ChapterTwenty-Two
Alex
McLaughlin Chateau sits just on the water of Macedon Lake, appearing more like a romantic getaway than a place where a teenager might host a sick Halloween party. However, I can admit the charming castle has its appealing qualities, especially for such a dark holiday. Spiral towers rise on either side of the fortress, with charcoal gray stones bruised from weather—or maybe even set up like that on purpose—giving the structure just the right edge to lure any wayward wanderer inside.
Water laps at the pier, the sound of it lacing beneath the boom of music knocking through the front doors. Security guards stand at the main entryway and are likely positioned in the shadowed areas as well. Dark figures glide in the surrounding lawn area, appearing more like ghostly apparitions than protectors. All the families are on edge. And for good reason.
I’m on edge too.
Inside the great castle, Soren and Tomas flank either side of me as we wander through the balloon archway. Black and orange decorations of every flavor hang in the corridor leading to the ballroom, where the marble floor is packed with people. A vaulted ceiling rises sharply overhead, giving the space more depth despite the crowded area in front of the DJ booth.
“Looks like the theme this year is skeletons,” Soren observes while tapping his sword. “I look like an idiot in this Renaissance crap.”
“We look different,” Tomas says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s a good thing.”
I look between the two of them, admiring the Shakespearean garb I requested they wear to match my rendition of Lady Macbeth. My mischievous smirk isn’t lost on Tomas as I adjust his collar and smooth my hands down the front of his jacket. “I think it’s charming.”
He mirrors my grin. “Then that’s all that matters.”
Soren rolls his eyes and gestures to a nearby table. “At least let me get drunk before you make me spout sonnets.” He extends his arm and adds pointedly, “My lady.”
Tomas groans as Soren and I drift away. Many students are already three sheets to the wind when we reach the table. Shots of whiskey line the end of the table, and I scoop up two. Before Soren can grab one, I shoot them both back, drawing a look of curiosity from him. “Well.”
“Well, what?” I grab another shot and tip it back, cringing against the pinching taste. “You going to get smashed with me or what?”
Soren grins that dashingly handsome smile that makes me weak in the knees. It’s a terrible effect, but it’s a welcome feeling, especially with the whiskey already swirling in my gut. Tomas appears at my left and reaches over me. I sneak my hands around his waist and slide my fingers over his pockets, feeling for bottles.
He nuzzles into my neck. “Right here?”
“Maybe,” I tease. “I want to make up for the other night.”
He hums. “What do you mean?”
My eyes roam over his shoulder and focus on Soren. “Let’s go dance.”
“Would my lady like something to take with her to the dance floor?”
I giggle and nod. “Something fruity.”
“Like Tomas isn’t fruity enough?”
Tomas shoots a warning glance at Soren. “Easy, kid. I can knock you off your feet.”
“I think Alex would like that too much.”
I hide my amused smile on Tomas’s shoulder. Soren is right—that is something I’d enjoy watching. And not for the reason he might think.
Fast-paced EDM surrounds us on the dance floor. Soren holds a martini glass to my lips while his free hand floats to my waist. I take the glass in a fluid motion and look up at him through heavy lashes, giving him my most appealing smirk. Behind me, Tomas grazes my thigh.
The whiskey is loosening me up enough to keep me from caring. With enough bodies around us, we’re in a circle of our own making, reminding me of the party where Tomas gave me molly. I yearn to feel like that again, sipping more of my fruity liquor drink to help the sensation along. Wiggling my hips against Tomas invites him to push hard against my ass and I grab Soren’s collar, yanking him close enough for me to whisper in his ear.
“Touch me.”
To show him I’m serious, I lift the hem of my skirt and expose my white panties. That’s Soren’s biggest thing—delicate and white. He might talk dirty and ask for the filthiest acts, but he’s deeply drawn to my innocence, much like the others. I see how his eyes light up and grin when he slides his hand between my thighs.
I grab Tomas’s hand and invite him to do the same, leaning my weight against him as they explore the lace of my panties. My mind swirls with ideas of how to get them to fight, but the way they’re touching me interrupts my flow. Fluid dancing transforms into short bucks of desperation. The music is too loud for anyone to hear me moan, but I know Soren and Tomas can feel the vibration from how hard they’re pressing against me.
We do this for a few songs, their fingers exploring beneath my panties and stroking through my folds. I lose my grip on the martini glass and stumble forward, slumping into Soren.