Chapter 10
Kieran consumes my thoughts like a spiderweb I can”t shake off, but my focus is on the Preston Gala this evening and my date with Mickey. I’ve dreaded the event all week, yet another reminder of how out of place I”ve been feeling since I woke up confused and disoriented in the hospital. But I already had agreed and had the dress, so it felt cowardly of me to back out now.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I can”t help but think maybe I should just be a coward and hide under my bedcovers for the rest of the night. A night of faces I can”t remember talking to me about events I can”t recall. I can”t help but wonder what secrets are hidden in my gaze. What memories are locked in my mind.
The zip of my emerald gown weaves its silent song up the curve of my spine, Iris standing behind me, her deft fingers working the delicate fabric with care. The mirror reflects a stranger draped in elegance, her forest green eyes wide with a blend of anticipation and anxiety.
”Stop fidgeting, Avie,” Iris chides gently, a smile tugging at her rosebud lips. The scent of her floral perfume mingles with the warm air of my apartment, settling like a promise on my skin. ”You look breathtaking. Are you excited to see Mickey tonight?”
I smile and murmur my assent as Iris heads back to my closet to find shoes for the dress. While my thoughts about the gala should be about my date, they keep drifting and catching on the dark eyes of Kieran Calder.
Iris interrupts my thoughts when she pops out of my closet, holding up a pair of shiny gold heels.
”What about these?” she asks as I glance down at the green velvet dress draped across my body.
”Those will work,” I reply absently, reaching out to grab the shoes. I bend down, putting my feet inside the strappy, glittering contraptions before securing them around my ankles.
Iris comes to stand behind me, assessing my reflection in the mirror as I shift to stand back up. I smile at Iris”s gaze in the glass. Her short dark hair is slicked back, and a bright pink gauzy dress adorns her frame. It suits her personality, light and bubbly.
Glancing back at my reflection, I realize I”m dressed like the forest I so adore these days, the rich velvet a lovely shade of emerald.
Iris helped me with my hair, so the dark copper strands are curled delicately around my face. I reach up to take off the necklace I always wear, the rose gold gleaming in the early evening light.
I”ve often wondered what it means or why I have it, the pendant like a circle with two leaves on either side that weave their way inside the sphere. Looking down at the necklace in my hand, a wave of longing washes through me. For some reason, I don”t want to part with the necklace, even though it would look out of place with the evening gown. I decide to wrap it around my wrist as a bracelet, a tether to the person I want to be, no matter how much my past seems to haunt me.
I clasp the gemstone necklace Amanda picked out around my neck. It feels too heavy and out of place there, like it”s an anchor dragging me down. But I”m trying to fit in, trying to be a good friend to Amanda, and she picked out this necklace to go with my dress. And I know Amanda is trying too, and she picked the necklace with its flower and leaf design as a nod to my newfound love of the woods and all things nature.
I catch Iris” gaze in the mirror and give her a quick smile. I hope she can”t see how tight it is at the edges. Finding my place in life again feels like attempting to wear a coat that is two sizes too small. No matter how much I tug and twist, it doesn”t fit me.
I thought the job at the library, in a place surrounded by books I love, would be the answer, but there”s still a strain, this chasm between me and my life that seems too large to cross.
The evening air is crisp as we arrive at the Preston Gala, the girls deciding we would ride together and meet our dates there. The grand facade of the building looming before us like a gothic masterpiece. The stone walls are adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures, their eyes seeming to follow our every move as we step out of the chauffeured car, the heavy wooden doors beckoning us inside.
I hang back, letting my friends walk ahead of me and admire the colorful picture they make. Claire in shimmery gold, Amanda in bold red, Jessica in a deep blue that she swears matches her finance’s eyes, and Iris in her puffy pink dress.
I want to fit in. I want to belong with these women I watch walk ahead of me, but I feel further apart from them than ever, despite my attempts to find common ground and build comradery over the past weeks.
Shaking off the thoughts, I take large strides to catch up with my friends, my gold heels swishing the soft velvet around me.
Weaving my arm with Claire”s, I beam up at my best friend, determined to shake off the feelings haunting me.
”You ready?” Claire glances at me, and I know she understands my trepidation as I nod and walk inside the building.
I can”t stop the gasp that leaves my lips as I step inside the ballroom, which is like stepping inside another world.
