Page 72 of Snake

Behind us, Jet announces, “Please clear the floor for your King and Queen!”

Eliza tugs on my hand, but I’m already fucking done. She yelps when I crush my fingers around hers and then barks out a protest when I drag her down the stairs. “Slow down!” she snaps. “I’m wearing six-inch heels, you heathen!”

“I hope you break your fucking legs.”

She lets out an indignant gasp that cuts off when I spin around and catch her around the waist. I’m bursting inside—fighting off an entire childhood’s worth of training about how to behave in a situation like this. Decorum battling the need to slap Eliza so fucking hard, she’ll see and hear stars.

The orchestra blasts out a tango, Jackson’s eyes going wide when our bodies thump together. We glide over the dance floor, her lips curving into a feline smile as we fall into an effortless pattern. “You still remember how to dance. I was worried you’d have forgotten.”

“Know what else I remember, Eliza?”

Her brown eyes crease at the corners.

“I remember what a fucking cunt you were after Amy went missing.” I spin her away from me and then yank her back. She grunts when our bodies collide, and more than a few people nearby gasp, clearly scandalized by our passionate display.

If only they knew how close I was to choking Eliza with my bare hands.

She tries to pull away, moaning when I dig my fingers into her flesh. I sweep her over the dance floor before she can pull free, double-timing the beat. She either has to keep up or risk landing on her ass in front of the entire town.

“Why the fuck did you do this?” I whisper furiously into her ear.

Her reply is quick, breathless. “Because we’re meant to be together, Mason. We were perfect. Everything was perfect. And then—”

“And then you fucked it up,” I cut in harshly.

We cross the dance floor in a graceful—if hurried—sweep. I can feel how unstable Eliza is on her heels, and it takes everything I have to stop myself from giving her the one hard shove she’ll need to topple over and break something.

Like her fucking skull.

I spin her again, grabbing her hips so hard at the end that she yelps in pain. There’s no longer cunning and spite in her eyes. I see only fear.

“You’re done fucking everything up, Eliza.” I lean in, ignoring the rise and the fall of the music and the way my feet want to follow it along another sweeping course over the dance floor. I hear concerned voices springing up nearby, but I’m done being the punchline to this joke. I grab Eliza’s chin, forcing her eyes up to mine. “You’re done playing puppeteer.”

“I’ll release Silas’s video to the faculty,” she says hurriedly. “If you don’t—”

“You won’t do anything, Eliza. You’re done.” I pull my hands away from her, step away. I can’t be close to her anymore, can’t inhale the toxic fumes wafting off her body. “I’m with Nim now, and there’s fuck all you can do about it. This ends tonight. Hear me?”

Eliza stares at me with sullen eyes.

“Do you hear me?” I yell.

The orchestra cuts off. The people around us are silent. I fill my lungs, and I know the entire town will talk about this for weeks. How I dared to yell at Eliza motherfucking Jackson...and right in front of the Harts.

But she opens her mouth before I can shout again. “You’re right. This ends tonight,” she whispers, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Her skirts flare out as she whirls around and pushes her way through the crowd encircling the dance floor.

There’s a moment’s utter silence, then the orchestra starts up again. They play something fast that sounds almost panicked, like someone instructed them to drown out the commotion.A few hesitant couples appear on the dance floor, but they keep looking over at me as they take up the tango.

I stalk off, not having to shove anyone out of my way because they fucking make way when they see me coming. I swipe the back of my hand over my forehead, letting out a furious growl when I see the ash smeared over my skin.

“Fucking pagan bullshit.”

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