Page 40 of Savage Hope

That's extreme, but it feels like the best time of my life until my feet start to ache. I'm certain I can't shake my ass any longer. Prying my eyes open, I find Bryony dancing with the guy who invited her to the party earlier.

I wave a hand at her and she peers at me. “I’m going to find somewhere to sit,” I holler, and she moves to step away from the guy, but I wave my hand frantically. “Stay. I just need to sit,” I insist before working my way through the sea of people once again.

I take a deep breath when I'm in a less crowded space and find the closest spot to sit. It's a fallen tree trunk, but it will do. Resting my elbows on my knees, I catch my breath as I watch the party unravel around me. Sweat beads at my forehead, sticking my hair to the back of my neck, but I can’t fight the smile on my face.

It's freeing.

There's no stress out here, no issues, no inter-faction treachery.

Watching everybody mingle, dance, and have fun with one another is amazing, especially when I can’t tell who is who because everyone is simply connected.

One word and my heart clenches.

Connected.

Everybody here has someone they're connected with on another level, like no one else. Everybody here faces the death penalty by the time we turn twenty-two at the hands ofsomebody else here, present right now. At this time, in two years, only half of us will remain.

That thought alone is sobering, but my brooding is halted as a guy sits down beside me.

“Hey, baby,” he purrs, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “I don't like a girl like you looking so lonely. Why don't you join me in this beer?” His eyes are blown wide, a bottle extended my way, but I'm already shaking my head.

The fact doesn't seem to matter, though; he's still nudging the bottle into my hands.

Retreating as best as I can, I clear my throat. “I’m good, but thanks,” I insist, hoping he'll take the hint. Instead, he drops his hand from my shoulder to the small of my back, running his fingers over my bare skin.

My hands curl into fists in my lap.

Is this a cunt like Bryony was talking about earlier?

Turning back to him, I keep my facial expressions neutral. “No, thank you,” I state proudly, the words firm, but instead of removing his hand like I'm expecting, his fingers creep higher.

“Remove your hand from me, or I'll do it for you,” I state, anger coiling through my veins like I’ve never felt before, but it only brings a smirk to his lips.

I have no idea where I just found the strength to stand my ground, and all he does is…smirk?

“Baby, I'm a vampire. I could lean in close and compel you to give me exactly what I want, and you'd have no say in it otherwise. Now, I don’t mind how you take it, but I always prefer my subject willing.”

My heart races in my chest. Bryony didn't mention this part when she described this kind of guy earlier. My eyes rake over him, figuring out where his weak points may be for me to attempt to hit him and run. With every second that passes, I become more and more aware of how naïve I am to even think Icould manage that, when a hand lands on my arm, tugging me to my feet.

“There you are, Midnight. I've been looking all over for you.” Lips press against my temple, stealing my breath as my skin heats.

The guy beside me quickly fumbles to his feet, panic washing over his features. “My bad, Linc. My bad. No harm, yeah?” the guy says, stumbling back a step as I'm locked in place, going from the embrace of one man to another, completely out of my comfort zone, as the new voice beside me grows darker.

“Yeah, your bad, man. Now fuck off.”

17

LINCOLN

Ihave no idea what I'm doing right now. I'm just drawn to the beacon in the night. I don’t know how I missed the new girl transferring here; she must have blended in with the arrival of the kids from Florentine’s. It’s a damn shame I’m only just seeing her now, but hopefully, she's not too disappointed in having to wait for my attention. I'm about to steamroll her and make up for it; I just need Dean to get his damn hands off her.

I was so enraptured in watching her dance that I was still staring at her as she drifted from the crowd and found a seat on the fallen tree. Her hair floated around her shoulders as she swayed to the music, lost in her own world, and that bubble she thrives in stayed wrapped around her. When she slipped over here, hiding from the sound of the party, I got an honest look at her.

Her hair, her eyes, her silky skin.

She reminds me of midnight, when the sky is at its darkest shade of blue-black, with the moon bright in the sky and the stars sparkling like a glimmer in the distance.

Her hair is the sky, her face the moon, and her eyes the stars.

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