AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t love the idea of something impairing my inhibitions, but I smile at him in thanks and try to ignore the feelings coursing through me at his proximity. Before I have a chance to respond, he pulls me toward the back, where I had seen the thinly veiled tables. As we walk, I glance at everyone we pass, curious if others will catch on that I’m not meant to be here.
However, this doesn’t happen. Arman seems to bring more attention than I expected, but not in a bad way. As we pass, humans and Dark Elders alike look toward him and bow their head in greeting. A bit odd, but I try not to question it too much. Better than negative attention, as I had expected.
I grip Arman’s hand tighter as I begin to feel a bit nervous about being around so many Dark Elders. Those same frightening Society stories start circulating in my head, but the other Dark Elders don’t even blink at my presence. They simply offer me the same treatment that they offer to Arman, much to my surprise. I start to calm, curiosity getting the best of me. Who is Arman, to command such respect?
He pulls me gently by the hand to a curved booth with a small, round table in the back of the room, a spot perfectly placed to watch others but keep a sense of privacy for us. I notice that the booth still has that eerie veiled look about it until we sit down, making me realize that it must also be laced with magic. Thebooth is small enough that when we sit, our thighs are pressed against one another’s. Again, I feel grateful for the calming air.
Before we have a chance to talk, a bartender comes to our table to take our order. He smiles toward us both, before focusing on Arman. “Good evening, King Arman. What can I get started for you?”
Wait.KingArman? Even the air can’t keep me from feeling like the ground has given out from under me. He’s aking?
He senses the change in me, and his eyes flick briefly to mine, and then he turns to the bartender with a pleasant smile. “I’ll have an old fashioned. Thank you, Syrian.” He turns toward me. “Syrian is a top ranked mixologist; he can make anything you’d like.”
I look toward Syrian and notice how he glances down bashfully. Clearly Arman has this effect on everyone.
“I appreciate your kind words.” He turns toward me, smile back on his face. “What can I get for you?”
I try to clear the cloudiness in my mind so that I can focus on the question. “Um…same for me, thanks so much.” I give Syrian the same polite smile as Arman and I watch as he walks away with our order.
“You can ask.”
I turn my head to Arman, who is already looking at me with expectation. Of course, I want to know about the whole “king” thing, and if he’s not going to give me answers regarding our connection then I might as well start there. “You’re a king?” I ask apprehensively.
He nods, placing an arm along the back of the booth, inches from my shoulders, and looks out at the crowd. “I am. Of course, I’m not the only one. But one of the kings, yes.”
Right. We learn about Dark Elder hierarchy in our 10thyear history class. There are five kings, but they are not split into territories. The kings work together and instead rule overspecific industries of the same territory. Each king also has multiple Dark Elders under them, who help run the day-to-day business. Humans are also employed by the kings, but not placed in the hierarchy.
Arman is one of those kings. I am sitting at a table in a club with aking,Dark Elder or not. Suddenly, I feel insecure. What could a Dark Elder, let alone a Dark Elderking, possibly want with me? Who am I to pique the interest of someone of such esteemed stature?
My emotions must be plastered on my face because he moves the hand on the back of the booth to my neck, gently guiding me to look toward him. “It’s just a title, and certainly one you are worthy of.”
The tender tone of his voice makes my heart skip a beat as much as his words do. I can feel my pulse throbbing, very aware of his hand still on my person. Despite this, I’m still confused on how he is so sure. I look into his eyes, searching, and murmur, “How can you possibly know that? How do you know me?”
“Amelia…” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as his eyes roam over my face with clear affection.
I know that if the air wasn’t helping to calm me, I would be close to tears, overwhelmed with emotion. A man has never looked at me the way Arman is looking at me right now. It takes everything in me to not burrow myself into his side, losing myself in his clear affection. Despite how he’s making me feel, it just doesn’t make sense.
“How, Arman?” My voice is as low as his, as if I don’t want to break whatever spell we’re under.
He brings a hand up to my cheek, stroking lightly, and holds my gaze. “I will tell you, I promise. Let us just have this one night where we enjoy each other, and I promise you that the next time you come I will tell you everything.”
I barely notice our drinks being set down as I search his face, looking for any signs of dishonesty. I find none, only that same affection he’s maintained since we sat down. I nod, not trusting my voice, and lean into his hand, allowing my eyes to fall shut. When his hand falls from my face, I slowly open my eyes and smile sweetly toward him, picking up my drink.
He’ll tell me. I know he will.
~ ~·~ ~
Once I’m back within the Society’s borders, I let out a long breath and slide down the nearest tree. I feel Olivia’s worried gaze on me, but I’m not ready to talk. This encounter has caused more confusion than all the others combined.
But has it really? Is it confusion that I feel, or fear over the fact that the confusion is transforming into something else?
Suddenly, I’m thinking about my father. My wonderful, stubborn, rule-abiding father. He would be so disappointed if he could see me right now.
After a few minutes, Olivia crouches in front of me and rubs my arm, apprehension in her eyes. “It’s been nearly two hours; I was about to come in there after you. What happened?”
I look toward her, and instantly regret it because I see her expression transform into understanding. She leans forward and hugs me, which I gratefully fall into.
I let out a long, shaky breath, as I cling to her. “I’m fucked, Liv. I don’t know what to do. I’mfucked.” I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel Olivia’s shirt dampen under my chin.