They hold the Preston Gala here every year, but I don”t have any memories of it.
The inside of the ballroom seems to glitter, with faux candles and gold accents. White flowers, including lilies and baby”s breath, adorn the tables, and the twinkling lights almost make the atmosphere seem ethereal, like we”re up in the clouds.
My mind flashes back to a book about angels, and I can”t help but feel a little uncomfortable at how these people would adorn this space to reflect a heavenly, golden vibe, when the true good thing to do would have been to take this gala money and give it directly to a charity.
Doing my best to shove that line of thinking aside, knowing it would do nothing but further the divide I”m currently feeling, a turn to a server making the rounds and grab a glass of champagne off their tray. I barely restrain myself from swallowing the whole thing in one go and instead sip at the bubbly liquid, following Claire to a table.
As we all sit down, I catch glimpses of dazzling gowns and sparkling jewels. The space is alive with laughter and music, a symphony of voices and melodies filling the air.
My hand fiddles with the necklace curled around my wrist with little thought. Glancing down at it, I feel bolstered by a sense of strength that doesn”t quite feel like my own. I take a deep breath and try to join in the conversation of my friends around me, despite the turmoil doing its best to drown everything out.
”What are we talking about?” I ask, peering at Claire, who is sitting next to me.
Claire smiles and answers, ”The new Lorelei Crane exhibit coming to the art gallery.”
”Oh,” I say before Amanda interrupts me.
”You know, where you used to work. Don”t you remember? You were the one that spearheaded the campaign to get Crane”s work at the gallery.”
My face falls at that. I don”t remember. I can”t remember. The hush that has fallen over the table tells me that the other girls know I don”t remember as well. The color drains from Amanda’s face, her mouth moving, but no sounds coming out.
I know she feels bad, but I just want to disappear, just melt into the floor. Thoughts race through my head about how I shouldn”t have come here. I rather be in the forest, or the library, or at home with Conan. Anywhere but here where it feels like my skin is crawling with the need to escape and run away.
The moment feels like it stretches out forever, but I know it”s only a couple of seconds of stilted silence before Claire and Iris are both talking at once, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic.
I nod and smile, waving away Amanda”s blunder, eager to forget that I can”t remember, to pretend that this is where I belong and that I still fit in with my friends. It”s a mask I”m becoming more and more at ease with wearing. The thought tickles the back of my mind like a scratch I can”t itch, but I push it aside, shoving it into a mental box to deal with later.
As more and more people arrive, the soft music becomes louder, and more folks make their way to the dance floor.
As I watch, I realize I don”t really know anyone here other than the girls sitting at the table with me. More thoughts about how I shouldn”t be here attempt to escape the box in the back of my mind, so I add mental chains around the box to keep it closed.
”Would you care to dance?” The drawl interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see Mickey staring back at me, hand held out expectantly. I do my best to place a charming smile on my face.
Mickey”s olive skin gleams under the candlelight, his hazel eyes framed by curly black hair. His tuxedo fits him like he was born to wear it, a stark contrast to the unease coiling within me. His smile doesn”t quite reach his eyes as they settle on me, the appraisal in them unmistakable. Belatedly, I realize that Mickey’s hand is still outstretched towards me. I scramble, widening my smile and placing my hand in his.
I feel like a robot, letting Mickey lead me to the dance floor. What am I even doing here? Before I can register what”s happening, Mickey sweeps me in his arms and we”re moving to the music, Mickey’s hands settling possessively on my waist.
The effort to wipe the bored-I-rather-be-anywhere-but-here look from my face must not be working because Mickey looks confused, almost as if he is trying to fight a scowl. This evening isn”t going at all how it was supposed to go and I can feel bright panic nipping at my heels, ready to devour me whole.
”You look uncomfortable, Avalina,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble above the music”s embrace. ”Is this too much for little ol” you?”
I falter, his condescension pricking at my already fragile composure. The warmth of his body against mine feels intrusive rather than comforting, and I can”t shake the feeling of being a lamb trotted out for show among wolves.
”Maybe I”m just not used to all this,” I admit, hoping for a sliver of understanding.
”Or maybe you just don”t belong here,” Mickey retorts, his smile now carrying a sharp edge.
