I grit my teeth, realizing I don’t have much of a choice. Everyone here thinks of Dexter as a motherfucking God. Nobody is going to take my side. Even Araminta, whom I’d begun to think of as a friend, has stabbed me in the back already. She probably wouldn’t hesitate before doing it again.
Hating Dexter for pressuring me into doing it, I pull the cellophane off the box of perfume. I unwrap it and spritz it on the inside of my wrists.
“On your neck, too,” Dexter growls next to me. “I want to be able to smell it.”
My lips form a thin line as I follow his instructions, applying even more of the scent that’s already making me feel repulsed. He appears pleased by this, his fingers threading through my hair with surprising gentleness. I inch my body closer to his before I realize what I’m doing. I want more.
“Do you like it?” I ask him, my voice a faint whisper against his hear. “Smell it.”
Dexter’s nose touches my neck and he inhales my scent. I watch his face closely, and I notice the grimace before he does. I have a feeling he’s regretting making me put it on, and my fears are confirmed when he pushes me off his lap, muttering, “You’ll never be her.”
I grit my teeth together, hating him for making me feel inferior yet again. Getting up from his lap, I soon realize he’s done with me for the time being – his eyes are elsewhere, and his attention has shifted back to his friends. Feeling my blood boil with jealousy and anger, I decide to walk away and busy myself with something – or someone – else.
I walk around the party, grabbing a drink from the table laden with booze. I mix cranberry juice with vodka and make a face at the taste of it.
There’s no one for me to talk to, no one who wants to spend time with me. My eyes find my sister in the dark corner of the room, surrounded by boys that are far too old for her. I sigh, feeling more out of place than ever.
“All on your own?”
I look up into a pair of dark brown eyes. The boy towers over me, his gaze filled with dark intent as it locks with mine.
“Yep, all on my own,” I mutter, glancing in the direction of my fiancé. “And you are?”
“More important than you,” he hisses, raising his chin high and extending a hand for me to shake. “Caspian.”
“Oh.” I shake his hand clumsily. He’s handsome, but then again, who isn’t in Eden Falls. It’s like a pre-requisite for living in this town, or so it seems. “Nice to meet you.”
He doesn’t say it back, instead critically watching me, his eyes scrutinizing my appearance. I’m fully prepared for him to insult me when he opens his mouth, but the words coming from his lips end up surprising me.
“Dexter told me all about you, but I must say, he downplayed how beautiful you are.”
My stupid heart soars at the compliment I didn’t realize I needed. It feels good to be acknowledged, and a tell-tale blush creeps into my cheeks, making me look at the floor in embarrassment.
“So tell me, Dexter’s toy,” Caspian goes on. “Are you allowed to play with us? Or is Dexter being a selfish bastard and keeping you all to himself?”
I remember Dexter’s possessive words in the locker room with Lai. How he told him none of the other guys are allowed to touch me. Surely they’ve filled Caspian in? But as I stare at him, I’m half-convinced he’s testing me.
“I’m not the biggest fan of your fiancé,” Caspian goes on, shattering the illusion. “So… answer me.”
“I don’t know,” I lie in a low whisper, and he smirks at me, fingers wrapping around my still bruised wrist.
“Why don’t I help you find out?” he offers, and I don’t even try to resist as he pulls me closer. That drink went straight into my head. I fall into step behind him and he walks me into a room that’s separated from the main crypt. It’s a bedroom, complete with old-fashioned furniture and pristine, clean.
“What’s this?” I can’t help but ask, glancing around in wonder.
“The mourning room,” Caspian explains impassively. “Whenever a male member of Julian’s family dies, the wife must spend a week in this room to mourn him.”
I look around the room. It’s beautiful, but there are no windows, not even in the adjoining bathroom. It gives me the creeps. I wouldn’t want to spend a week locked in here – I’d probably end up losing my mind.
“Why don’t you come here?” Caspian offers, sitting down on the dark purple throw on the bed and patting the fabric. “I want to get a better look at you.”
I hesitate, knowing Dexter wouldn’t like this one bit. But he doesn’t own me. Not yet. And I’m not going to let a bully decide my actions.
I walk to the bed, sitting down next to Caspian. His nearly-black eyes are inspecting me, devouring inch after inch of skin with his gaze holding a promise of darkness. I don’t dare speak up, and he doesn’t ask me to. Instead, he takes his time, letting his eyes wander over every inch of my body – exposed, and hidden.
“Maybe I should get back,” I mutter, starting to get uncomfortable from the intensity of his gaze.
I attempt to get up, but Caspian’s hand snakes around my wrist again, firmly holding me in place. “I don’t think you should, actually. I have as much right to you as he does.”