Page 4 of Oblivion

Well, it’s fun right up to the point that I puke. But until then, it’s great.

We’re all at a party right now. It was supposed to be just a girls’ night out, but of course the guys couldn’t leave us alone for even one night, so they’re here. Sebastian is wrapped around Starling, making sure everyone knows she’s his, and Clay is dancing with his new wife, January, and whispering in her ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but judging by the look on her face, it’s something naughty.

Hunter is dancing with a girl I don’t know, and Evan is looking at me, the way he always does when we’re out like this. Lifting the drink in my hand up, I find the straw with my lips, and suck up the last of the liquid, trying not to cringe as the taste of vodka coats my mouth.

Usually, I drink Long Island Iced Teas at parties, because there’s enough juice for me to pretend it counteracts the alcohol.But when the guys showed up, I decided to go for something a little stronger.

I’m regretting it now that the trees around the dance floor seem to be bouncing in time with the music, and my heels feel extra wobbly as I make my way to the bar. I’ve been to several of these parties now, and there’s always a manned free bar, but I have no idea who plans them or who pays for all the booze we’re drinking.

My head is spinning by the time I curl my fingers around the edge of the counter, and I chuckle softly to myself as my equilibrium stabilizes and the world comes back into focus. At the back of my mind, I know I absolutely should not have any more drinks, but when the bartender looks at me, instead of asking for a soda, I ask for four shots of tequila instead.

“Really?” a rough familiar voice growls from behind me.

A full-body tremor ripples through me at the sound of his voice. Sober I might have been able to hide my reaction to him, but drunk, every defense I’ve built against his fake disinterest collapses to the floor.

When four shot glasses filled with gold liquor appear in front of me, I grab one, downing the contents to distract myself from the fact that Evan is behind me, so close I can feel his body heating my skin. So close, that there’s no way he’ll have missed the way I reacted to his voice. So close, that I can feel his hard dick that’s now pressing against my ass.

“You’ve had enough,” he chides, reaching around me to take the shot glasses.

“What do you want, Evan?” I ask.

“I’m trying to stop you from making a fool of yourself when you fall over drunk,” he hisses, his eyes bright with anger and something that I can’t quite decipher but that right now looks a lot like lust.

“I can do as I please, and if I want to drink until I puke, it’s none of your business.”

My body prickles with need when he curls his arm around my waist, pressing his chest against my back, his huge, hard cock pushing between my ass cheeks as he pins me to him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Wild One. Everything about you is my business.”

Like my entire soul is ready to admit defeat, I melt into his hold, desperate for him to keep me in place, to hold me exactly where he wants me to be.

“Evan.” His name on my lips is a pathetic whimper, but if this is the moment when we finally see if this connection I’m convinced we share is real, then it’ll be worth it.

But instead of kissing me or doing something—anything—he lifts one shot glass after the other and drinks the three tequilas in quick succession. Then he hands the bartenders a fold of bills. “She’s cut off. Serve her again, and I’ll make sure Oracle never hires you again.”

Both bartenders look at me, then at Evan, before they nod and leave to serve other people.

My spine goes ramrod straight, and I lean forward into the bar, pulling away from him until not an inch of us is touching. “You’re an asshole,” I hiss.

“Yes, I am,” he retorts, then turns and walks away.

4

EVAN

She’s drunk. Although in truth, I’ve seen her drunker.

Like that night in the woods when I pushed my hard dick into her ass and pinned her body against mine. That was the last time she looked at me with stars in her eyes. Since then, she only glares at me like I broke something in her, the same way we broke Starling.

Tonight though, the more she drank, the less she looked at me with hate, and the more I drank, the less important the reasons I’ve stayed away from her seem to be.

I knew the first time I met her that I felt something. Now I’m pretty sure I’m in love with Sammy Hartley. My dick is always hard for her. My chest aches when she walks away from me, and I feel violent when I see her with another guy. But more than all of that, I want her to be happy, and I love her enough to know that I’m not capable of that.

In my world, orchestrated matches are common and preferred by our social circle. Money breeds money, and marrying anyone below your own social stature is basically considered a cardinal sin. It’s rare for people to marry for love, and yet my parents weren’t the result of an arranged marriage. They met in college—although they vaguely knew each otherbefore—rejected their parents’ choices for each of them and got married instead.

My mom left a couple of weeks after I was born and never came back. Since I was old enough to hold a conversation, we speak once a year, roughly around the time of my birthday—but never on my actual birthday, because she can never remember when it is. When I was younger, I once decided to ask her why she left me behind instead of taking me with her when she left. She told me that she never wanted kids but agreed to have me because she felt pressured into providing my dad with an heir. She said the expectations that were piled on her by marrying a Morris were more than she could handle, and that when she left, she never even considered taking a child she didn’t want with her.

I think maybe I should have felt hurt by her words, but truthfully, her answer made sense to me, and I never missed having her around because she’d never been there in the first place. I had my dad, and Bastian, Clay, and Hunter’s parents who helped to raise all of us.

My entire life I’d known that my dad would pick a wife for me when I was older. My brothers were all told the same thing, and until Bastian saw Starling, none of us ever considered that there was anything wrong with having an arranged match.

---