The Heir (The Selection #4)(47)

Jack seemed to enjoy it, but I was bored. If Super Blonde had killed someone, I might have cared a little more.

But at least we didn’t have to talk.

When the credits rolled, I used the remote to raise the lights.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

“It was okay. Definitely seen better.”

The movie seemed to leave him hyperanimated. “But the effects were incredible!”

“Sure, but the story was tired.”

He squinted his eyes. “I liked it.”

“All right.”

“Does that make you upset?”

I made a face. “No. It just means you have bad taste.”

He laughed, a dark sound that was more foreboding than friendly. “I love it when you do that.”

“Do what?” I stood and took my popcorn bowl to the counter, leaving it for the staff.

“I’ve been waiting all night for a little of your attitude.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been hoping you’d get mad or snippy.” He brought his bowl over, too. “When you cleared out the Men’s Parlor the day after the parade? That was great. I mean, I don’t want to go home, but I wouldn’t be devastated if you yelled at me.”

I stared at him. “Jack, you do realize we’ve hardly spoken to each other, and in the first conversation we have, you reveal that my anger turns you on. Do you see how this might be a lapse in judgment on your part?”

He broke into a smile, undeterred. “I thought you’d appreciate my honesty. I have the feeling you get irritated easily, and I want you to know that doesn’t bother me. I actually like it.”

Jack reached for my hand, and I ripped it away. “You thought wrong. This date is over. Goodnight.”

He caught up to me, grabbing me again. I didn’t want to admit how scared I was, but I could feel the icy strands of fear pulsing through my veins. He was bigger than me, and he seemed to enjoy a fight.

“Don’t run off,” he said silkily. “I’m only trying to tell you that I think I could be a good fit for you, an easy match.” He ran his fingers down my cheek and under my jaw. His breathing was speeding up, and I knew I couldn’t waste time. I had to get out of here now.

I squinted my eyes. “And I’m only trying to tell you that if you don’t remove your hand, you will be dead before you could be a match for anyone.”

“Hot.” He smirked, seeming to think I was enjoying this. “This is a fun little game.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

He loosened his hand, but I could still see the wild excitement in his eyes. “This was fun. Let’s do it again soon.”

I went for the stairs, praying he wouldn’t chase me. From this second forward, there would be cameras on every. Single. Date.

When I made my way breathlessly to the first floor, I found a pair of officers and ran straight to them.

“Your Highness,” the first gasped as I fell into his arms.

“Get him out of here!” I insisted, pointing toward the stairs. “Jack! Get him out of my house!”

The guards let me go, sprinting to capture him, and I cowered on the floor, petrified.

“Eadlyn?”

Just behind me, Ahren was approaching. I let out a cry and bolted into his embrace.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It was Jack,” I stammered. “He grabbed my arm. He touched me.” I shook my head, trying to understand how it escalated so quickly, only then seeing it hadn’t been fast at all.

He was often watching me, never approaching, quietly biding his time. Even tonight his moves were slow, watching my rising frustration with a reserved thrill of energy, enjoying the building tension until the moment of release.

“He kept saying strange things, and the way he looked at me . . . Ahren, I’ve never been so scared.”

We both turned at the uproar coming up the stairs. The two guards were wrestling with Jack, getting him up to the landing. Once his eyes fell on me, he began snarling.

“You liked it!” he insisted. “You were coming on to me!”

Grabbing my hand, Ahren pulled me over to Jack, though my instinct was to run in the other direction. He planted me right in front of Jack’s face.

“Knock his lights out, Eadlyn,” Ahren commanded. I stared up at him, thinking it was a joke. But the rage in his eyes told me otherwise.

I was tempted. I couldn’t retaliate when people called me names or criticized my clothes. I couldn’t go back to the parade and tell all those people how foolishly they’d acted. But here, for once, I could take revenge on someone who’d truly wronged me.

I might have done it if it wasn’t for Jack’s wicked grin, like he hoped I would, like he’d dream about the touch later. Sex and violence were connected in his head, and to give him one was close to giving the other.

“I can’t,” I whispered.

Jack gave a fake pout. “You sure, sweetie? I wouldn’t mi—”

I’d never seen Ahren throw a punch before. It was almost as shocking as Jack’s limp body after my brother’s fist forced his head to whip back at an awkward angle.

Ahren grunted, holding his hand. “That hurts! Ow, that really hurts!”