His words sting, confirming my fears. Yet, despite the chill of his mockery, there”s a fire within me that refuses to be extinguished—a fiery remnant of the woman I used to be, perhaps, or the one I am becoming. I lift my chin, determined not to let Mickey James, or anyone else, dictate where I belong.
Before I can say anything, a shadow looms over us and a voice I”d recognize anywhere interrupts.
”May I cut in?” Kieran”s voice is steel wrapped in velvet, a dangerous combination that has my heart stumbling over its own rhythm.
Mickey”s grip tightens, his smile now a sneer. ”I don”t recall her being yours to dance with, Calder.”
”Maybe you”ve danced enough” Kieran replies, eyes locked onto mine. There”s a silent plea there, a question he can”t voice amidst the throng of high society.
”Keep dreaming,” Mickey spits back, pulling me closer. His touch burns with possession, branding me as an object rather than a partner.
Kieran steps forward, and the space between the three of us charges with an electric current. ”She”s not your plaything, James.”
”Since when do you care?” Mickey challenges, baring the fangs of his bruised ego.
”Since always,” Kieran breathes, and his fist flies, connecting with Mickey”s jaw in a crack that resonates louder than the crescendo of violins.
The crowd gasps, a collective intake of breath that sucks the warmth from the room. Mickey stumbles back, surprise etched into the lines of his face where a red mark blooms like a rose in winter. He touches his jaw, eyes wide with disbelief, then glares at Kieran with venomous defeat before disappearing into the sea of bodies.
Silence stretches, a taut string ready to snap, until Kieran extends his hand to me, palm open and inviting. ”Dance with me, Avalina.”
I place my hand in his, instinctively seeking the heat that promises sanctuary. The world fades into a backdrop as we find our rhythm, bodies moving in sync to a song that seems composed just for us. Kieran”s hands are firm but gentle, guiding without dictating, a stark contrast to Mickey”s earlier claims.
”You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper, caught in the orbit of his dark eyes.
”I did,” he says simply, and I believe him.
Our dance is a conversation without words, every turn and dip a sentence spun from the language of desire. The spicy scent of his cologne wraps around me, a heady mix of power and mystery that I remember without knowing why.
”Thank you,” I murmur, gratitude mingling with something deeper, something that feels like yearning.
”Anything for you,” he replies, his voice a caress that ignites a fire deep within me, a fire I thought was long extinguished.
”What are you even doing here?” I gasp, my mind reeling with the events.
”A little bird told me you were going to be here, and I thought I”d join you.”
”But, why?” I ask, perplexed.
Kieran doesn’t answer. His eyes pierce mine with ruthless intensity. I want to look away but can”t, feeling the strongest feeling of something just out of reach in the corner of my mind. A wave of déjà vu threatens to take me under.
”You know, I asked around about you.”
”You did? And what did you find out?”
”Nothing. No one wants to talk about you.” I can feel my eyes narrow and try to shove down my rising frustration at the lack of answers.
”Who are you?” I finally ask, my voice barely audible in the cavernous ballroom. His sensuous mouth curves into a knowing smile. I can”t help but bite my own in response.
”I think you know, Avalina,” he says, my name sounding intimate on his lips. His voice is a low caress.
My pulse quickens, and I feel my breath coming faster. I have the curious urge to reach out and touch him. I automatically reach up to toy with my necklace, but it”s not there. It”s on my wrist instead. I glance down at it, frowning. I can”t help but notice how closely Kieran watches the movement.
”Do you like this necklace? I”ve noticed you look at it a lot.”
”You always wear it. Why?”
I shrug. ”It feels comforting, safe.” I pause, unsure of my next words or why I want to voice them. But Kieran was the one that reminded me to use my words. ”Was it from you?”
”Yes.” he replies, voice strained with something I couldn”t place.
”Why?”
”So you would remember me.” His words were coated with a longing I recognized, but it terrifies me all the same.
Sensing my turmoil, he lifts a hand as if to touch my cheek but stops just shy of contact. Even that near caress sends heat flooding through me.
The song ends too soon, and Kieran steps aside, but not before bending to whisper in my ear. ”Meet me in the woods tomorrow morning, 8am. Your favorite spot by the old oak tree.”
I pause, stunned. My brain finally catches up and I turn to ask him how he knows about my favorite spot, but he”s already gone, disappearing into the crowd like he was never here.