Panic surged behind Quinn’s expression. “A whole cup? Youfinishedthe elixir?”
Wren nodded. “The cup,” she echoed.
Arthur’s eyes widened. “Wren. You’re supposed to drink that over the course of the entire night.”
“We need August,” Quinn groaned, glancing around the cavern. “Where the hell is he?”
“Okay, Wren.” Arthur gave her a light pat on the face, which only made Wren break out into a fit of giggles. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to try to sober up, okay? Can you do that for me?”
“But I feel sogoooooood,” Wren whined. And really—why should she? She could barely remember what had happened, but shecouldremember all the bad feelings that had been plaguing her. Sadness. Panic. Grief. And now all those feelings were gone, replaced by the velvety warmth pooling inside her.
“I’m sure you feelwonderful,” Arthur said, chuckling nervously. “But we need you. The offerings are going to start soon—”
“What happened?”
August’s rough voice cut through their conversation, and then he was there, all tall and brooding andbeautiful. He held Wren’s face in his hands, inspecting her with those piercing gray eyes of his. Wren practically melted into his touch.
“Where the hell have you been?” Quinn asked through gritted teeth.
“I had to sneak away from Edith.” August didn’t even look at Quinn as he spoke, his eyes glued to Wren. “Loughty, darling, can you hear me?”
Wren hummed, nodding her head. “You are…insanely good-looking. I’ve told you that before, right?”
August’s mouth twitched. “Once or twice.”
“Well,” Wren huffed. “I should tell you more often. You are delightful to look at.”
“Okay, enough.” Quinn waved her hand in exasperation. She pointed a finger at August’s chest. “She’s your responsibility. Finda way to sober her up—fast.” And then she gripped Arthur by the wrist and the two of them vanished into the crowd.
“August.”Wren practically groaned his name as she clutched his shirt in her fist, drawing him closer. “I don’t want to sober up.”
August’s expression darkened. “You’ve been drugged, darling. You don’t know what you want.”
Wren continued to sway to the music, all the while keeping her eyes on August. She raised a brow at him, smirking. “Am I in trouble, General Hughes?”
At this, August’s hardened exterior seemed to crack, and he was unable to stifle the slight smirk rising to his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes as he shook his head in disapproval. “Christ, Loughty…” he muttered.
Wren let out a cackle of laughter, grabbing August by the hand, pulling him in closer. “Dance with me.”
He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder, eyes searching. “If Edith sees—”
“Then she’ll see that I’m a perfectly well-adjusted Demien partaking of all the revelry Equinox has to offer,” Wren interjected, spinning them both around and around, nearly tripping over herself. Through the flurry of color and movement, she could see the outline of August’s smile, though there was something else contorting his expression, an unmistakable twinge of agony burning behind his storm-gray eyes.
“The offerings are about to begin,” August whispered. “We have to be ready for when Quinn detonates the explosion. If you’re not near Arthur when that happens—”
“I know, I know.” Wren’s head whirred, but only for a brief moment. She shook off the sobering wave with a twirl, unwilling to let go of her momentary euphoria. “But in the meantime, we have to blend in, don’t we?”
August’s body tensed against Wren. The muscles in his jaw tightened. He was clearly clinging to the last remaining threads of restraint. “It’s very difficult to say no to you.”
Wren gently gripped his hands, guiding them toward her waist. His fingers squeezed, the feeling of him touching her only heightened by the elixir still circulating through her system.
Wren leaned toward him. Her voice was rough and husky when she spoke again. “Then don’t.”
All at once, August’s control slackened. A cautious smile rose to his lips as he tugged her closer, a slight flush sweeping over his cheeks. He swayed in time with the music, muscles relaxing with every thump of the drum. With August beside her, all of Wren’s senses doubled. Touch. Smell.Taste.August was close enough that she could press her lips against his neck, dragging them down to his collarbone. He arched his head back as she laid a kiss on the soft plane of his neck.
No one noticed. Or, perhaps, theydidnotice, and they simply were too drunk to care. The same intoxication that flowed through Wren permeated every inch of the cavern. Every Demien seemed alight with a glowing euphoria.
But then a voice cut through Wren’s haze. Deep. Grating. Demanding to be heard.
