I shake her offered hand. “Mrs. Hastings, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Please, call me Claire. This dress is simplystunning, who’s the designer?”
“Um, I’m not sure, sorry.”
“If you find out, please let me know—if I can manage look half as good as you do in their design, I’ll be happy as a lark.” Her genuine joy is impossible to resist.
“Mom—this is the girl I was telling you about.”
“The Bloodwitch!” she gasps, resting her hand on my arm. “How are you holding up, honey? I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now.” Is this the first time someone’s asked me how Ifeelabout all this shit?Jesus that’s a depressing thought.
“I’m okay, all things considered,” I shrug, flicking my eyes to Killian.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She says it like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t punch me in the chest so hard my heart forgets to beat. “Killian, I want you to help her if she needs anything, okay? Fate asks so much of us from this life, but sometimes you grow so tired of being strong.” The way they look at each other with resigned sadness, like they both know how heavy that bone-deep exhaustion weighs on your bones when you’ve had to be strong for too long, make my eyes heat with the threat of tears.
To have a mom like her…
But Killian’s voice stops me from getting lost in longing. “Nyx, would you like to dance?” He looks down at me with that same resigned sadness, like he already expects me to turn him down again.
“Yeah, Killian. I’d like that,” I say softly. His lips part, and then curl into a wide grin.
“I owe my mom a dance first, but I’ll find you after?”
I nod as he leads her to the dance floor, but Preston catches my eye when he realizes I’m all alone. His predatory gaze is devoid of the warmth his wife had.
“Ms. Byrke!” Cyrus peeks around him and his moth splits into a wide, smarmy grin when he sees me that I really, really want to wipe off his face. “Join us, we were just talking about Cyrus’s plans for the Training curriculum next year.” I quite literally could not give a single fuck about what Cyrus wants, but Tori, and more recently Roth’s, words of warning replay in my mind. I promise myself that after playing nice with these assholes I’m going to find Ramsey and we’re going to pull an Irish goodbye, get into sweatpants, and God help anyone who tries to stop us from drinking the memories of this night away.
Cyrus steps forward and beckons me over. “Nyx—Ms. Byrke,” he corrects himself ruefully. Cute. “I don’t believe you’ve met my mother, Naomi.” It’s not until then I realize Thane and Lutherare standing behind their group, and Soren’s nowhere to be seen with his wife. Silent and looming, he’s still enormous, still intimidating, but I can tell he’s not healed all the way. I finally worked up the courage during class last week to ask Thane how Luther was, and when he began listing off what I’d done to him, it made me sick. Any one of those things alone could have killed someone else, but somehow he survived all of them.
He’s still a grumpy asshole, but I’m kind of in awe.
“Cyrus, you weren’t exaggerating at how beautiful she is! I’ve been eager to meet you ever since he came home singing your praises.” I never went to my high school prom, but I imagine it’d go something like this: Naomi fawning over us as we stand awkwardly next to each other, pulling out her camera and telling us to kiss. The thought makes bile rise in my throat, which I try swallow inconspicuously. Unlike the genuine affection between Killian and his mom, the way Cyrus preens under her praise only confirms my suspicion that he’s a spineless momma’s boy.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” I grit out with a brittle smile at Cyrus. Luther’s eyes connect with mine briefly as the rest of his family ignores my discomfort, and I take my chance to interrupt the nauseating display of “boy mom” narcissism.
“How have you been, Luther?” I ask awkwardly. Everyone but Preston, who’s avidly watching this shitshow, looks at me like I’ve just sharted myself.
Even Luther looks confused when he answers with a stilted, “Fine.”
Cyrus clears his throat to remind everyone the world revolves around him and launches into a monologue about the changes he’ll be making to the training program next year as the new assistant coach on campus.
“I can’t believe Carrick still has a job, honestly. He was past his prime when I was a student.”
“And how long ago was that?” I ask.
He stands straighter and puffs out his chest. “I’ve been a Junior Councilman for four years now.”
Preston raises his glass in a mock toast. “I hope we don’t lose you to a life of teaching, Cyrus. Tough to walk away from first pick of the ripest crop each year. Maybe you can put in a good word for me as an adjunct.” He winks at me, and I nearly lose the contents of my stomach as Cyrus and Marcus laugh along with him while Naomi merely rolls her eyes at me.
“Come now, gentlemen!” she admonishes, like they’ve just picked their boogers at the table instead of casually joking about abuses of power. Thane’s head is tilted back against the wall among a cloud of white smoke and Luther’s scowling with a look of disgust when I glance at them.
Alright, so the guy who had a psychotic break and tried to kill me has more integrity than the leaders of our government.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies.” Hopefully that’s a good enough lie they won’t question why I’m practically running away. This time, no one stops me as I get two glasses of champagne and hug the walls, sneaking around the edge of the crowds until I finally feel the cool evening breeze through the massive doors leading to the patio. I haven’t been out here since the nightmare that was Samhain, but my heart beats faster with the hope it might be different tonight.
It takes me a few minutes to make my way around the many corners and alcoves, but eventually I find him. Ramsey’s devastating in his tux, long hair swept back, revealing his scars as he leans back against the stone wall. I don’t think he’s ever been more handsome.
