Blair’s heart is racing with excitement. And under all of that, even though Holland is a shield and I can’t read his intention atall, his two brofers’ intentions hum like a live wire. They have ulterior motives, and not a single one of them is being sincere right now.
But it’s clear from their body language they want Blair to feel excited about the whole fucked-up situation they’re planning for Damien Snow—a very important vampire elite.
I don’t know Damien personally, but I know enough about him to know he’s a vicious kind of man. He was the one at the preview last night smelling her fucking neck.
My jaw tightens, and I quickly shoot Cal a message back.
Me: He’s currently setting up something for a woman who was at the preview.
Cal: Anything about us?
Me: We don’t appear to be on his radar right now.
Holland’s only focused on Blair. He wants to sweet-talk her as much as he can to make her willing and compliant. But she has no fucking idea how dark his mind probably is. How devious it all feels, just being able to read Mark’s and Evan’s intentions.
Cal: Don’t do anything stupid. Let’s head back to Worcester in about two hours.
Don’t do anything stupid?It’s starting to feel too fucking late for that.
Across the street, Blair turns slightly. Her hair catches the light. She smiles at Holland like he’s the bridge to everything she wants.
And inside my chest, the bond pulls so hard it feels like it’s tearing something loose.
Tomorrow.
NYC.
Penthouse.
Damien Snow.
None of that sounds good.
If it’s not the auction, it’s against the rules to meet up for anything prior—and even her fairy-tale version of the Selection will be off the rails for good. If it is the auction, I’m out of time anyway. Plus, the mere idea of her going on a trip with anyone but me feels akin to murder.
Three birds, one stone, because really, I’m saving us both here.
Fuck. The narrative you’re spinning sure as hell better hold up later, Kane.
Because there is no version of this where I walk away. And things are about to hit overdrive with absolutely no chance left for reverse.
Blair
My suitcase sits open on the bench at the foot of my bed, and I smooth my hands over a Hermes silk blouse before folding it carefully.
Normally, I would’ve had our housekeeper pack my bags—my mom had even insisted on that—but I don’t know, this trip feels too special to leave it up to anyone else.
Ineedto make sure everything is perfect.I need to make sure I don’t let my mom down.
I set the blouse gently atop a pair of jeans, but before I can grab the next shirt, my phone buzzes on my nightstand.
Holland: Tomorrow’s confirmed. Car will pick you up at 7 a.m. sharp.
I smile, and my pulse flutters inside my chest. Tomorrow, I’m going to New York to spend the evening withDamien Snow, a vampire elite who’s so interested in me he’s made expensive arrangements to see me before the final choosing ceremony.
I found all this out this afternoon when Holland met up with my mom and Bonnie and me while we were shopping. And he waxed poetic about Damien’s impressive penthouse in the middle of Manhattan. Apparently, it sits sixty stories up, and the view of Central Park is unreal.
I can only imagine what it looks like.
