by Lexi C. Foss
I’m so screwed.
“This might not be a real date, but there’s something between us,” he continued, nipping my earlobe and stealing my ability to speak. Not that I would know how to reply to him. “We’re going to walk down those stairs so everyone can see the princess beneath the façade. And by the time we’re done with these miscreants, they’ll all bow at your feet.”
He palmed my cheek to guide my gaze up to his, that alluring mouth of his far too close to my own. “Are you ready?” he asked.
I couldn’t seem to breathe properly, so I just nodded. We needed to get this over with so I could go home. Quickly.
A “rip off the Band-Aid” sort of approach. Like, right now. And run. Run far—
He lightly touched his lips to the edge of my mouth, short-circuiting my thoughts again. And then released me.
A retort caught in my throat, the words gibberish by the time I forced them into my mouth. So I swallowed them and shook my head, trying to knock some sense back into myself.
This guy was potent.
A walking hazard who scrambled my brain cells.
A threat I needed to get far away from. Which was precisely the opposite thing that I did as he extended his elbow. My body acted of its own volition, my arm treacherously looping through his as he led me toward the platform.
What is happening to me? I wondered, feeling lighter than air on my heels. He kissed me.
What a ludicrous thought. Why should that matter? Dash had kissed me, too. Several times. But I never felt like this afterward.
And, wait, Tray really didn’t kiss me. Not passionately.
So why the heck was I floating on cloud nine over here? Because a cute guy touched me? I frowned. That cute guy also tried to drown me this week. And I wasn’t buying his protection act for a minute.
My stupid body just hadn’t received the mental memo yet.
Hence my legs moving us down the stairs into the ballroom below.
Where half my class seemed to be standing, all of their eyes round and on us. Great. Tray would be making his scene any second now.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered against my ear. “And now everyone knows it.”
I didn’t bother replying to that. Impressing me would take a whole hell of a lot more than a few measly compliments. And this dress. And the limo. And everything else he’d done tonight.
Shaking myself once more, I refocused on our surroundings. Ryan stood beside a scowling Dash, her expression souring as she took in my blue gown. Carmen appeared behind her with an equally irritated look. Very different from my last dance, where they’d positively beamed at my entrance.
So what was different about tonight?
Tray steered me away from them and toward the center of the room, his lips falling to my ear again. “Dance with me.”
“Why?” I asked, shivering from his nearness and the multitude of eyes on me. I thought I could do this, face all my classmates and essentially tell them to go screw themselves. But Tray had unnerved me, his touch confusing my sensibilities.
“Because everyone is staring at us and I want to give them something to really look at,” he replied, swinging me into his arms in an expert move that my feet automatically followed.
Ballroom dancing was an elective course at the academy. But that wasn’t how I knew how to respond. My mother had taught me the formal movements at a very young age. She’d also enrolled me in ballet—my favorite activity until my step-monster took it from me. Chores are more important than gallivanting around in slippers, she’d said.
My heart ached at the thought. But my pulse quickly escalated as Tray nudged my hips in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
I followed as he led, my legs and torso moving as if under a spell of my past life. Memories of my mother whirled through my mind, just as they had outside of La Scala. Only, it wasn’t pain I felt this time, but freedom.
I’m dancing, I marveled, temporarily suspended in a frame of mind I hadn’t felt in so, so long. How Tray maneuvered me into this position, I couldn’t say. But now that I was here, I didn’t want to leave.
I felt alive.
Like a bird soaring through the sky.
Flying.
Free.
He picked up our pace, matching the rhythm of the song beautifully and turning me at all the right moments. His hands expertly led mine, his footing a master of perfection, and I lost myself to the music. Gave in to Tray and his expert skill. Allowing myself to forget the cruel world around us, to pretend we thrived in another world entirely.
His palms were a brand against my waist, then my hips, and on my lower back. I felt possessed by him, owned utterly by the fluttering of sound guiding our steps. He dipped me to the ground and back up, my chest heaving against his own, as the sound of applause pierced my ears.
