Page 112 of Hateful Prince

“What does that make you?”

“Your consorts.” He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to my hair before inhaling my scent.

“Mmm, I don’t hate the sound of that.”

The walk to the ballroom was over before I was ready, a crowd already gathered before the closed doors.

“I guess they want to have a dramatic reveal,” I muttered, clocking the servers with their trays of champagne and giving Tor’s arm a light tug so he’d head us in that direction.

Caspian snaked his way through the people and returned with an entire tray he’d pilfered, one flute for each of us balanced on top. “There you are, love. No need to seek them out. Your captain will always provide.”

I rolled my eyes but took a glass. He was delightfully campy today. Definitely feeling himself. If the alternative was him talking to people we couldn’t see, I’d take campy all day long.

“There she is. And of course you’re the belle of the fucking ball.” Oz’s voice was light and jovial as he came toward me, his smile broad. He was basically a human disco ball in a glittering blazer and matching loafers. My friend was accompanied by Bru, who looked so damn handsome I had a hard time tearing my eyes from him. I’d always seen Tor’s burly guard dressed in his work clothes, but this skinny black suit and white button-down look took him to another level.

Oz reached out and pulled me in for an embrace, black leather gloves on his hands surprising me.

“Gloves?”

He shrugged. “A precaution. Can’t risk an accidental mind violation, you know? Lots of people I’m not used to being around, alcohol, lowered inhibitions...”

“If it was that easy to prevent, why send you here?” I asked, perhaps naively.

“Because it’s not about prevention, sweets. This is punishment, remember?”

“His control is much better than it used to be, as well. If you recall, you were wearing gloves when you did what you did to get sent here. However much a punishment this is, you’ve also grown.” Bru snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Oz. “To you. The strongest man I know.”

“Aw, now I feel like a shit for shipping that creep Brian.”

Bruno rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “He never stood a chance. I wasn’t threatened.”

“Well, now that you’ve made an honest woman out of me, there’s no reason for my eyes to stray,” Oz gloated.

I clapped my hands. “You two are official? Like going steady? Oh my God, Bru, did you give him your ID bracelet?”

“What year do you think this is, 1957? Get out of here with your ID bracelets.” Oz was teasing, but I could tell how happy he was. How happy both of them were. “He gave me his signet ring, of course.”

Hades slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me out of Tor’s hold. My Viking only growled a little in response. “I’ll give you a ring if that’s what you want, baby doll. Just say the word.”

“Oh my God, it’s like she bathed in pheromones and they’re all going feral.” Sorcha’s voice from behind me had me both on edge and laughing. It was a strange dichotomy of emotions. She was just this side of too scary for me to get close to.

We turned to face her, my eyes widening slightly at how stunning she looked. Her dress was a long-sleeved, floor-length black velvet number, but it was far from demure. The skintight gown revealed as much as it concealed. She’d give Morticia Addams a run for her money with the deep cut of the neckline and the matching slit that ran to the top of her thigh. One wrong twitch of her shoulder, and it would be Tits Out for Christmas, for sure. Although Sorcha struck me as the kind of woman who could make even fabric cower in submission, so I wasn’t betting on any wardrobe malfunctions tonight.

“Wow, Sorcha. Way to leave some to the imagination,” Oz teased.

“She doesn’t need to do that. I know exactly what she looks like naked, and I prefer to see as much as possible.” Kit slid up behind her, weaving himself around her like a snake.

Sorcha bared her teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile. “I’m here. You’re welcome.”

“Yes, we’re so blessed to be in your presence,” Kai said, sarcasm thick in his tone.

“Glad we are all on the same page.”

A server brought her a special tray carrying a solitary champagne flute filled with a bubbling crimson liquid. She daintily took the offered glass and brought it to her nose for a delicate sniff.

“This donor was a fine vintage. I do love champagne.”

I cocked my head, a question on my lips, but she smiled and answered before I could ask.

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