Page 112 of Twisting Beauty

LIATH

Across the room, Lorcan and Deargán stood together. Neither looked relaxed. Both looked like they were seconds away from lunging at each other.

This was a disaster.

I needed to get there before one of them did something that unraveled everything, but I couldn’t just cut across the room, not with Alistair’s hand still at the small of my back.

A sharp laugh drew my attention to a cluster of men sitting along an overstuffed coach, a girl draped across their laps, her head lolling, her dress askew. Their hands were all over her, groping her like she was livestock. Her eyes were open, wide and completely empty, staring through the ceiling like she’d checked out of her own body.

Oh God. I knew her.

From the Special Ward. The girl who had pointed straight at me.

The meaning of it started to uncoil inside me and I turned away before I had to look at it head-on.

“Fresh stock?” one of the guests talking to Alister murmured.

Alistair’s laugh came easy and warm. “Entertainment. Enjoy.”

My stomach curdled.

Around me, not a single man flinched. No one looked surprised.

I swallowed down the scream as I scanned the room, looking at all the girls. Suddenly, their glassy eyes came into focus.

Oh fuck. They’d all been sedated.

Then my eyes caught on a familiar face.

Maeve.

Half-slumped against the bar, a few feet from the chaos of the party, pale despite her heavy makeup, like someone had draped her there as decoration. Her eyes were glazed, fixed on nothing.

The sweet girl with doe eyes who’d offered me forbidden sugar, who’d been locked away in the Special Ward, was standing in this drawing room in a too-short dress, barely present in her own body.

Oh God. Maeve.

I swallowed down my panic and forced an apologetic smile on my face. “Would you excuse me?” I said to Alistair. “I see someone in need of another drink.”

He let me go with an approving nod.

I aimed for the bar, walking up next to her, conscious of eyes on me. I leaned against the bar and made a show of picking out glasses, examining whiskey labels, for the benefit of anyone watching.

“Maeve,” I hissed low out of the corner of my mouth.

Her head turned toward me, slowly like she was moving through water. Then her eyes found mine and something in them flared back to life. Her hand found my arm, clumsy and gripping. “Help me.”

The guilt hit me somewhere below the sternum, sharp and mean. I had to do something. I couldn’t let them take her back.

“Wait here.”

I moved back into the crowd, my mind running fast under the fixed smile, and I aimed for Lorcan and Deargán.

“Pardon me, Mr. Mikhailov.” I arrived at Deargán’s elbow with a pleasant smile and a slight incline of my head. “Our host would like me to introduce you to one of our girls.”

I felt Lorcan’s eyes on me like a hand at the side of my face, but I ignored him.

I indicated for Deargán to follow. He did.