27. Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six

A t precisely six o'clock, a light rap sounds on my dorm room door. I briefly glance at Kay, who is curled up in bed on her phone.

"Well, it isn't for me," she grumbles. Her on-off girlfriend invited someone else to the ball, prior to officially calling it quits with Kay via text message. She's been in moping mode all week, and watching me twirl around in my ball gown hasn't helped.

Checking my face and teeth one last time in the small desk mirror, I brush down the navy satin skirts. My phone is tucked into an invisible pocket, beside the thigh-high slit. Along with a low dip between my cleavage, the bust held in place by thin spaghetti straps, I can see why Garrett chose this dress before I'd even tried it on. Meg wouldn't have believed I was going out with so much skin on show, which is why I sent her a dozen photos before pulling on the satin shawl.

My heels click across the room and I open the door. Axel is leaning against the hallway wall, standing promptly as he looks me over. His hazel eyes sparkle, his features slack. I hide my blush by tucking the free blonde tendril from my updo behind my ear. He steps forward and untucks it again.

"You're stunning," Axel breathes. So is he. Garrett mentioned he'd be in jeans, but Axel's swagger is evident in his styling. The denim is dark, the fit tight and akin to slacks. His t-shirt is also fitted and mostly hidden beneath a blazer. His brown belt matches his dress shoes.

"You don't fix up too badly yourself," I smile back. From behind his back, Axel produces a corsage. A singular rose, the petals a flurry of rainbow colors.

"I figured you didn't have an official prom." My smile falls away as Axel eases the band around my wrist. Amongst the flirtatious fun, I hadn't expected such a considerate thought. My eyes float over Axel's shoulder, watching others being accompanied from their rooms to the stairwell. No Garrett in sight. My chest tightens, a feeling I can't describe bubbling beneath the surface. I push it aside and find my smile once more. I vowed to myself to enjoy this night. Like Axel has already pointed out, putting myself out in the real world isn't a regular occurrence.

Axel offers his arm, guiding me from the dorm block to the parking lot. A limousine awaits. I tip my head to the chauffeur who opens the rear door, revealing the rest of the Shadowed Souls. Garrett looks at me over the rim of a glass, his smirk blocked from view. As I take a seat, the slit in my dress opens wide. Huxley's eyes drop immediately while Dax acts the gentleman and looks away. Across the far end of the seats, with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a girl in his lap, is Wyatt. He's the only one who seems to have brought a date.

"You guys seriously hired a limo for a four-minute drive?" I scoff. "Why am I even surprised?" Axel slides into my side, winding his arm around my waist and tugging me close. Apparently, being his date tonight means he gets handling rights over me. Garrett downs his drink, a brightly colored cocktail of some kind, and raises a brow.

"Economy needs rich fuckers like us to do reckless things," he half shrugs. Axel leans into my ear.

"What he means is - we paid the chauffeur for the entire night. After this four-minute drive, he's grabbing takeout and going home to his family. We had a nice chat while waiting for you to get ready." I blink a few times, trying to concentrate while Axel's thumb brushes my cheek. Everywhere he touches me, I'm alive. It's the first time his fingers have graced my skin since creaming my tattoo. At odds with this recent behavior, he's no longer holding back. The drive is quick and before I know it, we're stepping into the main hall.

Instantly, the rich, earthy scent of fallen leaves and cinnamon strikes. Garlands of vibrant orange, red, and yellow leaves are strung along the walls, interspersed with twinkling fairy lights. The ceiling is draped with gauzy fabrics in shades of hazel and gold, creating a canopy that bathes the room in a warm, golden glow. My arm is in Axel's as we pass through the curtained archway, a slow smile spreading across my face. It's busy, but for once, I couldn't care less.

We stand in line for a photo op, the red carpet trickled with more leaves and pumpkins. I stand in the center of a roped area, a camera facing the autumnal backdrop. Pausing, I glance back at the four guys giving me their thumbs up. Wyatt decided not to enter with us and I'm not mad about it. I chew on my bottom lip when the assistant calls for my smile, my hands wringing the strap of my clutch bag. I've never really been the ‘look at me' type, and I'm certainly not comfortable alone in the spotlight, but I give it my best shot for the flurry of flashes which follow.

