Page 79

On my way, Bow-Peep.

See you soon, Thorne.

“Hang on, Vance. I’m coming,” I mutter out loud, gripping the wheel.

The Academy is only a short ride from the townhouse, and the moment I pull into the courtyard, I see her before I have even fully stopped the car.

The air leaves my body in one violent rush.

She is standing under the stone archway that frames the entrance to Belrose, and she is nothing like the Ellise that I see every day. There is no plaid skirt, no shiny boots, and no oversized sweats to hide behind. This is an entirely different version of her.

She is a vision.

The dress is black silk, floor-length, falling over her curves in a way that makes the word flowing feel entirely inadequate. A slit runs up the length of one leg—lethal in its simplicity. Her hair is completely down, moving slightly in the evening breeze, waves framing her face in a way that makes it very difficult to remember what I was thinking about approximately thirty seconds ago.

I’m about to register what else is different, noticing there is no signature bow in her hair tonight, when she turns slightly to gather the train of her gown.

The dress dips low at the back. An open plunge exposes the elegant pale curve of her spine, the line of her shoulder blades, and the shape of her body that I have had absolutely no business thinking about as much as I have.

And there, sitting right at the very base of that plunge, at the small of her back, is an oversized white bow.

My throat goes completely dry.

She found a way to be exactly herself—a brilliant and defiant way to wear her armour.

I get out of the car, fully aware that I am staring at her like a fool, but unable to do anything about it. I walk across the stone toward her.

“You look…” The word catches hard in my throat. I let out a rough exhale as I try to pull myself together. “Breathtaking.” It barely makes it out. “You look breathtaking, Vance.”

A small smile crosses her face, a faint color rising in her cheeks.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes move over me slowly, tracing the clean lines of my tuxedo with a careful deliberateness that she isn’t bothering to disguise tonight.

“You look…” She pauses, as the corner of her mouth curves. “Pretty good yourself, Thorne.”

I reach out and take her hand, as we begin walking toward the car. I pull back slightly, needing to examine the full effect of her again.

My mind is blown.

How the hell am I going to contain myself all night?

“Where did you find that dress?” I ask.

She glances down at the silk, something unsure flickering across her face. “Does it matter?”

“No,” I say honestly. “It’s perfect.” I turn her gently. “It’s phenomenal.”

“Thank you.” Her voice carries something quiet and rare—something I have not heard from her before. “I have to admit… I don’t think I’ve ever felt more beautiful.”

I stop completely and simply look at her.

Exquisite.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful,” I tell her, dropping all the sarcasm and every last bit of my defenses. “And I mean that.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, and then she looks down.