Page 45 of Fated for his Flame

“Hey,” Chloe said, patting my arm and leaning her head against my shoulder. “It’s okay. I know how you’re feeling.”

I looked down at her. “You do?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re hurt. Feeling let down. He should be someone showing you how to do things right. Instead, he’s failing you.”

Her voice was tight. I nodded, wondering what had happened to her.

“Yeah,” she said, eyes going distant for a moment. “It sucks. But you can do better. You will do better. Already are as far as I’m concerned.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it.” She squeezed hard. “As far as I can tell, you’re a good person, Silas. Don’t lose sight of that.”

We moved up as the couple in front of us were announced.

“I’ll try. Now, are you ready?”

“No,” she said, the unease returning as she stared straight ahead, far too rigid. “But let’s do this anyway. I’ll just hope people won’t notice if I misstep.”

“They won’t,” I said as the door opened again.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I said as the doorman stepped through and announced us. “They’ll be too busy staring at your tits.”

Chloe let out a strangled noise of shock and anger as we stepped through the door and into the ballroom.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chloe

“Remember,” Silas said as we entered the room of bright lights and watching eyes. “Stay strong. Don’t take shit from anyone.”

“I know,” I said. “Stand up for myself.”

“They’ll respect you more for it.”

“Until someone slaps me and breaks my jaw, or my neck because I’m not one of you,” I pointed out, speaking out of the corner of my mouth while surveying the room.

We’d entered into the middle of the crowd. Silas told me to expect those nearest us to turn and acknowledge our presence, but otherwise, most of the guests would go about their business.

He was wrong. Dead wrong.

Every single head in the room turned to face us.

“What’s going on?” I murmured as softly as possible as all background conversation died out, replaced by hooded glances and quiet whispers. The six-piece live band continued to play, but even they faltered slightly.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, walking forward with a purpose.

Thankful for his confidence, I latched firmly onto his arm and walked with him. The crowd parted ahead of us, pulling back to reveal a long, narrow path that ended at a small dais, upon which sat the sovereign.

“I guess we go to her now?” I asked, forcing a smile on my face.

“It can’t hurt.”

We walked across the room. I tried to pretend I wasn’t the focus of ninety percent of the looks. Many of them unfriendly. At one point, Caleb and Shi appeared at the edge of the line. Shi met my face and smiled, nodding slowly, a show of support among the sea of hostility.

We were twenty yards away from the sovereign when several other figures shouldered their way to the front, each with loaded glares. I recognized Caine and Seth and assumed the much younger male closest to me was Isaak, the other son.

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