We cut through the crowd. The sea of tuxedos and gowns parts for us, instinctual fear moving them out of our path. I catch eyes. Sienna Montgomery looks like she’s swallowed a lemon. The board members who used to treat me like furniture while I worked on their publicity now look at me with a mix of awe and terror.
"Gabriel."
A group stands near the fireplace, radiating a different kind of energy. It’s amused and confident and like they couldn’t give less of a fuck what anyone here thinks.
Cohen with a glass of bourbon, his arm wrapped around a woman with dark hair, wide eyes, and fair skin. She looks like what I imagine Snow White would if she was real.
Emerald Astor.
"Cohen," Gabriel greets him.
"You know how to make an entrance," Cohen says, his grin sharp. He turns to me. "Blair. You look stunning."
"Thank you."
"This is Emerald," Cohen says, staring down at her like he’s forgotten the rest of us exist.
Emerald offers a shy, sweet smile. She doesn't look like she belongs in a room full of demons and terrors, but with the way Cohen is shielding her body with his own, I doubt anyone would dare get close enough to bite.
"It's nice to meet you," she says softly. "Cohen talks about Gabriel all the time."
"Yikes," I say.
"I know, right?" she whispers with a little laugh, glancing up at her husband.
"I assume it's mostly complaints about his god complex," a deep voice adds from behind us.
“You’d know all about god complexes,” Gabriel rumbles out from beside me before flipping someone off.
I turn to see a man approaching who looks like violence wrapped in a tuxedo. I recognize him instantly from the night at Red Rum. Cole Callahan.
Beside him is a tall brunette who’s much younger than he is. I’m starting to notice a theme with these guys.
I don't know her, but she’s looking at Cole the same way I look at Gabriel—like he hung the moon and she’s the only one allowed to touch it.
"Callahan," Gabriel nods. "And Fallon. Good to see you both."
"Hollis," Cole says, offering a curt nod. His dark eyes slide to me, assessing but respectful.
"The white is a power move," Fallon says, her smile genuine as she looks me over. She leans in slightly, like we’re sharing asecret. "Wearing that into this room? You’re definitely my kind of woman."
"I figured subtlety was overrated," I say.
"Overrated and boring," she agrees.
She winks, and the sharp edge of my anxiety dulls. Gabriel pulls me closer, his heat seeping through the silk of my dress, and the group naturally tightens its formation. They create a barrier, a line in the sand that separates the predators from the prey.
I stand in the middle of them—the Savage Society, Gabriel, Cohen. The monsters under the bed of every elite in this room. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel like an outsider.
I feel insulated. Protected.
I feel like I’ve finally found a pack of wolves who accept me because the biggest wolf in the forest claimed me.
Gabriel doesn't seekpeople out. It’s a masterclass in domination, what he does. He stands in one spot, his hand never leaving my body—sometimes on my waist, sometimes drifting to my hip, sometimes the back of my neck, but always heavy, always possessing—and lets them come to us.
They line up to kiss the ring.
"So happy for you both."
