Page 60 of Break Her Heart
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Another party. Another show. August had kept his distance since last night, walking a fine line between fury and restraint. I could feel it in every clipped word, every time he looked away too quickly. He was barely holding on to his control. And I wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
The dress Jane brought me this time was nearly translucent, a whisper of silver silk that shimmered like starlight and sin. It clung to every curve, sleeveless and scandalously low across my chest, dipping even lower at my back. The fabric pooled at my feet in a way that made each step deliberate, regal. I never would’ve chosen it for myself.
But I wore it.
And I loved it.
I caught my reflection as we descended the staircase. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. She looked like she belonged here. Not a prisoner. Not a pawn. A queen carved from defiance.
When I looked up as we walked through the great room, I saw how they watched me. Not just with wariness.
But with want.
Their eyes clung to me, sliding over bare skin like hands. Fear still lingered—good—but now there was hunger in it too. A shift. A recognition that I was not just dangerous.
I was desirable.
One vampire leaned to another and muttered something with a grin. Another tipped his glass to me, and I didn’t look away. August walked beside me like a thundercloud, his silence louder than anything. The tension rolled off him in waves, and every time someone stared too long at me, I felt it spike higher.
That was the part I liked best.
We ascended to the thrones as the great room pulsed beneath us, music rising like a heartbeat. Dancers twirled, laughter cut sharp through the air.
Then Simon appeared.
He was the first of the siblings to approach us during one of these displays. He bowed low in exaggerated fashion, holding a goblet out to me. His grin was too white, too easy.
“For the queen.”
I didn’t move right away. My eyes slid to August.
He didn’t even glance my way. Just sipped his wine and said, “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try something. Drink.”
That told me everything I needed to know. He was watching, even if he wasn’t looking. And he hated this. I took the goblet. It was chilled and heavy in my hand. The liquid inside caught the light like garnet—deep red wine that smelled of dark berries and spice, rich and heady.
Simon lingered, gaze flicking to August, then back to me. I took a sip. It was good.
“Would you like to dance, my queen?”
August stiffened beside me, his jaw flexing. “I don—”
“Yes, I’d love to,” I said quickly, rising before he could finish.
I took Simon’s hand. I would’ve turned him down if it weren’t for August trying to answer for me. But now? Now that I knew his indifference was an act? I wanted him to watch.
We danced. And drank. Simon spun me until the room blurred, handed me drink after drink until the edges softened. I laughed once—maybe too loudly—but I didn’t care. For a little while, I forgot what surrounded me. Monsters in beautiful clothes. Danger disguised as delight.
And above it all, August watched. Burning.
18
August
Fucking Simon!
I knew he loved to play his games and tonight it was how drunk he could get the queen. And she let him. I’d never seen her so carefree. Ever since we got here, she had been tense, calculating, apprehensive toward everyone. The type that would never let me near her. Just as she needed to be.
