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Obviously, this girl has been trained to sniff out potential even if it’s not in plain sight, and I respect that.
But I don’t have time to waste on her tonight.
I’ve got a job to do, and I won’t be distracted by the way that tight black bodysuit clings to her curves, or the long, toned legs encased in fishnet stockings and pretty feet in expensive heels.
She’s wearing a headband with ears on her well-cared for and perfectly styled hair.
A sexy cat. How original.
She’d probably make a decent girlfriend for a while. I can see the entire relationship we would have unfolding in my mind. Nothing long-term or serious, but she’d be a pleasant enough plaything to drag into my bed for a short time. The crazy would set in when she realized she couldn’t untrain me to be an uncaring asshole even after I’d fucked her a few dozen times. It would be dramatic and unpleasant. She’d feel like I wasted her time, and she’d be right.
I know she’s not for me.
She doesn’t know that, though.
Her blue eyes brighten when my gaze lands on her, and she eyes my mask with interest. It’s a gouged skull with deep, empty eye sockets that bleed blue all the way down to the mouth, which is turned up in a wicked grin.
“Death of the middle class,” I answer dryly.
Her eyebrows rise, but her eyes dim with confusion.
I barely had any interest in her, but any glimmer I might have had wanes. “A blue blood.”
She smiles without comprehension and nods politely, confirming my suspicion that she must be a townie. She’s not bright enough to go to this school, and she’s certainly not familiar with the campus lore. “Can you drink in that thing?” she asks.
I stare at her for a moment, the empty nothingness of my mask’s black eye sockets a mirror of the empty expression she would find underneath if I weren’t wearing it. “No, I can’t drink with a mask covering my entire face.”
“Right.” Self-consciously, she tucks a chunk of her glossy hair back behind her ear. “Um… maybe you should take it off,” she says with a brave, fragile smile that tells me just how quickly I could break her spirit.
Forget a brief relationship. In one night, I could decimate this pretty kitty and leave her with issues she would carry into her next few relationships.
Luckily for her, I’m not interested in making an impression.
“I could get us drinks,” she offers. “Maybe we could… go somewhere quieter and—”
I don’t bother letting her finish. “No, thanks.”
She’s quiet for several seconds, then she says, “Do you have a girlfriend or something?”
Maybe I should be honest and let her grapple with the reality that she just isn’t liked by someone despite her charms, but she feels so unfairly matched, I take pity on her and lie. “Yes.”
Relief lightens her expression. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense.” She flashes me a smile, her confidence back in place. “Too bad.” She gives me one last flirty look, then, mercifully, fucks off and leaves me alone.
Now that the cat girl isn’t intent on distracting me, I turn my focus to the leader of this particular pack—Kyle Roarke.
Kyle is one of the most generic people I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. The fabric of his entire personality seems to be scraps he stole from others and stitched together into what he thought would be popular.
I get it. Not everyone can be the genuine article, and most people probably adapt little pieces and parts from those they admire, but Kyle is so fucking artless about it, he should have to pay royalties to the people he rips off.
Who told this asshole Silvan was going to be a Viking tonight?
He’s a shabbier version, of course.
Silvan’s costume is high quality with real fur and gold accents a true Viking would pillage for. Silvan has known what he wanted his costume to be for a while and grew his hair out in preparation, so even his long Viking hair is authentic.
Kyle’s hair is short and he lacks the foresight—not to mention the dedication—to prepare for a one-night role with such commitment. He’s wearing a godawful wig, nylon and frizzy, with a shine that makes him look even cheaper than he is.
Silvan looks like he stepped off a ship ready to pillage villages. Meanwhile, Kyle looks like what you’d get if you ordered a Viking on Wish.
