Page 30 of Eden's Deliverance

“Yeah, man. I actually think we might have broken her. Maybe it really is time to call the whole thing off.” When I give him a curious look, he says, “She’s going as a Pearl. We’re back to square one.”

Fuck.

“Well, you won’t catch me in a white mask, so don’t even think about it. I can still keep her on her toes.”

“And how do you expect to do that? You can’t exactly be caught sneaking a little baby Pearl off into the Red Room,” he scoffs.

“I’m not taking her anywhere, but you can bet she won’t be following anyone else either.”

There she is, dancing with Penelope under the chandelier, and I can’t take my eyes off her. I hate that her tits are bouncing right in front of my face, but I can’t bury my nose between them. I hate that she looks so fucking delicious in those leather pants and spiky heels. I hate that she makes me want to ruin her.

I hate that she made Julian cave in on himself.

He really hasn’t been himself since their last meeting. There’s no doubt in my mind he spit on her first, but she doesn’t know him. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve wanted to sock this kid over the years, but I just couldn’t. He needs a safe place, and I’ve always been that for him. No matter how much anger I’ve got inside me, I can’t take it out on him. We may bicker, call each other names, and have a row here and there, but I’d never hit him.

Scarlett, on the other hand…

Fuck, the way her body moves is hypnotic. When she asked, I implied that I don’t dance. But the moment I see some creepy fucker slotting up behind her, I’m ready to prove myself a liar.

I slip from the bar stool, two drinks in hand—a vodka on the rocks for me, a vodka cranberry for her—and make my way over to the girls. The frail, little Pearl man behind her only needs a rough jab from my elbow before he backs off and allows me to take his place.

This is where I belong…with my chest pressed against her back, my chin tucking into her neck with my lips on the side of her throat, and my arm around her waist—holding her so closely, the smell of her shampoo invades my nostrils.

“Did you miss me?” I whisper against the shell of her ear.

Penelope shoots me a glare over Scarlett’s shoulder when she stiffens, quickly realizing I’ve replaced her dance partner. I tighten my hold on her, making her sway with me to the rhythm of the music so she doesn’t cause a scene.

“Play with Fire” by Sam Tinnesz and Yacht Money blasts through the club speakers, the vibrations moving through my body and into hers. I’ve always loved that about heavy bass—the way I can actuallyfeelit inside me, flooding out all the shadows in my head until there’s no more hatred or sadness.

“No.” Her tone is dry and disgruntled, missing its usual airiness.

“I brought you a drink, here.” I try handing her the glass I’m holding with the arm that’s circling her waist, but Penelope snatches it from my fingers and downs it in a few seconds.Bitch.My now empty hand flattens on her stomach, pulling her further into my orbit. “Looks like you need to pick your friends better.”

She’s unaffected, and it’s pissing me off. “Looks like you need to do the same. You can go now.” She pushes her ass out and shoves me backwards, but I keep my grip firm. I’m not willing to break contact and interrupt the peace I just found in the conductivity of her body.

“Excuse me, miss. Is this guy bothering you?”

Who the fuck?

Over my shoulder, some dude in a white mask reaches out to touch her shoulder. Instinctually, I swat his hand away before I get a good look at his face, but then she turns and full-on slams into my chest with both her hands so I’m forced to stumble back.

“Yes, he is.” She looks up at me then, shaking with frustration. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want anything to do with you and your fucked up friend anymore. Just leave me alone.”

The man in the white mask takes her by the arm and leads her off, leaving me standing on the dance floor like a dumbfounded idiot.

Yeah, we definitely broke her.

I sit by myself at the bar for so long, I’ve lost count of how many drinks I’ve had. Scarlett hasn’t come back from the White Room with that prick, and I’m fucking beside myself about it.

Julian opted to stay home tonight, keeping to his stance on needing a break from her, and fuck…I wish I did too. The only real advice he left me with was to try and get her to drink more, but I don’t really see the point. It was a useless attempt anyway.

The one who really needs a drink—or seven—is me, because having to deepen and disguise my voice for her is fucking exhausting. My vocal cords feel like sandpaper, and it might be the worst part about trying to hide from her.

I wish I didn’t have to put on this fucking show and could just be myself, but she would never have me.

It was one thing to watch her disappear in the back rooms with Julian. At least then, I’d hear about everything that happened later. I might not like it, but I wouldn’t be left in the dark.

This guy is dangerous. I recognize him for the piece of shit he is, and I know he’s had her in his sights since her first night at Eden. It’s the same guy who took her back into the White Room after Julian left her crying—her white knight in shining fucking armor.

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