Page 137 of Lured By Shadows

The shift was jarring. In the car, he’d barely spoken or even looked at me. Here, surrounded by people, he was animated, charming, and loud.

I stared down at the cup. The smell was awful, syrupy and burning at the same time. My stomach turned, but I didn’t say anything. I tilted my head back and drank it anyway, swallowing quickly just to get it over with. The alcohol burned its way down, unpleasant, but the distraction was welcome. I set the empty cup down on the nearest surface without caring where it ended up.

“Cheers,” Carter said, tossing his back too. He let out a loud burp immediately after, laughing at himself like it was charming instead of disgusting.

Then his arm slid around my waist, and I stiffened.

“Now, c’mere, love,” he said, already pulling me closer as he steered us deeper into the house.

His touch wasn’t reassuring. It was casual in the worst way, his hand resting against my hip like he was already bored of holding it there. As we moved, his fingers wandered, tracing my side and my lower back like he was claiming territory rather than touching me. My stomach flipped uneasily, making me wish I could pull away without making a scene.

Just a few hours, I told myself. Just enough to prove a point to Culver.

We stopped constantly. Carter greeted what felt like half the people in the room, his voice lifting, his laughter coming easy. With every new face, more of his personality surfaced, like he’d been waiting for an audience. He didn’t really want me. I was just second-rate whore territory.

I stood at his side, smiling politely when introduced, nodding at names I wouldn’t remember. My body felt present but distant, like I was slightly out of sync with myself. The music thudded against my ribs, the bass vibrating up through the floor, but it couldn’t drown out the unease crawling beneath my skin.

Every time I tried to shift, to create space, Carter pulled me back in tighter.

I focused on breathing slowly. This was my choice, I reminded myself bitterly. I’d wanted this, or at least I’d wanted what I thought this would give me, some kind of escape or validation that was starting to feel more like a trap the longer we stood here.

But all I could think about was Culver. The way his voice dropped when he was angry. The way he spoke my name like it meant something heavy and dangerous. The promise in his restraint, the tension he carried like a loaded weapon, made everything around me feel flat and wrong in comparison. Why did he have to be exactly what I thought he would be? Why couldn’t he have been different? My person, the one who just wanted me…

Even an hour into the chaos, my mind kept wandering back to Culver. I’d lost my pride where he was concerned and surrendered it piece by piece. I didn’t even regret it. He could unravel me with a look, making my “no” feel flimsy and negotiable, and I liked that about him. God help me, I loved it. Why, God, why? Why did he have to be so perfect and also the worst?

Carter leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he raised his voice over the music. “Let’s go somewhere a bit quieter, yeah?”

I smiled again, hollow and automatic, and nodded. Right now, all I could focus on was making it through the rest of the night without crumbling, telling myself over and over not to text Culver begging him to come get me, not to call and demand answers about the damn picture, and definitely not to let myself fall apart where anyone could see.

He guided us toward a quieter part of the house, and I let him. The crowd thinned, shadows stretching deeper as conversation replaced the pounding music. It had to be where his real friends were. I braced myself, rolling my shoulders back, setting my expression, and burying the discomfort somewhere deep enough to survive.

Carter lifted a hand in greeting, and I spotted them: three guys sprawled across an absurdly plush couch like they owned the place, beers in hand, legs wide, smiles already cocked and waiting.

“’Sup, Cart,” one of them called, barely glancing up.

Out of the corner of my eye, movement caught my attention. Breeanna slipped around the corner like a ghost, vanishing the second she saw us. My brows knit together. She didn’t acknowledge him or stir anything up. Instead, she hid. The unease tightened in my stomach, sharp and unwelcome.

I didn’t get time to sit with it.

Carter dropped onto the couch and yanked me down onto his lap before I could react, like I was just an accessory he’d picked up along the way.

Heat flared behind my eyes, the familiar burn building as I shifted uncomfortably and tried to slide away, but his arms locked around my waist with careless entitlement that made my skin crawl. I sure as hell hadn’t come here to be handled like some object. Not by him, and not by anyone else who thought they could just take what they wanted.

“So this is the bitch you were on about?” one of his friends laughed, elbowing Carter like it was praise.

Bitch?

My stomach churned, fury uncoiling slow and lethal. I forced myself not to snap. Instead, I turned my anger sharp and silent, digging my manicured nails into Carter’s hand until he flinched.

“I want another drink,” I hissed, my teeth clenched tight around the words.

Carter blinked, clearly thrown, but nodded anyway, scrambling to recover. “Yeah, got ya the perfect drink,” he muttered, glancing at his friend. “Tan, gimme yours.”

I didn’t look away from him. I wanted him to see it… the anger in my eyes, how done I already felt. When Tan handed over the cup, I ripped it from Carter’s grasp and downed it in one go. The liquid burned its way down, tasteless and harsh, and I slammed the empty cup onto the table like a dare.

If he thought one night meant ownership, that he could parade me like a trophy in front of his friends, he was delusional. I wasn’t his girl, and I sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s thing to show off. Honestly, I was already on the verge of texting Culver just to escape the whole mess.

“Ira’s the name,” the same guy who’d handed over the drink drawled, his smirk curling like he already had me figured out.