Page 115 of For Dear Life

That said, curiosity nudges the desire forward, and as my mother needs three men to keep her satisfied, I may well inherit that lasciviousness. I did tell Rowan this, and he got a really weird look on his face and didn’t speak for a minute. Regardless, my mind’s elsewhere currently.

“Don’t mess with Violet’s hair,” says Grayson from behind me. “I presume this is Violet? Hard to tell, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t make out with anybody else.”

I spin around and his smile drops the way Rowan’s did when he first encountered my attire, apart from Grayson doesn’t leave his gaze on my face, instead taking a too slow look the length of me. “Wow. Like, wow, Violet.”

“If I’d known this plan would objectify me into a victim of the male gaze, I would’ve worn my jeans.”

“Hey, even I’m not in jeans.”

“Or a leather jacket.” I gesture at his black suit. “Although the attire is rather funereal.”

“Isn’t the academy’s misunderstood loner expected to wear black?” He arches a brow.

The well-cut suit ages-up Grayson too, hair pulled back more neatly than usual, but there’ll aways be an aura of danger around the predatory hemia, that’s somehow sharpened by his perfect form.

We’ve met once since our disturbingly intense meeting and neither of us mentioned what happened; Grayson back to his laconic behavior. I’ve considered his last actions before he left, at how close I was to letting go, but I couldn’t cope with looking at Grayson and seeing the worst of what I could be. I certainly can’t allow myself close to Grayson.

Not yet.

“I expected the same color scheme from you, Violet,” says Grayson. “But you look like the girl in the photograph.”

“Yes. Shame she had little taste.” Pulling away from Rowan, I continue my march towards the academy entrance where the wide, glittery banner proclaiming the Spring Ball stretches across the entrance, lined by tiny lights.

With Rowan at one shoulder and Grayson the other, I take a step into the large entrance hall, that already contains more people than I like to share breathing space with. The walls are draped with sheer blue fabric I assisted Holly in hanging, creating the desired ethereal ambiance amongst the translucent lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The witches naturally wanted a magical and enchanting ‘vibe’, but I suppose we’ll see how far the ‘vibe’ of unity works in tonight’s celebrations.

The group ahead of me drops into silence as a navy blue-suited Logan double takes then laughs falsely and loudly.

“Pretending to be normal for the night, Violet?” he asks. “You’re not fooling anybody.”

I blink slowly and ignore him, quietly scanning faces to see if anybody focuses on my tiara.

“Nice crown. Think you’re queen or something?” asks Raul.

“I am not the only person here with bejeweled hair, and certainly not the nicest.” I gesture at one of the only vampires that ever bothers to speak to me, and their more subtle diamanté headpiece. “Lukas, for example.”

“Let’s go, Violet,” says Rowan, and curls his fingers around mine as Logan steps forward. Grayson edges between us and I pull him back.

“I don’t need bodyguards.” I sidestep and pause briefly as I pass Logan. Voice lowered, I add, “I’m still wearing my boots that could kick you into next week, Logan.”

Standing in the hallway under lights and scrutiny suddenly seems like a better idea once I step into the main hall. The mesmerizing blue wonderland continues, tiny incandescent witch lights floating above a floor where a water pattern swirls. I’m unsure why the ocean theme as that doesn’t seem pertinent to the academy or any of the student houses, but perhaps that’s the point.

I hadn’t considered the assault on my ears from the band playing on stage beneath a shell-filled net backdrop in the corner, and although I appreciate the softer light from the floating illumination, this makes the room too dim for any individual to stand out.

“Before the question is asked, I will not be dancing,” I inform Rowan and Grayson, and stalk towards a long table, draped in the table runner that took Holly so long to choose. Beside flickering candles, one of the committee sprinkled the tiny silver and blue shell confetti around platters holding unidentifiable tiny morsels of food and clear jugs of blue and green liquid.

As my companions are as unpopular as I am, nobody bothers to speak to us, and Grayson rests his back against the table, holding a glass as Rowan takes one and passes another to me. Yet more shells etch the edges—I saw these in the store that day with Holly. The day I discovered Leif’s arrest.

“What’s this?” I sniff the contents.

“Non-alcoholic,” says Rowan. “The alcohol will be shared outside.”

“Good.” But I place down the cup, anyway. “I need to walk around. Where are the professors?”

Grayson sips and pulls a face. “Ugh, that’s sweet.”

“Not bloody enough?” asks a girl with the sleekest brown hair beside him.

A group of girls—human—chose to co-ordinate their outfits—long formal dresses in the same cobalt color, strapless, and taffeta skirts touching their impossibly high shoes. Another girl giggles and nudges her. “Sienna!”

---