Finn and Sol stand beside me, looking disinterested in the dance floor. Tonight’s December Ball is already playing its part. Most of the student body showed up thanks to Jinx hyping up the mystique element of the party. It also helps that students outside of Redwood could attend.
This hellhole is a vicious playground most of the year, but in December, Redwood is known for its epic school dances. Everything is expensive and over-the-top.
Tonight is no exception.
The walls are covered with marble-themed wallpaper. Fake pillars have been dragged in to give the illusion of some kind of palace. Ivy and green foliage drape the pillars and a giant mosaic ceiling dangles above us.
The event planner this year went crazy and added a live orchestra to give the feel of a real Victorian era ball. There are baskets of fresh flowers that I couldn’t name even if someone held a gun to my head and servers wearing authentic vests and trousers that look like pirates.
It’s not just a dance.
It’s an experience.
And the place is absolutely swarming.
“Dutch and Cadence aren’t here yet?” Sol asks.
I check my phone and shake my head.
He grips his cup of punch tightly. I can smell the vodka from here.
“You okay with what you have to do later?” I ask, checking his face carefully.
He nods and his lips curl up slightly. That expression promises total hell.
I frown. “It’s just a contained fire, Sol. Don’t go crazy.”
“I already know what I’m going to do.”
Unease stabs my gut and I wonder if I should have let him unleash that monster inside him again.
Finn watches the security guards warily, like a wolf might watch a mountain lion. “They’re strapped.”
I notice the bulges in the guards’ pockets.
“Do they normally carry weapons at these things?”
Finn shakes his head ‘no’.
“Dad must have tipped Harris off. It’s like they expected us to do something tonight.” I frown.
Sol curses in Spanish.
Finn wipes a palm against his platoon pants.
We’re all wearing similar outfits. Nothing too crazy. Long-sleeved shirts with stupid ruffles at the neck. And long pants tucked into boots.
Finn looks like an actor from those K-dramas Viola likes to watch.
Sol looks like someone from his grandmother’s favorite telenovela.
I look like freaking Gaston.
My neck itches.
Damn. I hate these things.
I would have shown up in my motorcycle jacket and jeans, but for the sake of the plan, I wore what Cadey told me to when she stopped by my room this afternoon.
“When is Grey getting here?” I mumble, tugging at the ruffles.
“Maybe she ditched,” Sol says.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she disappeared just to spite me. Not that it will stop what’s coming.
I’m not holding back anymore.
That kiss on the ridge taught me one thing.
I don’t mind shattering.
But I’ll be damned if I shatter quietly.
I’m going to live how I want, have who I want and go out in a blaze of freaking flames.
A girl in a voluminous vintage skirt with a sheer top approaches me. I stare at her skin through the shirt and then move my gaze up to her face, trying to place her. It’s difficult because of the giant mask she’s wearing.
“Zane, right?” she whispers to me. Chewing on her bottom lip, she mumbles, “Or are you, Dutch?”
I say nothing.
She coughs and looks at me again. “Uh… or are you Sol?” I see her eyes darting back and forth behind her face mask. “You’re all tall. And standing together like The Kings. But I can’t tell which is which…”
Dammit.
Us hanging out makes it obvious who we are.
Finn gets the same revelation because he stalks away without a word.
Sol fades into the shadows, disappearing with his vodka punch and his secrets.
The girl pushes up against me and sniffs. Her mouth opens in a sigh and she whispers, “Definitely, Zane. I’d recognize the smell of leather and exhaust anywhere. You came here on your bike?”
I finally recognize her voice.
She’s the girl I screwed in the wilderness a few nights ago.
“I was waiting for you to get here.” Her fingers curl into my arm and she starts tugging. “This dance is boring. Want to find a free classroom and have some fun?”
I shake her off.
Her eyebrows hike so far, I can see it above the mask.
“Don’t you want to?” she whines.
I do.
But not with her.
I want Miss Jamieson.
