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Harper laughs at her friend’s enthusiasm and allows herself to be pulled along. She looks over at me, tilting her head in the direction she’s being pulled, as if she’s silently telling me to come too. What she doesn’t realise is that my feet are already moving; the invisible string tethering us together prevents me from being too far away from her.
I tell myself it’s just for her protection, but the deepest part of my brain laughs at that pathetic excuse. In reality, I just can’t bear to be apart from her for too long.
We step into a vast reception room, which has been stripped of its usual furniture. Gone are the comfortable sofas and plush armchairs, replaced by tall bar tables and a scattering of stools along the walls. A raised stage dominates the far end, with a DJ booth precisely in its center, bright lights glinting off the equipment. On either side stands polished metal poles, just waiting for someone to dance on them.
The room pulses with the harsh, erratic glare of the strobe lights, as the dim glow of the small lamps on the tall tables offers little additional brightness. The floor trembles with the deep thumping of the bass, a sound so powerful it seems to vibrate through my bones, yet there’s an entrancing, almost mesmerising quality to the music as it washes over me.
Harper is standing beside me, taking in the mass of people who are on the dance floor, their bodies moving in time with the music, and when she sways her hips, I’m not entirely sure she’s even aware she’s doing it.
Wren turns to her with a big smile on her face and tugs on her hand once more, pulling her into the crowd. Before she allows herself to be pulled away, Harper reaches out with her free hand and squeezes mine, giving me her beautiful smile. It’s not like she’s asking for my permission, more that she doesn’t want to part from me—or maybe that’s my wishful thinking.
As Wren and Harper dance together, Bram sidles closer to me, that cocky smirk of his in place. “You’re so fucking whipped,” he laughs.
He’s just trying to wind me up, so I roll my eyes at him, keeping my thoughts to myself. There’s no point disagreeing with him; he’ll have a rebuttal argument in place already, and it will be never-ending.
As the song changes to something almost sultry, a girl with long black hair climbs onto the stage, and stumbles over to the pole on the right side of the DJ. She’s clearly had at least one too many to drink, but that doesn’t stop her as she begins to spin around the pole in time with the music.
Harper and Wren catch sight of her and make their way closer to the stage, so Bram and I follow, making sure they stay out of trouble. The girl is attracting quite an audience, but she seems almost lost in her own world, moving around the pole as if it’s an extension of herself. She clearly knows how to dance, and it’s not her first time on the pole.
A preppy-looking blond guy is standing beside the stage with a face like a slapped arse, glaring at her. “Maddie, get the fuck down, now!” he shouts, trying to be heard over the music that’s even louder here as we’re next to the speaker.
The girl doesn’t even look his way; she continues dancing around the pole, contorting her body into impressive shapes that seem to get more difficult as the song progresses.
“She is so good,” Harper shouts, though I’m not sure who she’s talking to. “I wish I could do that.”
I reach out and pull her back a step, pressing her spine against my chest as I wrap my arm around her waist to keep her close. I move my lips beside her ear, loving the way she shivers under my touch. “If you want to dance around a pole, I’m the only person who gets to watch.”
She chuckles as she presses her arse into my hard cock, swaying her hips in a fucking maddening way. “Someone is overly possessive.”
I bite her neck, just hard enough to leave a mark. “Too fucking right. I want everyone to know who you belong to.”
Harper doesn’t respond to that verbally, but she continues to rock her hips to the rhythm of the music, grinding against me as we watch the girl on the pole.
The blond guy is still shouting at her, but she’s not even looking his way. When she does glance out into the crowd, pulling her out of the dance for just a few brief moments, her gaze seeks out the man who is leaning against the wall beside us.
His dark-brown hair, with tiny curls at the tips, is a tousled mess, as if he’s been running his fingers through it frequently. He’s a tall, lean figure, and his arms are a canvas of intricate tattoos that creep like dark ivy up his neck. The stark, all-black clothing adds to his brooding presence. Even without seeing the ring glinting on his finger, it’s obvious he’s a Hawk Pledge.
While I continue swaying to the music with Harper in my arms, I lean closer to Bram, making sure he can hear me over the noise. “Who is that?” I motion towards the guy with a nod of my head.
Bram looks over in that direction, seeing who I’m referring to. The whole time I’ve been looking at him, he hasn’t once taken his eyes off the girl on the stage, but his blank expression gives nothing away. Luckily, Bram is a massive gossip, so I’m sure he’ll know.
“That’s Eli Peterson; he’s a second-year Hawk Pledge. If I remember correctly, he’s ranked second, while the blond guy in front of the stage, Matty, is first,” Bram explains, his animated voice making it seem more exciting than it is.
“What aren’t you saying?”
He motions to the girl on the stage. “That’s Maddie. She’s Betrothed to Matty.”
That shocks me, as she hasn’t once acknowledged his presence, let alone him shouting at her. “She keeps looking at Eli,” I point out, which has Bram bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.
He nods quickly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You saw that too? He can’t take his eyes off her.”
I shrug, unable to see why that’s a problem—other than the Betrothal. “So?”
Bram leans in closer as he says, “Eli is her stepbrother.”
Now that makes things more interesting. Harper, who I hadn’t realised was even listening to the conversation, turns and says, “She’s not looking at him like he’s her brother.”
As she says that, Maddie twirls around the pole, her heated gaze locked with Eli’s, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her, despite his expression seeming almost bored. Then again, any good Obsidian Pledge should be able to hide their emotions and intentions, and it’s clear Eli is an expert—well, apart from the obsessive staring that’s giving him away.
