Why do I feel a twinge of disappointment that my betrothed isn’t here? I think I would like to see him in his element after that provocativesocial media post. I think I’d like to sear the image of him into my memory.
I am so uncomfortable for so many reasons, my skin too tight, my breath too shallow. But at least it’s impeccably clean here. The overhead lights aren’t too bright—dim enough to offer a veil of privacy, but bright enough to see everything.
And while pulsing dance music fills this particular room, I took a peek at the vacant rooms down the hallway earlier. They were well-appointed. Quiet. Almost luxurious, if not for the metal posts screwed into the headboards and the leather straps at the foot that looked a bit like medieval torture devices.
But in one corner of this room, there’s a lovely velvet settee, and on it sits a beautiful woman with long blonde hair that cascades all the way down her back and brushes the top of her arse. She’s perched on a man’s knee, and this man looks familiar, too, although I can’t quite place him. I think he may have been at dinner at the McCarthy house as well.
He’s running his hand down her back in long, slow strokes. Soothing. Possessive. And it sparks an ache in my chest I can’t quite identify.
Whatisthat? He… cares for her. There’s a tenderness in his touch that makes me long for something like that myself—something real beneath all the violence and posturing. I wish for a man to look at me that way, like I’m something precious. I wish for someone to rub my back that way, gentle and grounding.
I think if I had somebody willing to do that, I might not be so anti-man after all.
I sip something delicious and non-alcoholic—something Bridget suggested—and it tastes like sugared berries and cream. I’m actually kind of liking being incognito here, though I can’t quite shake the strangeness of it.
For one crazy, wild second, I wonder if they slipped something alcoholic into this drink.
What would it be like being in here with him?
Would he have me caged like that woman in the corner, drinking water from the tips of her Master’s fingers? Would he have me blindfolded, cuffed, tied to a bed, and spread open for his pleasure? Would he?—
Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m thinking about Cavin in any way sexually at all. This isn’t me. This isn’t what I do.
But it will be me, won’t it?
What’s going to be expected of me as Cavin’s wife?
I don’t know shite about his family’s traditions yet, but I know mine well enough. When you marry someone, you’re mated to them. Bound. Bonded for fucking life. Like animals—primal, permanent, with no way out.
My straw hits ice, and I slurp the last dregs of my drink.
Bridget’s eyes are dancing as a handsome young man wearing a partial face mask like Batman, all sharp jawline and mystery, walks over to her. He’s bare-chested, and Christ, what a gorgeous chest it is—all carved muscle and ink.
He bows, reaches for her hand, and kisses the very top of it.
“Dance,” he says in a low, seductive voice.
She smiles, giggles at me, and nods.
Seconds later, she’s whisked away to the dance floor, and I have no idea where she is anymore. The crowd swallows them whole.
I don’t know if I like this.
We came here for a purpose… for a reason. And then I remember my sister telling me she doesn’t want to die a virgin.
Well,thisisn’t where I want her to lose her virginity.
Oh my god, I need to?—
Then a door opens… and the entire temperature of the room shifts.
It’s like we’re in the middle of a college rave and the Gardaí show up. There’s one momentary pause—the eye of a storm. Heads turn, conversations drop to whispers, then silence.
Cavin. Dressed all in black, his eyes absolutely murderous, and he’s staring straight atme.
The waitress pauses, her mouth half open as if about to ask me if I want another drink, before she thinks better of it. She quickly turns and scurries away like a scared little mouse. Even the bartender stops wiping his glass to stare at Cavin.
When I first came here, everything was too much—too bright, too dark, too loud, too crowded. Too many scents and sounds and vibrations moving through the room.