Smoldering dark brown irises held mine.
No smile.
No amusement.
Just an intensity that nearly burned me alive.
I swallowed, uncertain of how this all happened. It was as if he’d woven a spell over me, controlling my actions and dissolving my hesitation.
His fingers trailed up my spine to caress the back of my neck while his opposite hand settled on my hip. “Now they see the real you, Ella,” he whispered. “A glistening jewel in a sea of darkness.”
I blinked at him. “You say the strangest things to me.”
“And I’ve only gotten started, sweetheart.” His mouth settled over mine so quickly that I didn’t understand what he was doing until his tongue parted my lips.
The world froze around me.
Because that brush of his mouth in the hallway before was nothing compared to this. He kissed me as if his life depended on mine to survive. I couldn’t breathe beneath the intensity, the ownership of his touch.
Some part of me knew to fight.
While the other part sighed at the rightness of his caress.
I’m going insane.
I shouldn’t be embracing him, yet I was. Vigorously, too. I even had my fingers in his hair. My damn body taking charge without my mind’s permission. But I was too wrapped up in his touch to stop it, everything and everyone lost to the white noise of my thoughts.
His tongue moved against mine with the same skill he’d used to guide me around the dance floor, hypnotizing me into submitting.
A loud ding sent a jolt down my spine, drawing me back to reality like a slap across my face. It came from a clock somewhere in the ballroom, announcing the time. Midnight.
My eyes slid open to find a circle around us.
Just like that night freshman year.
Dread pooled in my belly.
A foreboding sensation crawling across my skin.
Tray smiled at someone over my shoulder, and my heart stopped. Three, two…
“Well, this looks cozy,” Ryan said from behind me. “I barely even recognized you, Cindersoot. What with the makeover and all.”
Carmen cackled, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “Still can’t hide the trash beneath.”
One of them fondled the skirt of my dress, and I knew what they planned to do next. Even before I heard the telltale sound of a rip.
Shit.
Chapter Eight
Ella
“Ladies,” Tray greeted, his palms falling to my hips to hold me in place. “Have you come to collect?”
“Hmm, depends on what you’re offering,” Ryan replied as a nail slid sharply up my back to the top of my zipper.
Tray spun me in his arms before I could react, my dress remaining upright as a result. “I owe your stepsister a dance,” he murmured against my ear. “Go grab us some drinks.” He pushed me to the side, stepping forward at the same time to draw Ryan into his arms.
I blinked at his back, shocked despite knowing something like this would happen. It just wasn’t how I expected it to go down. A public humiliation, sure, but swapping dance partners?
“Now, Isabella,” he added, glancing at me over his
shoulder.
Carmen and Ryan snickered while I narrowed my gaze at him.
He wanted me to go fetch them some drinks like a dog? Okay. Sure. I could do that. “I’ll be right back,” I said sweetly, seething inside.
How had I fallen beneath his spell so easily? He’d kissed me in front of all these people. Would he do the same with Ryan now? Was that his endgame—to show exactly how dispensable I was to him? Or maybe he planned to tell everyone I didn’t live up to his standards, to try to embarrass me on an intimate level.
Regardless, I wouldn’t be giving him the satisfaction.
He could dance all night with Ryan, for all I cared. But first, I’d grab their drinks.
My lips twitched at the plan forming in my head, only to walk nearly headfirst into Dash and Charlie, who stood on the sidelines waiting for me. I knew better than to shove past them, so I stopped and arched a brow. “Yes?”
“I see the attire hasn’t improved your manners,” Charlie drawled, his gaze raking over my dress and pausing far too long on my neckline.
Dash circled me, his expression boasting a rare serious quality. He usually smirked or glared or said something derisive, but he appeared quiet and contemplative tonight. That almost made me more nervous.
