Page 70 of All Saints: Pledge

“Well, you look amazing,” Clara says.

“Thanks, you too.”

“I suppose it’s about time.”

I look around for a clock or a watch. “Yeah, probably.” I stifle a yawn. “I might need another Red Bull.”

“Miss Helena?” The voice is Aoife’s. “Miss Clara?”

“In here,” I respond, popping my head around the corner.

“Your escorts are here.”

Clara and I exchange looks. “Sounds good,” I tell Aoife. I feel a true moment of panic. What am I doing?

And then my eye falls on the white flower on my desk. Now propped up into a simple glass of water, it seems…friendly. A reminder that amidst all of this shit, there’s some sweetness.

On impulse, I pick up up, and stab a bobby pin through it. I press it into the top of the French twist on my head, and then pull open the door.

I’m expecting Kendall, but the hazel eyes I find belong to Teague.

31

“Why are you an escort? I thought you were one of us…” I try to wave around to Clara and I, but can’t because my hand is anchored around Teague’s very solid arm. And it needs to stay there. Managing these stairs in heels is a life-threatening undertaking, and I have his arm in a double death grip.

“Not an initiate this year, no,” he says, eyes resolutely ahead so that we don’t perish. Behind us, I hear Clara’s heelsthunk thunking at regular, careful intervals too. Just in front of us, two girls round the bottom of the stairs and head toward the back of the main level. Each of them has a man in a tuxedo on their arm.

“So your job is to…”

“Escort you around tonight.”

I risk a look up at him. Not just to escort me to somewhere,but around all night?

He gives a small smile. “An auction.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you know this, but I am broke. An auction at an estate in Ireland isn’t in my purview.”

Teague laughs. “Oh, had a lot of experience with private auctions?”

I rise to the joke, like he’s tossed me a lifeline. It breaks through all the surface tension I’ve been operating under since coming to Oxford. “Sure. In fact, the very last private auction I attended, I spent so much money my accountant barred me from ever taking part in fancy private auctions, ever again. It’s really because I have too much money. I wouldn’t want anyone else to feel badly.”

There’s an amused quirk to his gorgeous lips that I stare at long enough I cause myself to trip. He steadies my arm. “You are a guest of distinction tonight. If you hadn’t realized, you are wearing someveryfancy jewelry.”

“This old thing? I found it at the bottom of my sock drawer.”

My irreverence charms him. He gives a low chuckle, warm and rich, that makes gooseflesh break out on my arms. “Yes, well, lucky you found it. That sock drawer item is up for auction tonight. It’s actually my job to escortitaround.”

Realization dawns. “I’m a walking jewelry box for the night?”

“Essentially.”

It’s a weight off my shoulders for a moment. “Wait. Why wouldn’t they just have things on display?”

Teague looks down at me and I’m lost in the whiskey depths of those eyes. This time I do trip, and his arm reaches out to steady me without breaking eye contact. “Our bidders like to see the jewelry being worn. Sometimes people admire the…setting…as much as the jewels.”

His eyes scrape the diamond band on my throat. I swear he’s looking at the slight hollow between my clavicle as if he wants to bite me there. My breathing comes faster and good God, I think I’d let him.

“Alright there?” Clara asks from several stairs up.

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