Josie
I stared into the empty, glazed eyes in the mirror, my mind racy with apprehension...
Or was that excitent?
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way Thorne had asked to be ready for when he’d co get .
Marcy’s fingers worked like magic behind as she struggled to fix my white hair.
It was a tangled ss, as I barely paid any attention to it.
It was Saturday afternoon, and although the party wasn’t until evening, we’d decided to get started with dressing up much earlier.
Especially because of the hair—Marcy had carefully curled it a few strands after a few strands. Like that.
And Thorne had stressed severally that he detested lateness.
Marcy set the curler aside and swept the curls atop my head, snapping it together with a gorgeous hairpin.
"You have to act right, Josie," she was saying, as she moved around to dust up my face. "You look absolutely stunning, so you have to carry yourself in the sa manner. You know what I an? No dragging of feet and..."
Her words trailed off in my ears as my mind trailed back to Thorne and my episode with him at the courtyard.
How he’d had pinned up against that wall, his face and body so close I thought I’d die from the heat.
She finished up in a few minutes and scurried behind my chair, holding my face up in the mirror.
"Good heavens, Josie," she breathed, her eyes glazing over, "you look...breathtaking."
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, in part admiration and...confusion. I couldn’t agree more, about the breathtaking part.
Was this really ?
Whatever Marcy had done to my face, my eyes... It spoke volus.
You could just see the difference right away. Thicker lashes, sorta contoured brows, shimr around the lids, lipstick.
Soft, sensual.
I liked it.
But I didn’t say that.
Instead, I whirled around, Thorne’s words from earlier ringing in my ears— Get ready, I’ll be coming to get you.
I suddenly wondered how he’d react if he saw like...this. My nipples hardened against the fabric of my silk dress—A deep erald green, hanging a bit loosely on my body. But strikingly beautiful.
"Thorne’s different from his brothers," I blurted without preamble.
Marcy stared at in confusion.
"It’s just..." I pushed ahead, shaking my head slowly, "he makes feel things I haven’t felt before."
I stared at her like she could give the answers, but she just looked moony, her eyes wide and gleaming.
"Of course, Josie," she whispered, gently palming my face, "that’s the way it should be. Rember what I said?"
I cocked a brow in cluelessness.
"Rember I told you, Thorne is an abso-fucking-lutely intense man. And whoever’s in his sight usually gets consud by him and all that...intensity. And I an, swallowed up. Maybe that’s what’s happening to you..."
She had this wild, excited look in her eyes. Strange, but that wasn’t my problem.
My problem was the intensity of the heat scattered across my skin at the thought of Thorne swallowing up.
But I didn’t mince words.
Thorne had a way of making feel things strongly. Strange things.
Things that weren’t supposed to make my heart flutter.
Things that weren’t supposed to spark that slow-burn heat deep in my stomach.
Things that weren’t supposed to make want his touch.
He was real with , unlike Kiel and Varen.
Kiel...he hadn’t even sought out again ever since after the drama with Thorne.
Doesn’t it say a lot?
Maybe his stupid ego was bigger than fixing the issue between us?
I brushed the thought off, refocusing on Thorne.
Kiel could go fuck himself, or the Michelle girl. I really didn’t care anymore.
I needed to focus on the man that actually made feel things. Most of which I never did. Or understood.
"Alright, all set," Marcy announced as she whirled around in the seat. Then she held out her palm to , urging to take it with a nod.
I placed my palm in hers and rose to my feet, adjusting the dress around my body.
She smiled, her eyes sweeping over my fra. "Feel confident, Josie. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror."
"And these shoes," her eyes fell to my brown ankle boots, "are you sure you don’t wanna change them—"
"I feel comfortable in these, Marcy, thank you."
She nodded, her lips stretching in a tight smile. Then holding firmly, she stepped out of the room.
I was very much self-aware as we ascended the stairs, my eyes darting around beneath my thick lashes.
Then I saw him, standing at the floor-to-ceiling window.
My heart started that racing thing again, my body humming along.
Thorne held a glass of wine between his fingers, twirling it elegantly. And when he saw , he took a step forward, handing the glass to the butler.
He walked past the guards that were flanked on both sides of the room, coming straight at with slow, asured steps.
He got to the foot of the stairs, where I stood with Marcy, and quietly, he took my hand.
He dismissed Marcy with a wave, his eyes on the whole ti.
I noticed Marcy take a bow from my peripheral vision, silently backing away.
I sighed, trying to create a distraction for the insane thoughts that had suddenly gone awry in my head.
"You really should learn so proper etiquette, Thorne," I scolded as we started towards the lobby. "Waving her off like that, I don’t know.."
He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that wasn’t dark or sinister. "And you take things too seriously," he retorted calmly. "I just waved her off. What’s etiquette gotta with the fucking equation?"
My cheeks flushed intensely, my body dancing to the tune of his vulgarity again. Against my will.
We got into the car monts later, and were soon on our way to the party.
I still didn’t know what it was about.
The ride was silent, uncomfortable.
Thorne looked out of the window most of the ti, and I just sat there on my own end, twisting and staring at my fingers, while also stealing glances at him from my side vision.
He wouldn’t even look at . Not once.
You see, this is what I ant when I said he confused ...
How was he all up close and personal only hours ago, and now he’s all closed up, barely acknowledging my gorgeous presence there with him...?
Isn’t it confusing?
Cold as fuck one mont, and the next he was lting completely.
He was just... so difficult to understand.
Sighing, I looked out the window. At the trees we drove past. The billboards. The lights. Anything that wasn’t Thorne.
"I fucking hate this," I muttered under my breath.
The car rolled to a stop about half a boring hour later, and as soon as the engine died down, I reached for the door.
I snagged and pushed, but it refused to give.
It was locked.
I whirled around to snap at Thorne, unleash my frustration on him. But he wasn’t there.
I stared in confusion.
A sharp rap on my window had jerking around, and I was shocked to see Thorne standing there.
His lips turned up in a small smirk, he pulled the door open and held it, beckoning out with a slight nod.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I swung my boots out and got caught around the waist, the heat from his strong arm burning through the silk.
He steadied on my feet, and I quickly stepped away from him, trying to get a grip. On my own.
He stared at for a mont, his green eyes almost penetrating.
Then he held out his arm to . "C’mon," he urged, "we have to go in."
Drawing a shaky breath, I moved closer to him and slowly lifted my arm, hesitating.
He clearly wasn’t having it, because he grabbed my arm and slipped it in his without warning.
In a bid to distract myself, I looked around the place as we walked out of the driveway, towards the entrance that was manned by two huge werewolves.
It was a smaller pack house than ours, but it was beautifully structured.
The entryway opened into a wide, open space littered with yellow light bulbs on both sides of the walkway. The walls smooth, polished concrete.
We were imdiately let through the doors, and the mont we stepped into the small hall littered with a moderate crowd, all eyes turned on us.
Thorne’s hands tightened around mine as he stepped into the room.
Then, he did the most unexpected, unlike-him thing.
Few steps into the room, he twirled around effortlessly and pulled against him. Until our lips brushed. Lightly.
My heart fell out of my chest.
Reviews
All reviews (0)