Page 64 of Born Wicked
It’s all going to be okay,I think to myself as I slip between the black sheets.Everyone is okay. The council is back to full capacity. There are no psychopaths running loose in the city. For once, since I think I came to Chicago, everything is okay.
So, with peace of mind, for maybe the first time since I arrived, I lay my head on the pillow, and immediately fall asleep.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
I keep smoothingmy hands down over my dress. I legitimately feel naked, so I’m trying to reassure myself that the entire supernatural population of Chicago can’t actually see all my private bits.
The dress feels like nothing. It’s the softest, lightest material I’ve ever touched in my life. The skirt is flowy and long, and I’m a little embarrassed how low the neckline dips—nearly to my belly button. The back is the same, exposing most of my spine. And it’s the most ostentatious golden color. I couldn’t be a biggerlook at mebillboard if I tried.
Of course, Elena picked it out.
If it were totally up to me, this entire event would be so much simpler. We need to convey some information to the supernaturals. Give explanations. I don’t know why we couldn’t have done this in jeans, and maybe if we really had to throw some food into the mix, we could have ordered some deep-dish pizza for everyone.
But nothing will be normal when the Godfreys are involved.
I watch Mason as he floats around the room, the guests beginning to arrive. He looks glorious as ever. He’s sporting a pale gray suit, his every hair in just the right place. He’s getting a lot of attention. The news of his death and Resurrection was kept on the down-low while things were so crazy. There’s a lot of excitement in the room for him.
It’s nice not to be looked at like the vile gold digger everyone thought I was at the last event like this. No one is glaring at me. No one is whispering nasty things as I walk by. I think maybe, just maybe, they’re all starting to see me as one of them.
Elena is looking as powerful and elusive as ever. Her dress is a dark green, sparkling. It looks like black smoke is trying to climb it from the ground up. She kind of looks like an evil sea witch – in the most bewitching way. And the black gloves she wears that rise up past her elbows are definitely putting off vixen temptress vibes.
I glance over at Sigrid. Warren stands beside her in his suit, looking very uncomfortable, but happy. Over the last few days, each of the gifted has regained their ability. I can see it on Warren’s face, just how relieved he is that he’s got the barrier back up, protecting the city.
And Sigrid looks lighter. The burden, the weight of what was happening to her people, was wearing her down in a physically expressed way. Once again, she’s the shining, brilliant woman I learned to love so deeply. She looks like the Norwegian goddess she is, donning a white gown and a floor-length fur cloak.
Feeling anxious, my eyes cast back to the door. People are still arriving. But as the hosts, it’s rude to be late…
My aggravation has grown over the past four days. We had our council meeting. We talked about it all, everything. But everyone seemed just a little confused about one thing: why the hell did Roman turn the spotlight on himself, turning it away from me?
I’m a big girl. I’ve always taken care of myself. I’ve always handled my own shit. I’ve had my own back when no one else did.
Why? Why did Roman do that?
My jaw tightens, and my fist curls around the delicate fabric of my skirt.
Why?
Over and over, the question rang through my brain.
I went to the hospital after our meeting. I’ve worked nearly every moment since. But the question hasn’t stopped taking up every corner of my mind since then.
“If you rip that dress, I’m going to sue you for crimes committed against luxury.” Elena’s voice knocks me from my own thoughts for just a moment, but it’s not enough to tear my eyes from the door.
“Sorry,” I say absentmindedly, and I drop the fabric.
“You look like you’re three seconds away from tearing through this crowd if he doesn’t walk through those doors.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, feeling the fire in me ignite thirty degrees hotter.
And right then, a dark figure turns in front of the door and steps inside.
He’s wearing black from head to toe, just like I knew he would be. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone. His black hair falls into his eyes slightly, always a little unruly. And those vivid blue eyes make one quick sweep of the ballroom before they fall on me.
The room feels quiet. I’m not sure when everyone started leaving the party, but suddenly it’s only me in this vast room, and Roman.
His eyes drop down the length of me, slowly. The look in his eyes darkens. It focuses. Intensifies. And slowly, very, very slowly, they rise up to meet mine once again.
My heart is hammering in my chest. My breath seems to be caught somewhere in my throat. And my hands feel slick.