Her furious eyes meet mine, look over my shoulder, and then land back on me.
“Don’t come any closer.”
For a moment, I think she’s talking to me, but her gaze jerks to a spot over my shoulder again and gets cold and hard.
I can’t get the words out. I can’t even think past the need to have her. She doesn’t understand, but Sven sees me and whispers something to Lukas.
My fingers tighten around her arm, drawing her attention back to me. For a moment, it’s just us, and I read into everything I can, using every sense that I have.
I yank her closer and press our lips together. Her arms wrap around my neck, holding me tight. Our tongues duel. Coconut is every-fucking-where, just like it should be.
I pull back from her; the insanity sated for a minute. “Happy birthday, Nyx.”
Her eyes widen and then narrow. She wrenches her arm free and whirls, her hair fanning out behind her, and then the crowd has swallowed her, and she’s gone as if she was never there.
I close my fist to preserve the feeling of her skin on mine. My anger has taken a bitter, sour taste in my mouth.
I stand there in that crowded nightclub and realise that I'm barely in control anymore. I need her. I'm hurt and all I want is her back, and if I don’t do something about it soon, I might just take her.
She is mine.
In the same way that Dylan is mine.
Her walking away from me, walking out of my life, is only tolerated because he needs me. I soothe my inner self and promise that, soon, I will take her. Soon, I will chase her down. And it’s a promise I intend to keep.
But I push the unsettled feeling aside and focus on the pain in the pack bonds. I have priorities and responsibilities, and the beta made her choice. For tonight.
Tomorrow, all bets are off.
thirty-six
Silas
Only Hazel would organise a masquerade. I lean over the rails, watching the crowd of people hidden behind their glittering costumes and their masks. The drinks are flowing, the live band is a hit, the food is being delivered on white and red platters by men wearing card costumes.
I put the fingers of my left hand against my eyes.
“Is this a thing with you, Waters?” I ask. “This Alice gimmick?”
“It’s kinda cool, actually,” Grayson says and leans on the rail beside me. “Hazel has set herself up as Alice.” He points, and I see her. The sexy blue dress that does somehow also convey innocence also somehow implies Alice. The long blonde wig is the finishing touch. Despite looking somewhat daring, she still manages to do it with class.
“I would have pegged her for the queen of hearts,” I say and twist around, taking a champagne from a passing Ace of Spades.
Grey snorts, and when I turn, I find a cat-like mask on his face, he smirks and turns, flashing me his tail.
I roll my eyes and put the tall hat on my head.
He’d bullied us all into dressing up. He’s the Cheshire cat. I'm the Mad hatter. Falcon is the caterpillar.
And Dylan is wearing a waistcoat with a pocket watch and two very long white ears. He looks adorable and really unhappy.
I spot princesses and queens, monsters and myths. Characters from stories. It’s actually a really fantastic turnout.
The doors open, and someone walks in that makes my heart pound. I stand up and stare down, unable to believe my eyes. I’d recognise her in a million masks, in a million different rooms, in the dark, in the light.
She’s in a suit of black with red pinstripes. She’s not wearing a shirt, and the jacket shows a huge amount of skin as it dips down to just above her navel. The flare of her hips, the long black hair braided with red roses, the black mesh masque with its gold roses, and her crimson lips.
It can’t hide her.