Page 80 of Twisting Beauty

Through the flames, Lorcan’s eyes were already on me. He hadn’t moved. The cigarette was gone, both hands in his pockets now, as he watched me through the firelight, his face giving absolutely nothing away.

I had the stupid urge to turn, to hold up my skirts as if to say, See, I wore it.

I held his look, searching those cold eyes for approval or contempt or anything. He gave me nothing.

Rafe leaned in and thumped Lorcan’s shoulder, laughing at something he’d just said.

A thud landed on my own shoulder, hard enough that I flinched and my hand flew up to the ghost bruise.

Fuck. Not again. Not here.

I tried to make it look like I was just adjusting the strap of my dress.

But Lorcan had seen.

His gaze dropped to my shoulder, and now it was lifting back to my face, slow and considering.

He turned his head to answer Rafe, his mouth moving with whatever he was saying. But his eyes never left mine.

He thumped Rafe back on the shoulder, his fingers landing flat against the dark fabric of his friend’s jacket.

Across the fire, the corner of Lorcan’s mouth lifted. Just a fraction. Not a smile. The quiet face of a man whose theory had just held.

A cold wave of realization washed over me.

He just tested me.

He had felt his shoulder get hit and watched my body answer. Then he had hit someone else and watched my body do nothing. Deargán had experimented on me, too, before he used my mirror-touch reaction to him against me.

Fuck. And now Lorcan knew.

My jaw was tight when I looked away.

“Christ on a stick.” Nuala breathed, her attention cutting past my shoulder.

Bridgit was moving through the crowd toward Elias—or trying to. Her path kept wavering, each step a little off, her body swaying like the ground wasn’t holding still under her. One strap of her dress had slipped and her lipstick had rubbed away at one corner of her mouth. Her eyes were glassy and overbright, fixed on Elias with stubborn, messy determination.

“Is she okay?” I asked, though I already knew she wasn’t.

Nuala was already moving. She stepped out and caught Bridgit’s arm gently, angling her away from Elias’s orbit. “Hey, B. Come chill with us.”

I came around to Bridgit’s other side, looping my arm through hers before she could break away. “Yeah, you have to tell me where you got your dress.”

Nuala shot me a grateful look over her sister’s head.

But Bridgit’s eyes stayed on Elias across the fire, where he was standing close to another student, laughing at something she’d said, his hand at the small of her back, his eyes shamelessly aimed down her low-cut top.

“He s-said I was s-special,” Bridgit said, her bottom lip trembling.

Nuala’s expression went flat, her lips pressed hard as she shot Elias a glare. “I’ll kill the bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

Finn didn’t say anything. He simply shifted, repositioning himself between Bridgit and Elias, his broad torso sliding into her sightline, blocking him from her sight.

Bridgit had stopped straining to look past him. Her voice dropped low and loose, the words slipping over each other.

“They’re on me,” she muttered, dragging a hand over her bare arm like she was trying to brush something off. “I can’t make it stop.”

Nuala’s grip tightened on her arm.