Page 10 of Serpent In White
Head Priest is here, watching me. He’s on the far side of the fire, grinning and giving little casual waves to people who acknowledge his presence, though refusing to speak and interrupt the performance. He’s like that.
Respectful, sweet. Just a generally great guy.
Okay, focus.
I ignore the warmth flooding my limbs and keep singing. It must be from the fire, all this heat…I’m fine.
We finish up the song and everyone cheers. I smile politely, trying not to focus on Darian, though I can’t stop peeking toward where he sits, Lauris at his side, grinning and sipping from herEffortlessly Awesomemug she uses for everything. And I can’t help but fixate on the fact that they aren’t holding hands or touching at all.
This isn’t news. Head Priest doesn’t do public displays of affection with his wives. Actually, he rarely interacts with them in any sort of way that would allude to romantic love, and I’m not the only one who notices that. He hangs out with them more like friends, and people have started to comment on it.
But that’s a thought for another time. Right now, I’m being berated with cheers for anencore.Jordan and I share a look, and without any further discussion, he launches into one of our personal favorites.Closerby The Chainsmokers.
It’s a ridiculous song for us to sing, but we kind of like that fact. Plus, the girls always get a kick out of it, and they all sing along, which is what they’re doing right now. I can’t help the little chuckle that slips through while I go in for the second bridge, gaze sliding across the fire once more.
Darian’s dark eyes are shining right at me, and it almost chokes me up again. It’s just such an intense stare. He appears casual enough, but then he’s giving me thislook. A look that no one else seems to be noticing, I might add, which appears to border on frustration. There’s something desperately inquisitive in his eyes, and it’s gripping at my heart from within my chest.
By the end of the song, I’m buzzing, but not from booze or weed, or even the adrenaline of singing in front of a crowd.
I’m high on those damn eyes.
The applause, cheers and whistles take a bit to die down, and Jordan’s eating it up. I am too, but I’m still dazed. A few people come up to hug us and gush. But once the crowd parts, I find Darian and Lauris gone, and my stomach falls onto the floor.
It’s such an odd reaction, I have no choice but to give it five minutes, then excuse myself for the night.
Heading back to my trailer, I’m kicking rocks and I’m not sure why. I had a great night. Jordan and I killed it, as we always do. And Head Priest showed up and apparently enjoyed the performance. I should be ecstatic, and I guess I am.
But I’m also confused.
I’m really not sure what these bizarre feelings are that I’ve been developing lately, but they’re beginning to worry me.
It’s not that I would care about being interested in men. And if I choose not to label my sexuality, that’s fine, too. The Principality doesn’t judge people based on race, gender, sexuality differences, anything like that. My confusion isn’t about the sexuality aspect. It’s not even necessarily about him being much older than me, which he is.
It’s about the fact that Ican’thave a crush on the Head Priest. He’s entirely unavailable, in many ways.
He’s not ours to lust over. He belongs to Mother, and to his wives, and that’s it.
Feeling only mildly defeated, I stomp up the steps into my trailer and lock the door behind me. I kick off my shoes, whip off my t-shirt, then step out of my pants, leaving things scattered everywhere as I head for the shower. I wash up quick, yet thorough, my brain rifling through the events of the day, and days past, wondering where the hell I went wrong, and how I became so fixated on a person I certainly shouldn’t be.
After the shower, I crawl into bed, yawning and tugging the sheet up to my chin. Moonlight shines through my window, and rather than finding myself gazing up at it in awe, it’s sort of pissing me off. Rolling onto my stomach, I cover my head with my pillow and close my eyes, trying to shove away the images of him from earlier.
His dark irises locked on me. That troubled expression I just couldn’t read. Even now, I haven’t the slightest clue what it meant.
His eyes are dark when he’s in need of solitude. But what does that have to do with me?
I can’t help but continue to wonder what he does in that room… alone. I’ve been wondering about it for a while. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall…
And now, behind my eyes, I’m in a room I vaguely recognize…
My stomach flips as my pulse thrums.The lounge.
I’m visualizing it. Conjuring up this little fantasy in my imagination. I know it’s wrong… I’m not supposed to be so curious about Head Priest’s personal life, but I am. I’m imagining what he might do alone in this room…
He could be in the bed. That big, giant bed with the fancy canopy. He could be lying in it like I am now… Covered only by a sheet. And maybe it would be shockingly low on his waist.
Biting my lip, I imagine my eyes sliding against my will down the length of hislongframe. Defined shoulders and chest, broad and sculpted, leading to abs that look like stones beneath what appears to be some very smooth skin… scattered in occasional ink.
I forgot about his tattoos…
