Page 61 of Pretty Threats

“There will be a lot of them. Maybe too many for even you to handle.”

My mouth curves into a not-small smile. “Are you worried about me? Or just worried what will happen to you if I’m out of commission?”

“I guess… both.”

I slide my hand over to her thigh and squeeze. “If they try to start something, it’ll be the most fun I’ve had all day.”

“You’re not worried they could have a plan in place that would work against one lone guy?”

“If they manage to take me down, I’ll deserve it.”

“You’re that confident?” There’s no skepticism in her voice. In fact, she sounds reassured.

Sometimes, I forget about fear. From what I can tell, ordinary people experience a lot of it. Most of the time, I don’t feel much of anything, so I like the excitement that comes from a fight or the threat of one.

Now that I’m trained, it’s even less likely that I’ll lose a physical confrontation, so in most cases I can’t even get excited by the idea of a fight. I need to be right in one to feel the buzz.

The only exception to my enjoyment of bloody combat is when I think it’ll cost me the one thing I don’t like to lose… access to her.

Since she’s inclined to dislike these Beta assholes, I can fight with them as brutally as I want. But only if they start it. Raine doesn’t like when I’m the instigator.

RAINE

For some reason, I expected it to be a small party. Within the Tudor Revival brick-and-stone house, there are at least eighty people.

The young men of Beta House don’t look like monsters. They’re dressed in suits because they’re celebrating the founding of their charter. Staff dressed in navy and white circulate with trays of food and champagne. I film some features of the house and the party, but not specifically for Owen. It’s just beautiful and belongs on camera.

After a glass of champagne and plenty of delicious food, I’ve relaxed into the party spirit. I chat with as many people as I can, letting them direct the conversation. Almost everyone asks where I’m from and what I’m studying. No one mentions Casanova or the dark times last year.

Killian stays within my orbit. At school dances, he tended to remain seated at his table or stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall and watching. Here, he stands closer and his eyes follow me.

When I go to him with my mouth tingling from champagne, I say, “Thank you for being here tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” His arm slides around me and pulls me against his side.

“Would you like to dance?” I’m certain he’ll say no, but he surprises me by taking my hand and leading me into the crowd.

My sense of rhythm isn’t terrible, but it’s not the best, either. Which is frustrating since I love old musicals and would like to direct a modern one someday. I’d have to have an amazing composer, choreographer, and cast for that to work out.

Despite feeling a little out of my comfort zone, I like dancing with Killian. He’s smooth and doesn’t seem bothered when I sway the wrong way and he has to pull me back into position.

He smells like men’s cologne and cigarette smoke, and I want to taste his skin. Will he taste different here? He feels the same. Strong. Overpowering. But also more. I can dance and drink and wander into dark rooms. No one will hurt me. Because I carry my own darkness wherever I go. And its name is Killian.

My toes step on his foot, making a mark on his expensive shoe. “Sorry,” I murmur. “I like dancing, but I’m not great at it. Want to stop?”

“No.” His grip tightens on my waist.

In turn, I tighten my hold around his back and put my head against him, concentrating on the way we move together.

When I finally stop, it’s because I don’t care for the change in music. My hand touches the side of his handsome face. “I’m done.” As we leave the area, I look up at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

Mmm. That’s the best answer. Strands of my hair fall down over my cheekbones. With a heavy breath, I try to blow them away.

“Someone said you visit prostitutes. Regularly.” My eyes lock with his.

“While you were avoiding me, I fucked a few women. I’ve paid for sex, in special circumstances. Total number of times, three. Is that regularly?”

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