her.
“What?” he says.
Yeah, I’m starting to see why that pisses Elliot off.
“You’re in the way,” she says, shooing him with a hand.
“Oh. I—”
He steps aside, but as Elsie pushes past him, he reaches for her, then thinks better of it and drops his hand.
Kitty follows, wedging herself between Dame and the dark-haired boy on his right. He seems to stiffen as she draws nearer, but he makes no move to give her space.
I stand there a moment, trying to sort through what I’m looking at before Elliot’s voice comes husky and crisp, just over my shoulder.
“You didn’t text me.”
A chill rises on my skin as his breath skirts down my neck, and I spin on my heel to find him standing over me, glaring.
“I thought we had an agreement, Iris.”
“We do,” I say.
“Then why didn’t you text me?”
“Because I don’t need a babysitter,” I hiss.
“Don’t be stupid. You know that’s not why I want you to check in.”
There is no smile on his face as he speaks, only a gut-wrenching pain in those soft, green eyes, and I’m not sure how to respond to that.
His answer doesn’t fit the script.
Usually, when I say something snarky, he says something snarkier, followed by a dirty comment, which I then tease him for. Then rinse and repeat. Until one of us “wins.”
But the game is no fun by myself, and I have a feeling it’s finally over. And we both lost.
“I just wanted a night to myself,” I confess.
He nods, moving a braid out of my face.
“That’s fine, but I still need to know where you are.”
“Well, here I am, Elliot.” I lift my arms as evidence. “Still in one piece. So maybe you can take the night off.”
He scoffs, rubbing at his neck.
Now that I know what the thick leather choker is for, I can spot it tightening, but he doesn’t pull at it as he usually does.
“If only,” he mutters, barely trying to hide his irritation.
My teeth grind, and I picture myself biting his head off, leaving him bleeding out all over the bar. But I hear slaughtering your boyfriend in public doesn’t bode well for keeping up with the image of a happy couple. So instead, I wave a finger at Dred.
“One dragon ball,” I say.
He nods, ducking behind the bar and shaking up a single cocktail. When he’s done, he passes on a thought along with the sweating glass of brew.
Careful, little monster, he’s not himself tonight.
My lip curls at his intrusion and that stupid nickname.
“Since when do you work here?” I ask, making my disdain known.
“Since now. That’ll be fifteen drac,” he answers dryly, holding out his hand.
Elliot intervenes.
“Put it on my tab,” he says.
“No,” I snap. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Ignore her,” he directs. “She’s just being dramatic, as usual.”
“Excuse me?”
My neck snaps around, and Elliot shakes his head, a whisper of a smile returning to his face.
“I’ve never let you pay for a drink in your life. I’m not going to start today just because you’re mad at me.”
Mad at him?
Is that what he thinks this is? Anger?
“I’m not mad at you,” I correct.
“Great. Then shut up and let me pay for the drink.”
My brows lift.
He’s getting a little too comfortable telling me what to do.
“Alright, and am I allowed to dance?”
Elliot’s teeth grind, and he downs the rest of his brew before slamming the empty glass back on the bar and roping an arm around my waist.
I don’t fight him as he yanks me forward a step, but I can’t help but gasp as his tongue snakes out, and he drags it over my chest, moving from one breast to the other, continuing up my throat and behind my left ear.
He releases me, like one would drop hot coals, and I step back, unable to hide the shock on my face.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“You asked to dance, now you can go dance,” he says, lifting a finger toward Dred.
The nosy vampire quickly pours out another drink, and Elliot downs that one too before adding, “At least these idiots will know you’re spoken for.”
My face heats, and the ache in my stomach bottoms out.
I was planning on dancing alone. Like I prefer. But the thought that Elliot ever had the right to dictate such a thing leaves my blood boiling.
“Did you just mark me?” I mutter through clenched teeth.
Elliot smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re still mine, Iris. That hasn’t changed. And I will not let them forget it.”
Dred is wrong.
Elliot is perfectly himself. This just happens to be the version of him that isn’t preoccupied with making everyone else feel better, including me.
I would say it’s jealousy if I thought he were capable of such emotion, but knowing what I know now, I guess it’s nothing but apathy.
I guess it always was. Strange how convincing he can be.
“Have a nice night, Elliot.”
He lifts his chin in acknowledgment.
“You too, princess.”
I don’t wait for Elsie and Kitty. I think if I continue standing here, I will explode. Or drain every man in a four-foot radius just to see if it will satisfy me.
That’d be cool.
Get out of my head, Dred!
He laughs aloud as I turn on my heel, searching through the crowd.
It only takes me thirty seconds to find what I’m looking for.
Tall, dark, muscular—horns thicker than my thighs and too dumb to consider why I smell like dog—a minotaur twice my size, with a lust pouring out of him so strong he could drown in it.
My glamour fits a little tighter than I remember as I let it fall over my face. It’s been a while since I’ve needed it, but it is no less effective.
The minotaur, already watching, moves in my direction.
The crowd parts for him. Or rather, he parts the crowd with his broad shoulders and whip of a tail.
“Hi.”
His voice rumbles, but I do not answer.
I’m not interested in anything he has to say.
I take him by the hand and lead him onto the dancefloor, letting him pull me in close and run his hands over my body.
It is not a loving touch, but a hungry one.
One I’m less familiar with as of late. I’ve become so used to Elliot’s knowing hands; I almost forgot how men are.
Clumsy, lazy. Always wandering aimlessly.
But it’s alright. I have no plans on feeding from this man.
I just need him to stand here and look pretty while Elliot watches what’s “his.”