Page 13 of Claimed By Rage

I’m drop-dead gorgeous in these fucking things.

I smile at whoever glances in my direction before realizing that I need to be selective. I don’t want justanyone’sattention—I need an alpha. Someone who threatens Rage’s self-proclaimed authority over me. But most importantly, it needs to be someone who simplyisn’t him.

I keep an eye out as I wander the room, familiarizing myself with not only the landscape, but the people as well. Part of me looks for my best friend Lilith, hoping for an anchor to keep me steady throughout the night, but deep down, I know that if I find her, I’ll have to steer clear. She has more questions than answers about how Rage and Rebel tag-teamed me in the middle of this very room at the last event, and I don’t want to give hermorefuel for her inevitable interrogation.

No, I can’t cling to what’s familiar and safe tonight. I need to be daring. I need to not only step out of my comfort zone, but leap way the hell over the line.

A stranger notices me from the side of the room, but I quickly turn away. I need to be the one taking initiative. I need to pick someone—anyone—that fits the agenda.

Someone who not only makes Rage mad, butreallypisses him the hell off. Someone who threatens Rage’s masculinity by simply existing.

I spin around to head back toward the bar when I stumble into someone, their cologne instantly washing over me. It’s a deep, woodsy scent—not too much alcohol, not too in-your-face, but just the right kind of scent that screams decent money.

One glance at his chiseled jawline and a quick squeeze of his bicep seals the deal. He’s the one.

I fake stumbling into him, square against his chest. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” I put on a small smile as he catches me, his hands falling to my waist.Bingo.“I wasn’t looking where I was going. Lost in the lights, and all.” I wind my fingers around the collar of his shirt and pull myself up, tugging him down closer to me at the same time. The crisp, white dress shirt with the first three—no, four—buttons undone, and an exposed triangle of tanned skin thatbegsto be touched makes this seduction even easier. Hewantsto be noticed. “Thank you for saving me.”

The surprise on his face quickly melts into charm. “It’s my pleasure, beautiful. Are you new here? It can be a lot to take in your first time.”

I’m not new, exactly, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s my first time,” I lie, biting my bottom lip. “I’m a little nervous.”

His hand wraps around mine and pulls it to his lips. I pray he gets a big whiff of my perfume—I put on a special pheromone blend for the night. If I can dance with this man, maybe kiss hima little, then Rage, Rebel, and Ruin can get an eyeful of what Beauty looks like when she’snottheirs to torment.

“Maybe I can help with that. Would you like to join me for the night? I can show you around, give you a tour.”

“That would be wonderful! Your date won’t mind?”

Doesn’t hurt to check if I have competition for his attention.

He shakes his head. “I’m all yours tonight. What’s your name?”

I introduce myself as Beauty, while he tells me his name is Goliath.

My laugh is genuine. “I can’t imagine what they were thinking, giving you that codename. I’m sure you know how the story goes. Goliath was taken out by a single stone. You don’t seem like you’d go down so easily.”

The curve to his lips mirrors the glint in his eye. A hint of wickedness that somehow feels like a promise. “Trust me, whoever decides the names for these events does their homework. I haven’t met a single person whose name didn’t fit.” He inclines his head toward me. “Yours is spot on, gorgeous.”

My chest tightens, my smile following suit. I know what he sees—I’m good at dolling myself up. I always have been. Perfect, silky hair flowing past my shoulders, the glint of diamonds catching in the light and bringing the eye to the tip of my cleavage. Long legs, high cheekbones, warm brown eyes highlighted with a stripe of glitter and smoke with a killer winged eyeliner—I’m a fucking package. I always have been, truth be told. I’m used to being beautiful.

I used to believe it, too, but now I’m not so sure.

The things we put on display can’t all be truths. Lies are woven throughout every image, every persona, because the truth is often much uglier that we ever want to admit.

Goliath gives me a charming smile that, once upon a time, would have made my knees go weak. But now, I see it for whatit is: another front,another lie.I understand it, because when I smile back, I’m doing the exact same.

Playing the game.

“Let’s get you a drink.” He leads me to the bar, where he downs a bourbon in record time, and I have a straight shot of vodka. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees me take the shot without flinching.

I have two more before the alcohol really kicks in.

“You’re good at that.”

Embarrassment makes me blush. “I’m Russian,” I explain, “vodka’s like water to us.”

“Russian, huh? I’d started to think that there were only Russian men in the city. I’ve yet to meet a Russian woman since I moved here.”

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