29. His Choice #2
Damien, the cynosure of the ball, was standing near the royal table, accepting some noblemen’s toasts, and he was ...
beautiful. The blazing lamplight couldn’t make his raven hair less dark, yet it tinted his sun-bronzed skin with a golden sheen.
He was wearing a black velvet tunic, delicately embroidered in silver, which glistened faintly as he moved.
A sapphire sash was wrapped around his lean waist, and my red garnet knife was still tucked into it.
He stood there, no need to do much, yet all attention gravitated toward him, falling into his sharp, perilous beauty like water plunging into a chasm.
I saw all those captivated, love-struck gazes follow him avidly, surrounding him, pushing him far, far away from me.
Lovel was standing next to him, clad in an extravagant, yet flimsy, red robe, which showcased his slender, willowy frame.
Everything about him was flawless, from the elegant lineaments of his features to the soft curves of his body.
He was indeed breathtaking, possibly the most beautiful omega I’d seen, if I was being objective.
Why wouldn’t anyone choose him, especially when he came with one of the most powerful werewolf clans in this land?
Just then, Damien’s gaze shot through the throng and met mine, and I felt like an insect pinned to a board, even my heart forgot to beat. We stared at each other across the capacious glade for a few seconds, then he looked away.
He continued to greet and talk to other nobles and royal guests, never acknowledging my presence again, and never made any move to approach me.
It was for the best. The farther away he was from me, the safer he would be. I looked down into my wine, seeing my own pale face and empty eyes reflected in the dark red liquid. My mating mark throbbed, yet it was not as bad as the wringing pain pulsating in my chest.
“How dare you show your face here? Have you no shame? You cock-loving whore!” a half-drunk alpha said behind me.
I glanced sidelong at him. He was stocky with beady eyes. From the Eclipse Clan … Alan’s cousin, someone called Brent, from what I recalled.
I ignored him and tried to move away, perhaps finding a quieter spot to watch Leif dance with others. But he grabbed my arm abruptly, making me spill my drink on my tunic.
Fuck, I hoped the wine stain would wash off.
“Where are you going, whore?” Brent croaked, slurring slightly. A few specks of his saliva flew on my hand. “If you like submitting to another alpha so much, why don’t you bend over here and show me how good your arse feels?”
A few other alphas nearby snickered, enjoying the spectacle.
I took a deep breath, telling myself now was not a good time to cause a scene, and said in a warning tone, “Unhand me.”
“Ooooh, spooky!” Brent laughed loudly. “Are you also this feisty in bed?”
“If you want to lose your arm like your cousin,” I said with an unusually even tone, “keep going.”
I guess my expression was scary enough to rouse him from his drunk state. He flinched, his small eyes widened, and his thick fingers loosened.
“Lord Brent, Lord Gillian is looking for you.” A calming voice interjected. Johnathan eased himself gracefully between Brent and me, smiling courteously.
Brent mumbled some cheap insults and strutted away.
“I thought you were leaving?” Johnathan said, turning to face me, brows knitted.
“We’ll be leaving early in the morning,” I reassured him. “Just thought we’d finish this whole thing. It’s only one more night.”
Johnathan sighed, glancing around, and said, “Just ... stay in the crowd. I’m worried Eclipse will try something.”
“I won’t cause more trouble for you, promise.” I gave him a faint smirk. Then, a thought came to me, and I told him about Valerian’s “proposition” in a hushed voice.
Johnathan didn’t look surprised, though I could sense an unwieldy concern settle on him.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said cautiously.
“I won’t do what he says, of course.” I knew he probably didn’t think I would, but still thought it was better to tell him plainly.
“I know.” He nodded with a tiny, warm smile.
Just then, a few other young nobles pulled Johnathan away to join the next social dance, and our conversation ended there.
For the next half hour, after finding a relatively quiet corner, I helped myself to some roast beef, fruit, and more wine, and watched Leif dance with so much joy on his flushed countenance.
I tried not to look in Damien’s direction, but sometimes my eyes seemed to have their own will and would sneak one or two glances. He never joined the social dance, nor did he leave the royal tent. He was chatting with Lovel and a few other young courtiers, eliciting some giggles among them.
I wondered if he was still angry at me for my harsh words. Or maybe he had moved on?
Valerian and Cassandra were sitting behind the same table, and neither of them paid me much attention, as though they hadn’t tried to ruin my life or manipulate me into doing their bidding.
With crazy, dangerous siblings like this, plus a harsh, controlling mother, Damien would never be safe in his own home. He needed a strong force to push him to the throne. I hoped Lovel could do that for him.
I emptied my wine goblet with a few big gulps, trying to suppress the dull, rusty ache that continued to well up in my chest. This had proven to be harder than I thought, and I just hoped tonight would end soon.