In her classroom.
On top of her desk.
I want her choking on my kisses.
I want her hoarse from groaning my name.
I want her legs sprawling open, to an audience of empty chairs and my greedy eyes.
There are so many dirty lessons I want to teach her.
Maybe I’ll even give her homework.
Starting with what her punishment will be whenever she uses that teacher voice on me. It’s a stern, know-it-all tone and I want to ram her into the nearest wall and drag her skirt down to her ankles each time I hear it.
Would she let me have her tonight?
I bet she would.
Or at least she’ll want to.
There is nothing sexier than touching her and watching her fight to maintain a teacher-student distance. Knowing she can’t. Knowing she wants me as much as I want her.
I’m lost in thoughts of Grey and I don’t even realize I’ve still got company.
Not until the chick runs her hand down my chest.
“Zane, we’ve been hooking up for a while now. Don’t you think we should—”
A disturbance breaks out near the gym entrance.
Gasps ripple through the room.
People stop dancing and stare.
I swing my gaze around, feeling the energy shift. The double doors are open and someone in a long dress glides in. I blink through the haze of soft white beams and fake ornamental wall lanterns, trying to see who it is.
The woman in the mask steps under a light and the entire room takes a breath.
At the sight of her, a shock of desire punches me in the face. That kind of violent, full-body lust only happens for one person.
Even in a mask and with her hair straight, I recognize her.
It’s Grey.
I take a step forward.
“Zane,” the girl standing beside me tries to grip my arm.
I press a palm to her shoulder and push her back, stalking past her and aiming for Grey.
I’m too far away.
By the time I arrive, Grey is already surrounded.
“Can I have this dance?” One bozo bows to her, reaching for her hand.
I slam him in the chest. “No you cannot.”
“Yes.” Grey tilts her head up. Her mask is white and designed with delicate silver jewels. It covers most of her face leaving only her full, delectable lips and part of her nose free.
Grey smirks at me, walks around my frozen body and takes off with that punk.
My teeth grind together.
I turn and glare at them. I don’t recognize the dress she bought, but holy hell it looks incredible. Sexy and elegant all at once. It cuts low at the front and shows enough of her chest to make a guy salivate.
The punk she’s dancing with? He’s about to slip on his own drool.
Sol appears beside me, his cup newly-filled and the vodka scent stronger. “Who knew that was what she looked like outside of pencil skirts?”
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” I growl.
Sol laughs and takes another sip.
Anger burning inside me, I prowl over to the guy dancing with Grey. She sees me coming, but she doesn’t let go of the joker’s hand.
“I’m cutting in.”
“No, you’re not,” Grey says.
“The lady said no, man.”
“Beat it,” I snarl with enough heat to summon a hurricane. “Now.”
The guy gives me an assessing look, sees my fisted hands and backs off.
Grey glares at me through her mask. I can feel her annoyance like a fire on my skin.
“You’re drawing more attention to us,” she snaps.
“Then let’s give them something to watch.” I curl my hand over the small of her back and drag her to me so fast she lets out a little cry of surprise. With my other hand, I interlace our fingers and move her back and forth.
“This isn’t how you dance the waltz.”
My lips skate over her ear. “The waltz is boring. I’d rather have you grind on me.”
Her lips purse beneath the mask. “This is exactly why we chose this theme. It forces kids to have some decorum.”
“Only in public.” I lean closer and her sweet smell poisons my air, making me almost dizzy with need. “But I promise you, most of the guys are crawling under their girlfriend’s skirts later.”
“Tell me who they are and I’ll stop them.”
“You’ll be too busy later.” I meet her eyes and give her a pointed stare.
Her lips part slightly. “Zane, I already told you—”
“Ah-ah.” I pull her into me. “You’re not a teacher tonight, remember?”
“What am I if I’m not a teacher?” She fires back.
My words whisper across the back of her neck and I see goosebumps rising there. “Until Dutch gives the signal, you’re mine.”
