The music starts to swell toward the end. It’s the last song of the night. Everyone seems to know it. I can feel it. Surging and surging, pushing me to an unknown finish.
“I have to do this,” I say. I start to step away from Ian, toward the Royals that aren’t Royals. “I won’t be pushed around.”
“Stay,” he breathes.
“I can’t.” I take one step back, turning away from Ian.
“Liv, don’t,” Ian pleads. “Just look at me.” Not too gently, he pulls me back toward him.
Without warning, his mouth is on mine and his arms are around me, pulling my center to his and our bodies explode in human passion. And all the fighting and training and bantering we’ve been doing climaxes into something I can’t explain and don’t ever want to come to a conclusion.
Ian’s lips part and so do mine. Even as his breath gathers to say things I can’t do. “Just leave with me. Now. Just walk away.”
I give him one final kiss, feeling more alive than I ever have before, yet feeling like a sinking ship. Because I know I cannot give him what he wants. I pull away.
“I have to do this, and you have to let me.” A million emotions are running rampant in me and I’m not prepared to deal with a single one.
Because Ian and I have been circling one another in close orbit. We have gravitational pull on each other that can’t be explained by logic and reason. And I’ve always known, from the moment Ian decided not to kill me, that one day we would collide.
Sometimes fate deals you the horrible and the incredible. We can’t run from either.
I take a step away from him, but Ian holds onto my hand. I take another step, and millimeter by millimeter, our fingers slip apart. Then I’m gone, and Ian is still standing there in the middle of the ballroom, watching me run into the middle of a pack of wolves.
So I turn away, and I don’t look back. Because if I do, I’ll lose every ounce of determination I’ve built today.
The crowd dissipates with every step I take. People flood toward the doors, almost as if they can sense the danger they’ve been ignoring all night. Darkness has blanketed the town, and everyone knows not to go out after dark. Time to escape back into the safety of their homes.
But I don’t flee to safety. I’m too far past that.
I step forward, and stop right in front of Jasmine.
“I’m so pleased you could join us this evening,” Jasmine says with a smile from behind her mask. And I swear, her teeth look sharper than ever tonight. She is no longer the easygoing, soft woman who needed help with a twisted ankle. She’s a queen, a ruler, a manipulator. “Aren’t we pleased our honored guest has joined us?”
The other House members around her all stare me down and nod. They all return to their seats, except one. Four women, four men. My skin crawls, but I tell myself to not be afraid.
I want to turn and see if Ian is still standing there watching me. But I can’t. Because if he is, I will panic.
“I need to talk to you,” I say to Jasmine. At the moment, she doesn’t seem too threatening. No glowing red eyes, no face covered in terrifying veins. But there’s a reason for all the fear in this town, and she’s in charge. “I need to warn you about something that has happened.”
One of the women laughs. Really, she’s a girl. She doesn’t look much older than sixteen. Black, greasy-looking hair, a nose ring, she’s got all the attitude of every other human teenager. “Warn us. You do understand what we are, right? Why would we need warning about anything?”
“Have some respect, Trinity,” Jasmine says with both ice and warmth in her voice and I’m not sure how that’s possible. “This is the daughter of our regional leader. If she has something to say, we will hear it.”
“We should get home first,” the black man says. He leans toward Jasmine when he does, but never takes his eyes off of me.
“Agreed,” Jasmine says. “I suggest we retire to the House. We can talk there, and then we will have our driver take you home.”
One of the two brothers, the one who did not ask me to dance, gives something between a sneer and a smile, and it chills me to wonder what he’s thinking.
“Alright,” I say. I’m brave. I am.
People enter the ballroom now wearing work clothes. They’re here to clean up, and with the flash of yellow eyes, I realize they too are Bitten. The House members all stand and start filing toward the front doors.
I finally understand then. The Born have red eyes, the Bitten yellow.
“Where is Markov?” Jasmine asks with impatience.
“You know exactly where he is,” the woman with the fantastic dress says with annoyance in her voice.