Page 74 of The Pirate Queen of Ruin
The number of times I have been near those pretentious cretins before Delphini, I could count on one hand. And each time was on my own accord, without the need to dress up in these ridiculous and impractical clothes. Since she has come into my life, I have been thrust into a caste of society I had left behind. It’s not enjoyable seeing how little it has changed, despite humanity’s advancing in other places.
“Lottie’s texted.” She smiles, looking down at the phone I bought for her this week after much demanding. “Our names are on the list. Marcus and co. are on the look out for Darren, and Miles hasn’t arrived yet.”
It should be a great comfort to have one of us on hand, someone who understands the importance of what has to be done. But I need to prove to Delphini that I will not fail her. Every step I have been stumbling after her, rather than guiding her like I have done for centuries. Already, Lottie has proved to be a much more useful asset in my human’s revenge.
The shifting of silk draws my attention back to where it matters.
“Are you jealous?” Delphini asks.
I left out a breath, “That isn’t- it isn’t that exactly. I want to be good for you, to prove to you I am useful, too.”
“I don’t want you to be useful.” She shrugs. “This might be shitty, but leveraging Lottie was always my end goal. She’s my friend, I will keep her secrets and respect her till she has proven herself unworthy of it, but our relationship has always been business first to me.”
My fists clench and the tentacles under my skin curl up in what I can only decide is shame. What am I supposed to do then?
“Our relationship isn’t business, Orthia. You want to be good for me? Keep trusting me.” Her voice lowers and she leans across the seat until her forehead touches my temple. “Love me like I love you.”
My head nods along because there is nothing I can say to this. Tears threaten to spill as the warmth of her touch and her words sink into me. I have done nothing deserving of love, but Delphini has given me hers. For as long as it takes, I will prove to her that I can keep it safe. That I will worship her and treat her like the goddess she truly is.
The car pulls up to the club and I quickly get out to open her door before I make the mistake of trying to fill the void in conversation with nonsense. Delphini takes my offered hand and now the show begins. We walk up to the podium where a man holding a tablet is checking in guests.
“Orthia Moore,” I tell him, completely ignoring his greeting to us. Every muscle in my body is begging me to check my scarf, make sure the black silk is still in place. My hands tremble as I wait for him to scroll through the stupidly long list.
“Of course, there you are and your guest…” His voice trails off as he looks at Delphini and I glare at him. He clears his throat. “Perfect, just pass through security and enjoy your evening.”
I blanch at the mention of security. Why the fuck does a charity gala for rich fucks need security at check-in? Who is trying to bust into this crowd? Delphini leads us to the man and woman doing visual pat downs and bag searches. This is not something I agreed to. For a brief moment in the back of my head, I feel the rumbling of Love’s presence, a touch of comfort before they slither back to her for the night we have planned.
My wife squeezes my hand hard before letting go and walking ahead of me. She already has her small clutch open and the guard lets her breeze by. I swallow hard and step up. The weight of two daggers at my side, leather harness cutting into my shoulder—
“Do you have any bags?” She asks, barely sparing me a glance.
“No.”
“Have a nice night.”
Once we are inside, seats are located, and then we are abandoned to head for the bar. Delphini whispers to me, “Easy peasy.”
Yes, step one of a million has gone successfully, but the large reception hall is packed with people. Some wander around to look at displayed auction items while others gossip about fuck knows what. On the far side of the room is a stage set up with a podium next to it. This is going to be a fucking challenge.
My nerves are on high alert, blood pounding in my ears so hard I’m on the right course for a splitting headache. Even through two layers of clothing, every stray brush of a stranger sends a shiver down my spine. This is the last place I would ever want to be willingly.
“Teddy Bushwhipper, I have told you a thousand times, there is no-”
That pretentious sandbag.
Augustine Ravenscroft’s voice stands out amongst the others who are loitering about. At his side is a plump, mousy woman about Delphini’s age, holding an espresso martini with both hands while she listens to the two men in front of her have an argument about Gwenmore history. She smiles the more riled up Augustine becomes.
It shouldn’t surprise me that we both abandon the bar to head towards the group, yet I am. Delphini loops her arm gracefully through Bushwhipper’s and completely halts whatever rebuttal was about to spew from his lips. I shove myself in front of both of them, ignoring the gasp and instant chatter that starts behind me. A sneer settles on my lips as I prepare to enact a part of a plan that I did not expect to encounter tonight.
Another thing to add stress to this evening.
Augustine rolls his eyes at me, but a slip of the blasted sand still winds its way from his hand to hers.
“Orthia, may I introduce my mate, Joanna.”
Her grip shifts on her glass and she offers me a sandless hand to shake. I ignore it. I can’t handle the chill right now. Beneath the surface of my skin I can feel my tentacles writhing, begging me to let them out and fight. Any action, anything to gain some control of this situation.
“I love your work,” Joanna says, pulling her hand back and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I went through a real pirate phase when I was a kid, and my Mimi took me on your tour after I begged her for a whole school year and-.”