Suddenly, a rush of bodies slam into me from all sides. Hands claim every inch of my waist and hips, the guys grinning goofily. Someone tickles my ribs and someone else grabs my ass. My own laughter is caught on camera several times over. Two photo strips are handed over, one going into my bag and the other in Huxley's pocket. We move on, letting the rest of those queuing have their turn.

The main feature in the center of the hall is a large dance floor, its polished wood reflecting the overhead lights like a mirror. At one end, a stage is set up for the band, adding a lively backdrop to the chatter and laughter filtering throughout. Around the dance floor, tables are set with burgundy tablecloths, littered with gold flakes and adorned with centerpieces of carved pumpkins. Across the far side, a long buffet is announced as open.

"Food!" shouts Garrett. He barrels through a nearby crowd, causing drinks to spill. Axel chuckles, his mouth dropping to my ear.

"He literally just ate before we left."

"I do like a buffet," I shrug, tugging him in the same direction. We graciously sidestep around the group now wearing their apple cider and I offer a pack of tissues from my clutch. They decline.

Dax and Huxley hang back to grab a table, although I've lost sight of them amongst the women who took their cue to shoot their shot. I have no right to be jealous. We all deserve to enjoy the evening, but I opt to not look back and regularly assess their choices in women either .

The buffet is laid with serving platters, ladles and bowls, the main option being a pumpkin chili.

"Should we grab some for the others?" I ask Axel, claiming myself a bowl. He snorts and shakes his head.

"Wyatt can't handle spicy food, but you didn't hear that from me." I look away swiftly to hide the intrigue in my expression. That's a note I'll save for later. Dishing out my soup and taking some bread slices, Axel has already moved onto the far end - the desserts. They range from caramel apples and spiced cookies to a chocolate fountain with skewers of fruit and marshmallows ready for dipping. Garrett easily has one of each piled on his plate and Axel soon has the same. I roll my eyes at their sweet tooth, carefully holding my steaming soup. I starved myself all day rather than look bloated in my ball gown, and now I'm ready for a proper meal.

Reaching the chosen table, happily finding Wyatt is nowhere to be seen, the squad of beautiful girls instantly move away. I make a show of smelling my pits and checking my breath.

"It's not you," Huxley laughs. His fingers twitch as he resists the urge to pull me into his lap. Instead, he stands to pull out my chair. "I sent them away," he mutters against my neck, the brush of a kiss lingering there. I sit with a skeptically raised brow .

"You didn't have to do that. I'm sure we all want to get laid tonight." Dax chokes on his drink just as Garrett sits on my other side. He slaps Dax's back roughly, and the smile doesn't leave his face.

"True that," Garrett agrees, shoveling chips and guacamole into his mouth. It's lucky he's cute. "But we don't want to get laid by any old piece of ass. Cheerleaders may be flexible but they never fail to have an attitude problem." He points a chip at me. I lean on my fist, playing along.

"And you think ballerinas are any better? I hear we all have an ego complex." Garrett grins, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief.

"But they have the stamina to make up for it." He winks. Dax is still spluttering as he leans forward.

"What he means to say is, we're not about that other woman drama."

"Same thing," Garrett shrugs and keeps eating. I laugh until my sides hurt and gulp down my punch. It feels good to be in public and not feel anxious. To be present and in good company, rather than hiding in the back and picking at my cuticles. I eat my soup and tap my feet to the music, watching those dancing. On my fourth punch refill, I become convinced it's spiked. The warmth in my belly and carefree lightness to my head is enough evidence .

"Dance with me?" Axel asks. I lean against his shoulder, my smile stupidly wide.

"I thought you'd never ask." Axel takes my hand and leads me to the center of the dancefloor. The music slows, causing the sea of bodies around us to either couple-up or slink away. As the lights dim, I eye Axel suspiciously. He pretends not to notice, but I see the dimple deepening as he tries to hide his smirk. Nothing surprises me with these guys anymore.

His hands rests on my waist, firm but gentle, and I place mine on his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his jacket and t-shirt. I'm hyper-aware of every point of contact between us. I'm not sure who initiates it, but soon we're closer, our bodies swaying together in perfect sync. I feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with an underlying layer of citrus. My breath hitches as his hand slides a little lower on my back, pulling me closer until there's hardly any space between us.

I look up into his hazel eyes. They are smoldering with intensity, causing my pulse to quicken. Suddenly, the air feels thick with unspoken desire. His thumb brushes against my side, a subtle, almost teasing motion that leaves a trail of fire in its wake. A shiver rolls the length of my spine.

