Page 106 of A Taste of Torment
Jarron places a hand on Laithe’s shoulder. “Guard her with your fucking life, you understand?”
Laithe bows his head. “Of course.”
Jarron marches away from the table and disappears into the crowd. I bite the inside of my lip, mind spinning through too much.
It’s real. Somehow… somehow this became real.
“It’s for the best,” Stassi says. “You two need time apart or you’ll be humping on the table in a few minutes.”
Laithe doesn’t react but for an amused smile.
People still chatter and move about the room, and I try my best not to focus on any of it. I watch the dancing flames of the magical centerpiece, and I notice images, barely discernable, in the licks of fire. Couples dancing, a woman’s skirt soaring.
“Well, if you wanted to avoid more attention,” Laithe murmurs, “you failed on that front.”
“I suppose so.” I can feel so many eyes on my back, but I refuse to turn. I refuse to give any attention to it.
“Why would she want to avoid attention?” Stassi asks.
I roll my eyes. “Of course a wolf wouldn’t understand that one.”
He shrugs. “You bet I don’t understand embarrassment after dry humping a super-hot prince of an entire world. That just solidified your place here in a way nothing but a mark could have.”
Ugh, not more marking talk. “What if that’s not what I wanted?” I whisper.
I want Jarron, that’s something I’ve got to come to grips with. But the power moves and attention? Am I ready for all of that?
Stassi laughs. “You might not be prepared for it, but you want it. Bad.”
I bite the inside of my lip. Maybe he’s right.
“Maybe I just don’t want it like this,” I say. Because that is true. I don’t want to be recognized as the girl on Jarron’s arm.
I want them all to remember my name because of something I’ve achieved, not who I’m kissing.
37
Who Knew Demon Princes Could be Submissive?
Jarronand I are quiet as we walk through the dark hall toward his room. He’d been calm for the remaining hour we stayed at the event. We sat at the table with Stassi cracking jokes and Laithe being broody and otherworldly as usual. Jarron’s parents joined us and acted casually cordial, with zero comments or judging glances about our moment in the corner.
The only hint that I hadn’t imagined the whole damn thing was Jarron’s fingers finding my thigh beneath the table, drawing little circles over my dress. Even as we chatted like nothing was unusual.
As if I wasn’t burning from the inside out.
Now, it feels surprisingly awkward between us, probably mostly my fault because I’m honestly freaking the hell out. I can’t leave this night where we are, and so, I’d agreed to go back to his room, but what does that mean? What does any of this mean?
I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Are you all right?” he whispers, his hand lingering on the handle of his door.
I nod tightly.
“You sure? ’Cause you look like you may pass out.”
I bark out an awkward laugh. “I may not be far from that.”
He pulls his hand back from the door. “We don’t have to—”