“Did you two want something?” I demanded, my hands on my hips.
“Yes.” Dash grabbed my wrist. “A dance.”
I nearly snorted. He couldn’t be serious. “Sure,” I lied. “After I get His Majesty the drinks he requested, we can dance.”
Not.
I would be leaving just as soon as I finished playing fetch for the aspiring prince of Darlington Academy. I mean, wasn’t that his rationale for helping me? He’d said he wanted to stand by my side when I took over as the new queen. But why bother when he could go after the current monarch?
Dash’s grip tightened. “Ella.”
I blinked at him. “Sorry, what?” He’d clearly been speaking when I lost my train of thought.
He tugged me closer as Charlie stepped into my back, effectively trapping me between them. “I want to dance.”
Their crowding held a lethal edge that had my heart skipping a beat. Stay calm, I coached myself. Try to smile. “We will just as soon as I finish grabbing His Majesty’s drinks.”
His resulting frown told me he didn’t approve of my response. “It wasn’t a request.”
“I think we need to remind her who’s in charge here, Charming.”
“I think we do, too, Anderson,” he agreed, releasing my wrist to palm my lower back. “Don’t you remember our first dance, Cindersoot? How much fun we had together?”
My eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Fun. That’s what I remember having.”
“Do you need me to kiss you again? To remind you what it felt like to be in my capable hands?” He demonstrated by lowering said hand to my ass and squeezing. Hard.
Charlie leaned in to bite my ear, causing me to yelp in surprise. “Maybe you’d rather experience my mouth for a change.”
I shivered—and not in a good way. “No, thank you,” I said, trying to twist out from between them.
Hands clamped around my middle, holding me in place as Dash lowered his face to hover over mine. “I’m tired of this cold-bitch routine, darling.” He captured my chin between his fingers, pinching to the point of pain. “If you can kiss Tray, you can kiss me.”
“I kiss who I want to kiss,” I retorted, spitting in his face when his lips came a little too close to mine. I’d rather deal with his physical wrath than allow that foul mouth anywhere near mine.
He growled low in his throat, his grip tightening to an agonizing degree while his opposite hand fisted in my dress, yanking me forward. “Lick it off, bitch.”
“Lick it off yourself, jackass.” I lifted my knee, hoping to connect with his groin, only to have my limb tangled in the tulle of my skirt. Damn ball gown!
He rubbed his face against mine while Charlie gripped my hips, holding me still. I gagged in response to both the erection pressing into my backside and the slimy substance spreading across my cheek.
Ugh, and as usual, no one came to my defense.
People just watched because this entire academy housed a flock of rich sheep.
And the teachers were fuck knew where.
I only had myself to rely on, as always.
Being manhandled by two guys. Oh, but they were the princes of the school, captains of their respective sports teams, so obviously no one could do a damn thing about them. No. Not Charlie Anderson or Dash Charming.
Flames practically licked my veins, heating my skin to a boiling point as I fought in earnest to release their holds.
Which only made them laugh.
They loved when I struggled.
“Release me,” I demanded.
“Oh, come on, Cindersoot. You wore this dress to impress us, and it worked. Deal with it.” Dash was the picture of calm arrogance, his lips curling into a devious grin. “Tell us what you’re wearing beneath. Something lacy and blue, just like this gown?”
“Mmm, or maybe nothing at all,” Charlie suggested, his lips far too close to my ear as he ground his arousal into my ass.
“Enough,” I snapped, trying and failing to twist out from between them. They had me well and truly trapped. My heart leapt into my throat. At least we’re not alone, I tried to tell myself. Yeah, like anyone else is going to care or help.
I had to play this smart.
Give them what they wanted and lull them into a sense of comfort until I could escape.
That was the—
“Get your hands off my date,” a cool voice demanded from a few steps away.
Oh, good. He wanted to pretend to be a knight. As if I would ever fall for that. “Fuck off, Tray,” I told him, furious at everyone and everything. “Go back to your new queen.”
