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I was a mess. I couldn’t even think about Valen without my clit tingling and my stomach twisting in desire. The things he’d done to me. The things I knew he could – would – still do to me. If only I let him.
By Sunday, I’d mostly discounted whatever he and Apollo had talked about on Wednesday night as nothing more than a follow on from Archer’s announcement at breakfast. Of course Apollo was thinking about us when his father was making him. Deep down – way deep down – Apollo was a good guy and he’d want to be in love with me if he could. How unfortunate then that we couldn’t just be in love with whoever we wanted.
One thing it had made obvious was that I couldn’t keep up whatever I was doing with Valen. I’d have to stop at some point, so it might as well be now. While I could still walk away with some dignity in tact. Not that my clit much liked that decision.
Thankfully, Florence was there and trying to take my mind off it all as well as she was able as we got ready for the Halloween party.
“One more vine?” she asked me from over by the mirror.
I looked at her. “Huh?”
She looked back at me and saw me with my fingers on the doorknob. She grinned. “Where are you going?”
“To get us some drinks. Fuck knows I need many.”
She snorted. “You don’t need any to end up in a cupboard with Valen,” she reminded me. “But many may lead you to other places with him.”
My fingers fell. “Because that’s just what I need…” I muttered.
She laughed. “No. But we do both need drinks. And you can go and perve on Valen while you’re there.”
“That is definitely, totally not…” I sighed. “Exactly what I was going to do. Ugh. What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re finally getting some and it’sah-mazing,” Florence laughed.
“Shut up.”
“Drinks,” she reminded me as she went back to arranging her hair for her costume.
Mine was still sitting in its bag on the hook of my wardrobe door. I’d not even looked at it yet since it had arrived from the tailor, and told Florence she wasn’t allowed either. Still, the boys were usually half-dressed – and half-drunk – by now so I might get an idea of what was in store for me if I saw Apollo.
As I walked out of my room, I bumped into Marco.
“Heya, missus,” he chuckled as he jumped out of my way, and I did a double take.
His hair was sticking straight up. He wore all black; jeans, short-sleeved tee, boots. His eyes were outlined heavily with black eyeliner. And his hair was blacker than usual.
“Marco,” I said with a nod.
“Can I get ye anything?” he asked, his accent always stronger when he’d been drinking.
“Just getting a drink for me and Florence.”
He grinned cheekily. “Ah, the delectable Florence. And what’s she coming as tonight, might I ask?”
I looked him over, not even sure that counted as a costume. “And what are you? A My Chemical Romance reject circa 2004?” I snarked.
His grin widened. “Oh, sass,” he cooed. “God said you were getting a spine. It does look lovely on ye, missus.”
“Watch yourself, Marco,” I warned him.
He looked me up and down. “And what are you tonight?”
“Undressed,” I told him as we made our way to the rumpus room.
That floor of that wing housed my, Apollo’s and Valen’s rooms – thankfully all with ensuites – a spare room, a bathroom, and a lounge complete with kitchenette for drinks and snacks to save us trooping to the main kitchen constantly.
“Cheeky,” Marco warned. “I don’t think God will look kindly on people seeing his missus in all her glory.”
