Immortal Consequences(97)

A shrill panic coursed through August’s limbs. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, dropping his hands away from her, and stepped backward. Whether the crowd around them had noticed was of no consequence to him.

He had stopped noticing the rest of the room the moment he had seen Wren.

“What is it you want from me?” He clenched his hands into tight fists, his fingers trembling. “What is it you expect? A loud profession of love? An abrupt change in my demeanor?”

“Stop it.” Wren lifted her hand as if to reprimand him, and August snatched her wrist in one swift movement, pulling her closer.

“I can’t change,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice startling him. “I am who I am.”

“I’m not asking you to change,” Wren replied breathlessly. She kept her gaze fixed on him, challenging him with narrowed eyes. “All I’m asking for is honesty.”

“Honesty comes with a price. And I’ve been as open and honest with you as I can be without risking—” He cut himself off, dropping her wrist. The words pressed against his throat, an overwhelming feeling threatening to unravel his restraint.

No.

Not now.

“Risking what?” pressed Wren. “Please, August. I know—I know there’s something you aren’t telling me. Ever since I met you, I’ve felt it. This…resistance. This wall between us. But if you could just open up to me, if you could just tell me about your past—”

Wren was caught off guard, her words dropping midsentence as August pulled her in, resuming the dance. This time, he held her without caution, without the restraint from before, fully allowing himself to feel her.

He crossed the threshold and allowed his thoughts to reach into hers.

You have to promise me you’ll be careful.

Wren tensed, her face contorting in confusion.

Don’t try to change the subject—

Just listen to me. He squeezed her hand. Don’t try to be the hero. Especially not until we figure out what’s going on with the eliminated nominees. There’s no telling who is behind this, and until we talk to the others, anybody is a suspect.

She scoffed. I’m more than capable of protecting myself.

I know you are. August inhaled a sharp breath. But I just need you to promise me that whatever happens, whatever you see, you’ll protect yourself. And only yourself.

She shook her head. But—

Please. He begged. Just promise me.

Wren opened and shut her mouth, blinking rapidly, and then nodded. She spoke the next two words in a breathless whisper.

“I promise.”

He spun her around, his hand placed firmly on her back, and dipped her toward the floor. Her breath caught in her throat, her hand tightening over his. Maybe she thought he might drop her, that he intended to humiliate her in front of everybody. But he didn’t. He held her tight, his gaze unwavering, and brought her back up in a graceful arch until her face was mere inches from his own. It was a dizzying feeling, being this close to her. Knowing just how many rules he was breaking. How many lines he had crossed.

“The song’s over,” Wren whispered, her breath grazing the side of his neck. “I think we can stop now.”

But August didn’t drop her hand. He felt paralyzed, a sweltering panic rushing up his throat, taking hold of his body. He knew that if he let her go, if he didn’t hold on, he might lose her forever.

“August—”

“Don’t trust anybody,” he whispered into her ear, a desperate last plea. “Not even those closest to you. Not even those who’ve shown you kindness. Not even those who appear to be on your side.”

“Why are you saying all of this?”

“Because,” August whispered, reluctantly dropping her hand. He leaned forward, his lips brushing her skin as he placed a torturous kiss against her cheek. He allowed himself to dip into her mind once more.

It’s all I have left.

And with that, he was off, sulking across the ballroom and toward the large wooden doors. He could hear the distant sound of Wren calling after him, the music rushing against his ears, resuming once again. The other students watched as he made his way out of the ball. His actions would have repercussions. His words carrying a weight only he could understand. And though he would have done anything to change the past, August knew he could no longer escape what had already been set in motion.

43

Emilio

Emilio wasn’t a fan of parties. Maybe it was the loud music or the forced socialization. Or maybe it was simply because last time he’d been dragged to a party…he’d died. So, despite the festive decorations and overall excitement buzzing around the room, he couldn’t help but be in a bit of a dour mood.

“Oh, come on. Just one more dance. You owe me.”

Scarlett was standing in front of Olivier, arms crossed and face twisted into a scowl. She was wearing a frilly pink dress that made her look like a cupcake—a beautiful cupcake, but a cupcake nonetheless.

Olivier sighed, swishing a champagne flute around in his hands.

“Scarlett, dear…I escorted you to the ball. I danced our agreed-upon three songs. I even held your hand while Jamie was looking to help you make him jealous. I think I’ve done more than enough for one night.”

She pouted her bright-fuchsia lips in annoyance. “But you’re my date.”