Page 10 of Prince of Envy

Once he pushed me into the bathroom and I realized he was solid, a wall of fear had hit me. Was he there to take me away—or worse, hurt someone? The mixture of emotions that slammed into me when he appeared sent me into momentary shock and disbelief. I’d almost convinced myself that I was obsessing over him like a preteen over a floppy-haired boy band singer because I hadn’t been able to stop picturing him. I had been sure that the electricity I felt when he’d touched me that first night had been an over exaggeration.

I was wrong. The empty feeling in my gut was proof of that.

I knew it would be easy to let him take anything he desired from me. That was what scared me the most. I’d never let anyone break through the layers of lead walls I’d created for myself. I’d decided long ago that nothing would get between me and my goals. I’d seen too many of my friends let men derail them, all for someone presenting them with a precious stone and a promise to support them forever.

A lifelong partner was never something I planned for. Dating Duncan staved off the loneliness, and he understood what it was like to be in a competitive program and the dedication I had to our field.

Or so I’d thought.

I was so angry at Duncan for making a choice outside the parameters we’d established on a whim.

If Duncan wanted to leave Columbia University, then he was welcome to do so. Parting ways so we could pursue our individual goals was perfectly logical.

What had been eating at me the most was the undeniable sentiment that his dreams were more important than mine and that I should value his career over my own.

There was a difference between knowing what was best for me—and ultimately for Duncan—and actually going through with it.

I didn’t want to argue with him while he was drunk, but my mind was set. I was going to break things off with Duncan . . . without demonic interference.

I glanced around the dimly lit bathroom one more time then headed back to the dance floor. Duncan was exactly where I left him. Except instead of dancing in a group of other drunk college students, he had found some girl. Her ass was grinding on his crotch while his hands traveled over her hips, thighs, and stomach. He wasn’t groping her, but he was acting as if he hadn’t been driven here by his girlfriend.

I contemplated leaving him there to find his own way home then decided against it. I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. His head whipped around, and his glassy eyes tried—and failed—to focus on mine.

“There you are, baby!” His genuine surprise caused the woman he was dancing with to turn in his hold and give me a sour look. “This is Erin. She loves to dance and goes to school at NYU.”

“Did you get her zodiac sign, too?” I looked between them, sarcasm tipping my tongue and scrunching my nose.

“I’m a Capricorn,” Erin stated matter-of-factly.

“And I’m a bitch. Time to go, Duncan.” I cupped the back of his arm and pulled him away.

“Thanks for the dance,” he called back to her, then he followed me out to my car.

* * *

“You were jealous.” Duncan’s head rolled against the headrest to face me. “It was hot.”

“I wasn’t jealous of that random woman. I’m annoyed that you’re so drunk that you forgot who you came with.” I knew explaining was useless; he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“I couldn’t forget who I came with,” he slurred. “You’re the hottest bitch alive.”

“How many drinks did you end up having tonight? You were only on number four when I went to the bathroom.”

“I had a few shots with her before we started dancing.” He wiggled his ass in his seat. “She was a great dancer. How come you never dance with your ass on me?”

He reached his hand across the divide and pushed my dress up. I gave him a smack on his wrist, but he clamped his fingers on my thigh.

“Don’t be like that, baby. I know what you like.”

“We’re almost home. Then we can get you to bed.”

I pried his grip off of me and forced his hand onto his own lap with a demeaning pat to his knuckles.

“You’re trying to get me into bed, huh? Sexy little whore for me?”

I rolled my eyes. He only ever used dirty talk when he was intoxicated, and it made my skin crawl. The thought of him sweating on top of me as he flopped around like a beached whale with his dick out pushed bile up my throat. He was terrible in bed when he was drunk.

Something tingled at my hips, and my mind went back to Vassago’s light touch. The gentle pressure had forced me to cut off all other sensations in order to feel the tips of his fingers on my body. Warm musk and sweet fig wafted over me again, and I wondered if he was close by.

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