Page 82 of The Reign of Blood

“I’m a handful. That’s what I do, remember? I’ll make my own way home,” she grumbles, and my defenses rise at her dismissal.

“Suit yourself,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat.

“Don’t bother following me,” she hollers over her shoulder, and I scoff.

“You can’t stop me.”

Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

I’m Raiden fucking Holloway. I get what I want, when I want, and if I want that to include her, it fucking will.

31

ADRIANNA

Iadjust the straps on my dress, my mind elsewhere as Flora helps secure the fastening on the back. Apart from getting ready for hours, I’ve spent the day reeling over yesterday with Raiden.

He saw my sisterandmy father. No one has come barreling toward me demanding further details, so I can only assume he’s kept his mouth shut. It’s all I can hope for, but I don’t like the idea of being indebted to him.

After I left the restaurant yesterday, he followed me back to the academy every step of the way, but this time I knew he was there. I just had the strength to pretend he wasn’t, which felt like an achievement all on its own.

Flora meets my gaze in the mirror, pulling me from my thoughts as I run my hands over the tulle.

“Stop touching it. It’s making you look nervous,” she states with a pointed look, and I roll my eyes.

“Iamnervous.”

“Do you want them to know that?”

I don’t know who she means bythem, but the answer is still the same. “Obviously not.”

“Then stop,” she retorts, taking a seat at the foot of her bed to put on her heels.

“Easy for you to say,” I grumble, turning from side to side in the mirror as my hands touch my dress again, but I manage to stop myself, balling them into fists at my side.

“Not really. I’m about to spend the entire night with my mother fawning all over Arlo’s father.”

“Ew.”

She looks at me with a soft smile. “Yeah, ew.”

“Maybe you should talk to Arlo about?—”

“Nope. No way,” she interjects, jumping to her feet with her heels now secured.

“But—”

“No, Addi,” she says with a sigh, giving me another pointed look, and I hold my hands up in surrender.

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, exhaling as her shoulders relax.

“But I’m just saying if he doesn’t realize how stunning you are in that dress tonight, then he’s dumb. Likedumbdumb,” I point out, and she rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the gleam of excitement.

Her dress is red, deep crimson, accentuating her auburn curls and making her skin look like porcelain. It swoops down between her breasts and clings to her body in what she explained as a mermaid style, revealing her curves before flaring out at her knees.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear the heels?” she asks for the fifth time, glancing to where I discarded them.

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