"Avery," Axel murmurs, his voice husky. I still, forgetting how to move. How to breathe. The music plays around us, enveloping us in our own bubble amongst the masses. "I can't describe how beautiful you are." His words send a thrill through me, and I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips.

"You don't clean up too badly yourself," I whisper back, my voice barely audible. T-shirt or not, Axel looks, smells and feels amazing. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear, and it takes everything in me not to shiver.

"I didn't just mean tonight in that dress. You're so fucking beautiful, Avery, sometimes just looking at you knocks me off kilter. You're so pure," he breathes, and then he pulls back just enough to look at me again. "So accepting. Do you think you could be with someone like me? Someone broken who will never be whole enough for you, but wants to try anyway?"

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the world fades away. Axel's expression is open, those cracks in his armor on full display for me to either patch up or tear to shreds. And it's evident he doesn't care which. He's so willing to jump off the cliff with me and see what happens. I can't deny wanting to do it too.

Drawn by an irresistible force, my lips find his. A slow, almost tentative movement that burns me from within. I lean into him, putting all of my weight into his strong arms. His hand slides up my back, cradling the nape of my neck, and I melt into him, losing myself in the sensation of his warmth, his mouth slow and seeking. Axel isn't looking for hot and heavy, he's giving me a deeper connection I'd usually run from. I'm not running this time.

When we finally pull apart, I'm breathless, my heart pounding. He rests his forehead against mine, and I can feel his breath, warm and ragged, mingling with mine.

"That was so hot," a voice trembles slightly at my back. I shift, noticing Garrett is close behind, and that it's his hand on my nape, guiding me into Axel. "Mind if I cut in?" Despite asking the question, Garrett doesn't wait for a response. His hands grip my waist and he physically sets me aside before stepping into Axel's personal space. Winding his arms around Axel's neck, Garrett sways, twisting them both away from my eyeline. A light tap on my shoulder announces Dax's arrival.

"I'm not quite sure what just happened." I blink a few times. Dax laughs, holding out his hand for me like a gentleman.

"Garrett does what he's best at. He pushed the two of you together and then decided he was jealous. He's fickle, you'll get used to it." Spinning me in a ballroom-style twirl, Dax draws me close into his body, but keeps his hands in the proper places and our bodies properly distanced. I smile up at him.

"There's a lot of people around. Shouldn't I be worried about the rumors I'm creating here?" I half-tease, but also notice the side glances I receive from switching from one Shadowed Soul to the next.

"It depends," Dax half shrugs, smirking all the while.

"On what?"

"On if you care about what people think, or if you would rather chase what your heart wants. You can be respected and admired by those who don't know you, or you can be happy." My brows lift as I'm caught off-guard by Dax's honesty. I don't know why, he's never given me any half-truths or false fantasies. Stepping into his body to avoid his stare, I rest my head against Dax's shoulder. He takes his cue to tighten his arms around my back and just hold me, swaying to a rhythm that is completely off-beat and totally our own.

My thoughts drift to my mom. There's no better example of public opinion. She was admired by the entire world, always in the news for her charity work and generosity. She spent her entire life living for others, myself included. But now I think back to the times she thought I wasn't watching. To when she'd play melancholy tunes on the piano or forget to sit properly when watching a movie. In those moments, I saw a woman who gave all of herself to others, and I'm starting to wonder if there was anything left for herself. Living that way is exhausting, and I've never really given a shit about respect .

"I choose happiness." I declare. Those large hands on my lower back tighten.

"Good girl," Dax brushes the ghost of a kiss against my cheek. I gasp softly at his playfulness, my thighs clenching. When so many other big personalities live under one roof, I can see how he might be easily discounted. But a gentleman who opens doors and then whispers dirty things in my ear? Dax is ticking all of my boxes.

Smiling into his shoulder, inhaling his sea mineral body wash, I could remain like this all night if it wasn't for the hand that roughly grabs my arm, tearing me away. I wobble in my heels until I'm spun to meet Wyatt's green eyes. Eyes in which the pupils are blown wide and there's a stupidly weird smile on his face.

"Ahh fuck," I mutter under my breath. Brooding Wyatt, fine. Glaring Wyatt, no problem. High-as-shit Wyatt? Yeah, I can't call that. That same hand on my upper arm drags me into his personal space, his fine suit brushing against the front of my dress. I shove at his chest as Dax grabs his wrist, but Wyatt's sneer only gets wider.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he chuckles with an ominous undertone that gives me pause. There's nothing more unnerving than his seemingly-kind smile when I know the blackness of his heart. Or lack of, in this case.

