Page 238 of Cursed Evermore
“I mean, the throne requires compromises.” Dreynthor's grip on my hand and waist tightened just a fraction. “It requires strategic alliances that serve the greater good of the realm. So, don't get too comfortable in his bed. And don't expectanythingfrom Wolfe Nightblade. He cannot give you what you want. In the end, you will simply become something to fuck and toss to the side.”
My blood turned to ice, and my veins became cold and heavy like steel. I'd never had anyone speak to me in such a crude manner.
Something to fuck and toss to the side.Even a whore would take offense to that.
The ballroom seemed to tilt around me. I stumbled slightly, my feet missing the rhythm of the waltz. Dreynthor steadied me, but it was clear from the satisfied smirk on his stony face that my shaken state amused him.
“Oh, no, my dear. How thoughtless of me. Did I upset you?” His tone was mockingly sympathetic.
“Not at all, Your Grace.”
“I can see you're being modest again. I commend you, but you need to understand who my nephew is. Wolfe is the Prince of Galaythia. Heir to the throne. He has responsibilities and legacies to uphold. He can't afford to indulge in fleeting attractions with low-class girls like you.”
Those words cut even deeper, striking my heart. I could barely breathe.
There was nothing I could say to defend myself or refute him. This asshole was absolutely vile and evil. But... he was right.
The final notes of the violin hung in the air like a dying breath. Dreynthor was about to lead me into another dance, but a familiar presence appeared at our side.
Wolfe.
“Uncle.” Wolfe's voice was dangerously sharp, as piercing as his stare. “Your time is up.”
“I was about to?—”
“Yourtimeis up.” Wolfe spoke with deadly authority, and I could see from the sternness in his expression he knew I was upset. “Move.”
A jolt of shock ran through me at the steel in his voice. The sheer force of Wolfe's presence made the air around us crackle with danger to the point that people nearby looked on with curious stares and whispers.
The last time I'd seen Wolfe get so worked up was with Garrick. It was on the day I flew Hedion. Before that, he'd gotten pissed off about Garrick tending to my wound when the spell failed.
But he'd never sounded like this. Wolfe's command to Dreynthor was lethal, dripping with cutting authority that didn't give a damn who it was aimed at.
Dreynthor's eyes flickered, cold menace lurking in his expression like a thief in the dark. His grip on my hand lingered a moment too long before he finally let me go.
“Of course, nephew.” He turned to me with a flat smile. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I hope you'll think about my words of wisdom.”
My stomach churned, and my chest hollowed as if his cruelty had carved out pieces of my soul.
What a truly, truly vile man. My heart might have leapt with the relief of being rescued, but Dreynthor's cutting words burned through my veins like acid.
Low class. Fleeting attraction. Something to fuck and toss aside.That's the wisdom I was supposed to think about?
Fucking asshole.
Even though I thought there was some element of truth to his 'wisdom', I wanted to tell him to go to the worst of the hells and fuck himself, but I bit my tongue. Gods, I held back every word and tried to bridle my rage.
Dreynthor sauntered away with that menacing smile still pasted on his lips.
Wolfe stepped closer and took my trembling hand into his. His reassuring touch and warmth drew my attention away from Dreynthor's retreating form and back to him.
With his gaze locked on mine, Wolfe pulled me closer. “Dance with me.”
I pressed my hand to his chest, and he slipped his free arm around my waist, chasing away the chill that Dreynthor left behind.
The orchestra started playing a new piece. It was slower and intimate. We began to dance.
Us, dancing. I could hardly believe it.
