I don’t know where I’m going until I pass the old wine cellar leading down to the Undercroft. I wrench open its door, descending the dark steps into the earth.
Jasper Webb passes me in the hallway, skeleton hands tucked in his pockets. He gives me a friendly nod, which I ignore, in favor of hammering on Cat’s door.
She opens it a moment later, looking drowsy and startled. She must have been sleeping in. Her hair is a bird’s nest and she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Even in this state of fury, I feel my cock twitching in my pants at the sight of her small, bra-less breasts loose under the shirt, and her bare legs extending beneath its waffled hem.
“Dean?” she says, confused. “What is it?”
“Do you want to go to the dance with me?” I say.
“The Christmas dance?” Cat asks, as if there’s another one.
“Yes,” I hiss, impatient and already regretting this.
Regretting it because . . . if she says no, I’m going to have to burn this whole school to the ground.
Cat hesitates.
The seconds stretch out torturously. I’m about to abandon this whole idea and leave when at last she says, very softly, “That would be nice.”
I search her face, trying to see if she really means that.
Cat has grown up a lot in the time I’ve known her, but right now she looks just as young and scared as she did on the very first day of school.
“Alright,” I say gruffly. “See you tonight, then.”
“See you tonight,” she whispers.
I leave, my guts still churning with anger.
But maybe just a little bit less than before.
16
Cat
It’s Christmas Eve.
I’m dressing for the dance with Anna, Chay, and Rakel.
We’re in Anna and Chay’s dorm room, which is one of the largest and prettiest in the Solar, where all the female Heirs have their rooms. They have a stunning view over the cliffs straight down to the dark, rolling ocean.
Anna’s battered ballet slippers dangle from the footboard of her bed, and several of Chay’s tattoo designs hang on the walls. Chay’s a master of classic pin-up style, as evidenced by the large Bettie Page portrait on her right thigh.
On Chay’s nightstand sits an 8x10 photograph of her and Ozzy riding four-wheelers, both of them covered in mud, only recognizable by the white slashes of their smiles as they laugh together.
Rakel and Chay are poring over each other’s substantial makeup kits, while Anna unwinds her waist-length blonde hair from a thousand straw curlers.
Chay’s brought out a bottle of pear brandy, which she informs us is a crucial part of any Christmas celebration. I took one shot and that was quite enough for me—I’m already giggly and much more talkative than usual.
Music blasts from Anna’s scratchy portable speaker.
“Why does that thing make every song sound like it’s playing on the radio in 1942?” Chay demands.
“ ‘Cause you’ve knocked it in the sand ten times over!” Anna scolds her.
“I’m not the only one who knocked it in the sand,” Chay huffs.
“That doesn’t make it play any better,” Anna says.
“I’ve got a speaker down in our dorm,” Rakel says. “I could grab it.”
“Nah.” Chay shakes her head. “Don’t bother. This thing works alright and it’s balls cold outside—you don’t want to walk all that way.”
“You got a date for the dance?” Anna asks Rakel.
“Sort of.” Rakel shrugs. “I told Joss Burmingham I’d go with him. Just as friends, though,” she hastens to add.
Joss is in our Interrogation class.
“You didn’t tell me that!” I cry.
“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Rakel says, with a surly scowl. “I don’t like him or anything.”
“God no!” Anna says. “We would never suspect you of liking someone.”
“Ares and me are going as friends, too,” Chay tells Rakel. “Just so neither one of us is a third wheel to Anna and Leo.”
There’s an awkward pause as everyone looks at me out of the corner of their eyes.
I know what they want to ask, and I’m already blushing.
“I’m going with Dean,” I admit.
“Like an actual date?” Chay says, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh . . . I think so,” I say.
Rakel knows I’ve been out every single night this month, so she has a pretty good idea that Dean and I have been seeing each other regularly. And from the state of my hair when I get home, I also think she knows what most of our previous “dates” consisted of. She looks even more skeptical than Chay.
Only Anna smiles at me encouragingly. “You know, Dean’s been acting halfway human lately. Maybe he’s grown up a little. Haven’t we all?”
“Maybe . . .” Chay says slowly. “But you know, you can’t turn a wolf into a puppy.”
“That’s alright.” I shrug. “I don’t want him to be a puppy.”
All the girls spend an hour or more on their hair and makeup, Anna unleashing a torrent of curls from their wrappers and Chay twisting her reddish-blonde hair up in a sleek chignon. Rakel puts hers in a spiky faux-hawk that makes her look more Viking than ever.
I wear my curls parted on the side and smoothed down into waves, a bit like one of Chay’s pin-up girls. My gown is a simple crimson silk, and I paint my lips the same shade.
The other three girls look utterly stunning by the time they’re done. Rakel’s dress is an electric violet color, short and punky. Chay’s wearing a long white sheath with a panel down the back that looks like a cape. And Anna is dressed in black as usual, so gauzy and transparent that she floats along like an ethereal witch.
I feel plain next to all that beauty.
And I’m strangely nervous to spend an evening with Dean outside of the Bell Tower.
Is he actually planning to talk and dance with me tonight, like a normal couple?
I put the leather collar around my neck as usual.
It’s a lot more noticeable with the low cut of my gown. I see Chay eyeing it, but for once she doesn’t demand an explanation.
There’s a knock at the door. Anna answers, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss Leo.
“You’re too gorgeous,” he says. “I’m not gonna make it through the night.”
“I’ll resuscitate you,” Anna laughs.
Ares stands just outside the doorframe, darkly handsome despite the fact that his suit is neither as expensive nor as well-fitting as Leo’s. He holds out an elbow to Chay, who links her hand through.
Chay had a crush on Ares once upon a time, but it’s clear from the platonic tone of their greeting that no lingering romantic interest remains. I don’t think it was ever there on Ares’ side. Actually, I thought he might have feelings for Zoe before Miles came along, but Zoe swore up and down that was never the case.
“He never flirted with me one time,” Zoe told me.
“Yeah, but he was at the library with you constantly . . .”
“Well,” Zoe had said, giving me a mysterious look, “if you want to know my secret theory . . .”