Page 82 of A Drop of Anguish
“I’m in too!” the redheaded fae chirps.
Truth or dare at an Elite party. This sounds like a terrible idea. “What if I’m not in?” I ask.
The two new-to-me Elite glare at me. Thompson nudges my arm. “She’s in.”
I sigh. I’m equal parts curious and dubious. But much like the shifter, I’m not going to be too afraid to bail if I feel uncomfortable.
“It’ll be good for you. Promise.”
Janet inches in closer and tugs my arm. “Hey, um… is it okay—”
I hold up my hands and smile. “Yes. Go. Tell Marcus I said hi.”
She throws her arms around me. “Thank you so much. This was—well, insane but an experience I’m glad I was special enough to earn.”
I pull back to look her in the eye. “This—” I wave around, “—does not make you special. You are incredible. This is all just luck.”
She blushes and shrugs. “Still. Not many people get invited to these. It’s exciting to be one of the few for at least one night.”
I kiss her on the cheek. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.” She looks over her shoulder to find Lola blushing and chatting with Stassi. “You coming, Lo?”
Lola freezes. “Uh, is it okay if it—”
“Yep. I’m totally okay with going alone.”
“A Janet-and-Marcus date.” I grin.
She smiles bashfully. “Keep an eye out for her, okay?”
I nod. “Of course.” One of the reasons Minor Hall students don’t generally go to upper-level parties isn’t entirely because of access. Sometimes, it’s literally just not safe. It would be easy for a powerful dickhead to invite a weak student just to prey on them. Most wouldn’t accept an invite even if it came their way. Janet and Lola had Jarron’s assurance of their protection, so it was a little different, but there’s still some risk.
Lola flutters into Janet’s chest. “Stassi and I will walk you out of Elite Hall.”
“Protector Stassi on duty!” He stands up straight, his face serious for only an instant before the grin spreads wide over his face.
“I’ll be back in a few,” Lola chirps to me, and those three make their way out of the room.
“Come on,” Thompson prompts me. My heart hammers, despite the relaxing potion swirling around in my mind, lightening every muscle. Well, almost every muscle.
The walk across the room feels like it takes a million years with the powerful prince’s eyes on me. His gaze is not quite as oppressive as his dark magic that fills the halls these days, but it lingers like a whisper over my shoulder, haunting each step.
It’s bitter and sweet. It’s terrible and beautiful.
It’s everything I want and everything I’m trying so damn hard to avoid.
Wanting Jarron is one thing, but knowing he wants me back and still resisting is something else entirely. Knowing that any female in this room could come on to him and he’d cast her away with the flick of his wrist and barely a glance in her direction, yet if I were to saunter over and sit on his lap…
I swallow. I don’t know what he’d do, and it’s a very, very bad idea to imagine it.
Is there a potion for forcing your mind not to wander? There are focusing potions, of course, but you can’t control what you focus on, and with my luck, I’d focus on him.
What I need is to stop picturing it. Stop imagining—an imagination restrictor.That sounds good. Maybe I’ll invent that potion for moments like this.
A flicker of silver light catches my attention in the corner next to Jarron’s bed. On the nightstand is something new. A silver knickknack I’ve never seen before. Jarron isn’t one for décor, so his tabletops are generally bare.
This bit of abstract art is uncharacteristic. I’m pulled toward it, my curiosity again getting the best of me. I stop a foot before the bedstand and blink as I realize what it is.