"It's fine, Dax. Give us a minute." After a lengthy side glance, Dax nods and backs away, taking a lingering Huxley with him. Stalling my shoving, my hands remain on Wyatt's chest. One arm slides around my back and in a smooth movement, he jolts me closer as a cold object presses against my thigh. It's metal and at the hilt of my skirt's high slit. The dimmed lighting causes shadows to fall over Wyatt's sharp features, yet I still watch intently, trying to gauge his next move. He starts to sway us side to side.

"Not going to scream for help?"

"That would imply that I was scared," I reply instantly. It's all bullshit, of course. I don't think I've ever sensed Wyatt so volatile. I also don't want to become too comfortable with the Shadowed Souls coming to my rescue, which is why I don't pay any attention to Garrett and Axel waltzing around in the background.

The cold metal inches higher, tugging at my satin. It's a blade of some sort, a pocketknife maybe. Either way, the thrill of desire that slams through me is completely unwarranted. Wyatt, despite his inhibited state, doesn't miss a beat. His green eyes sharpen, his head slightly tilted.

"You like this, don't you?" he smirks. To test out his theory, Wyatt presses the knife closer, its sharp edge taut against my skin. It's not so easy to feign indifference this time. I swallow thickly, my lids lowering. My mind slips. The world fades away. Nothing exists except Wyatt's solid chest beneath my palms and the press of metal against my thigh. I try to predict the moment the blade slices my skin, a warm trickle of blood creeping south.

Wyatt's mouth is beside my ear then, his breath heated. "Holy shit. You're just as fucked up as I am."

"No one is as fucked up as you are," I mutter back. Yet I'm not moving back. Between the bulk of his outline, the dimmed lighting and the loud music, I don't pull away. It's the longest Wyatt has given me his attention and I'm seriously questioning my life choices as to why I care. Why, after everything, I want more of it. Because I hate myself, I quickly decide.

"You know, I've been dreading this stupid dance," Wyatt is grinning again. Ear to ear, like the Joker. Every sway we take, the blade creeps up towards my thigh.

"Then why are you here?" My nostrils flare, the only tell that I'm affected. His chest is hard beneath my palms, long and steady breaths causing them to rise and fall. His suit is designer, I now realize. His dark hair is impeccably swept back and the cologne. That goddamn cologne which invades my senses and makes me dizzy. My lungs seize as Wyatt leans forward, his mouth against my cheek. I shiver and internally curse Garrett for putting this fantasy in my head.

"I figured since slutting around was your thing, I would just give you a helping hand." Then he strikes. The blade moves effortlessly, gliding through the satin of my dress, over my hip and across my waist at a wonky angle. I suck inwards to avoid being cut across my abdomen, and finally his arm releases me. He's torn away before I've even gathered the remains of the fabric together, just about concealing the black thong I'm wearing underneath. Wyatt must catch a glimpse anyway, his barking laughter ringing out over the music.

"Who exactly are you dressing up for, little sis?" he calls out, gaining everyone's attention. My cheeks instantly flame. Anger boils my blood, sending me over the edge. I've changed my mind. Fuck this asshole.

Standing tall, I let my dress fall in its tatters. Huxley and Dax are dragging Wyatt away as I storm after them. They stop on the edge of the dancefloor, all three watching me tentatively. I grab Wyatt's tie, wrapping it around my fist and yank him towards my face.

"I don't give a fuck who you think you are. You don't get to slut shame anyone." No thought process happens beyond that, just the jerk of my leg as I knee Wyatt squarely in the balls. Whatever drug Wyatt is on infuses a trickle of laughter with his screaming, his legs giving out and body crumpling onto the floor. He's a mess of howls and whooping, a sad sight for the men who come to stand around him.

In some silent conversation I'm not a part of, Dax and Huxley attend to carrying Wyatt out, while Axel's arms swoop me up. Our exit is swift but not quiet, as Garrett holds his hands high and shouts, ‘there's nothing to see here!'. It's too late anyway. I glance over Axel's shoulder to the sea of camera phones and flashlights pointed at me. The one and only time Wyatt has acknowledged me in public, and it's been caught on camera for the world to see. So much for not giving a shit about outsider opinions.