Grunting under my breath, I chug down the rest of my drink and glare at Prince Damion as he chats with Luna Layla. If I could just get my hands around his neck, he'd be dead meat. I can't stand him.
Chapter 11 - Delilah
Pulling up the zipper on the side of my dress with a disgruntled huff, I glare at the mirror as if my reflection is my own worst enemy.
A party for the prince?
“Pfft!” I stick out my tongue and imagine my parents’ faces in the mirror, and I'm the rebellious child who's earned their disdain.
They didn't even bother to throw a party for me when I announced my marriage to Hunter, yet the prince is getting one in his honor. It's not that I mind, since I hardly enjoy the unnecessary attention. But it feels like their grandest act of spite because Hunter isn't the alpha they hoped I'd bring home as my fated mate. I ran off and eloped with someone who doesn't have status to his name, and my only saving grace is having a sacred bond with him.
As if that bond means anything!
It's not like it stopped him from breaking my heart before, and behind these closed doors, he's nothing to me.
But that kiss yesterday….
I groan as my inner wolf reminds me of the chaste kiss we shared to maintain appearances in the pack center. As far as Shadow Fang is concerned, Hunter and I are a couple in love, and that's the only thing keeping my parents from breathing down my neck about marrying the prince.
That ship has sailed, but the prince didn't board the ship and still sticks around, lapping up my parents’ graciousness and hospitality as if he doesn't have a kingdom to run in Europe.
What nonsense!
My body's response to Hunter's lips when they met mine was completely absurd, too. Everything happening around me seems to be distracting me from my real mission, which is uncovering the truth from the witch, Gwen.
She's in Scarborough now, and I haven't found time to speak to her yet. From preparations for the party to trying to keep my distance from Hunter, both physically and emotionally, I've been neglecting my main mission.
One of the things that sold the idea of the fake marriage to Hunter was staying in the States and helping my friends, but now I'm forced to keep up appearances with my fake husband at a party thrown for the prince.
I roll my eyes at the ceiling, dragging my feet and grabbing my heels from the wardrobe. They remain dangling in my hand as I step out of my bedroom, and I glance at Hunter's door, wondering if he's ready to go. I still have a few last-minute catering things to sort out before the party starts, so I decide not to wait for him. I'll meet him at the party.
I knock on his door, but there's no reply, only the distant sound of water pattering on the tiles in the shower.
“Hunter!” I yell out, my voice carrying over the shower spray.
“Yeah?!” he returns from inside the shower.
“I'm heading to the hall. I need to double-check the kitchen!”
“Okay! I'll meet you there!”
Nodding as if he can see me through the door, I pad my way out of my house, hating the dress, despising tonight's festivities, resenting my own skin.
“Ugh!” I groan toward the sky as soon as I'm outside, hating everything that's going on around me.
It's like I can't catch a break.
Stomping my way to the town hall, I make a face that borders on disgust at the fairy lights hanging on the trees, revolted by the lavish party being thrown for the prince when my parents have barely spoken to me about my marriage.
As if ignoring it will just make it go away. I just have to hang on a little longer until the prince leaves and I'm in the clear. Then I can decide on what to do about Hunter.
I can't have him around forever; my heart simply can't bear being faced with the one thing that ripped it to shreds the first time around. Perhaps it's somewhat of a respite, throwing myself into other things that keep me distracted, like checking the kitchen for final touches on the feast planned for tonight, before finally slipping on my heels.
When soft orchestral music starts playing on the speakers and the lights dim in the hall, Father takes the stage to welcome everyone just as the prince arrives with his entourage of guards. He's praised again for gracing us with his divine presence, and I internally roll my eyes at the way Father can't stop singing the man's praises.
I glance at the door, which has been closed, noticing that Hunter hasn't arrived yet. Biting my bottom lip as I grow another layer of irritation at his lateness, I sense someone watching me as the music becomes louder and the pack members make their way to the open space in the front of the hall for an opening dance.
“Where are you, Hunter…?” I mutter irritably under my breath, startled when an unfamiliar hand touches my shoulder.