With Dash continuing to hold my chin, I couldn’t see Tray’s facial reaction, but I heard the laugh that fell from his lips. “I see you’ve riled her up,” he said conversationally.
“It’s so easy to do,” Charlie replied, pressing his nose into my hair. “Do we have you to thank for her improved conditions?”
“I may have hired a team of makeup artists and a hairstylist,” he admitted, holding out his hand. “Come here, Ella.”
I wouldn’t acknowledge that even if I could.
“We’re not done playing with her yet.” Dash tilted his head, his eyes holding mine. “She seems to think she has the right to refuse me.”
“When she’s my date to a dance, I’d agree that she most certainly does have that right,” Tray countered, an edge entering his tone. “Release my date, Charming. You had your fun with her. It’s my turn now.”
“On the contrary, I think you’re done and it’s time to leave her with the professionals.” Dash slammed his mouth into mine, his tongue shoving between my lips before I had a chance to even process his movements.
My teeth clamped down in protest, my body freezing.
A completely opposite reaction to Tray’s kiss, something I’d evaluate later.
But Dash? I wanted him off me. Right. Fucking. Now.
I planted my palms against his chest and shoved as hard as I could, but his muscular form didn’t budge an inch.
Until someone ripped him backward. The abrupt movement cracked my frozen shell and spun me into action as I whirled on Charlie and sent my fist into his nose.
Tray caught me around the waist, hoisting me into the air and spinning me behind him. “Stay,” he snapped, turning to face the two assholes he’d just wrangled me out from.
If he thought I intended to listen to his command, he had another think coming.
I took off through the ballroom, ignoring Ryan’s and Carmen’s shouts at my back, and sprinted up the stairs toward the exit.
Fuck him.
Fuck Dash.
Fuck Charlie.
Fuck Ryan.
Fuck Carmen.
Fuck Darlington Academy.
Fuck this ent
ire fucking city!
June could not come fast enough.
I pushed through the front doors, kicked off the stiletto heels because they were slowing me down, and ran barefoot down the cobblestone drive. It hurt, but I’d numbed myself to the pain years ago.
Surviving the death of my parents and the perpetual treatment of the family that was supposed to care for me had ensured that I had the mettle of steel. I could handle a little blood and cuts.
“Isabella!” Tray shouted behind me, sending a shiver down my spine. But unlike the shiver Charlie and Dash had elicited, this one left me feeling warm inside.
Which I hated even more.
Why did my body react to Tray in this manner? Sure, he was hot. But so were the other douchebags, and they didn’t leave me feeling hot all over.
Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I urged my legs to move faster, but the damn skirts continued to tangle with my limbs, slowing me down. If I moved too quickly, I’d trip, and then—
Strong arms circled my core, hoisting me into the air and off my feet.
I shrieked, the trees and limos my only witnesses.
Surely one of the drivers would come forward. Right?
Oh, no. I forgot. I lived in Darlington, where employees were paid to be discreet and look the other way.
I screamed in frustration, my anger at fate hitting a high point. “Why?!” I shouted at no one in particular. And a slew of curses followed.
Tray said nothing.
Or maybe I just couldn’t hear him over my own screams.
I wasn’t crying for help but ranting at the heavens for their cruelty.
Eight. Fucking. Months.
I had to survive eight more fucking months. And I wasn’t sure I could without killing someone.
“I can help with that.” The soft words came from Tray, and I glared at him over my shoulder.
“Help with what?” I demanded.
“Killing them all. If that’s what you want.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right. Why are you even here?” I tried to squirm out of his hold with little success.
“You’re not running away from me again, Isabella.”
I rolled my eyes and huffed a humorless laugh. “Right.” I attempted again to shove away from him, and he spun me in his arms. Smoldering black orbs flickered with embers as he glowered down at me, the abnormal effect stealing the breath from my lungs.
