Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(10)

Charity followed her gaze, taking in the room. Guys and gals, all of them close in age to Charity and Samantha, gathered around an island in a sea of granite. An elegant crystal bowl of punch rested in the middle of the counter. Five or so people hovered around with their goblets, laughing nervously while shooting furtive glances at the beautiful people around them.

“Well, I’ll be. Devon was right. Punch? What are we, at a high school dance in 1982?” Charity asked, also glancing at the devastatingly handsome and beautiful people around the periphery of the room. Their suits and dresses fit their fantastic bodies perfectly, and each had glittering accessories to match—jewelry for the women and cufflinks for the men. They stood at ease in groups of two or three, chatting with one another but often not facing one another. Their attention was instead fixed on the slightly younger and definitely less polished group around the punch bowl. It was like they were at a dance and awkwardly waiting for members of the opposite sex to ask them for a dance.

“It is like high school,” Charity said. “I hated high school.”

“That’s because you were a nerd.”

“Nope. It was because I was labeled a poor, stinky kid who ate garbage and lived on the other side of the tracks.”

“Gross. T-M-I.”

“Awesome. I knew you’d lend a compassionate ear. I did shower, by the way. Anyway, why doesn’t anyone on the perimeter of the room have a drink?” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, “Do you think Devon was right about it being spiked? Also, isn’t it odd that we’re standing here, staring at everyone?”

“You’re staring. I’m taking it all in.”

“Yes, right. Clearly different.”

“The punch is obviously just spiked with alcohol or people would already be acting weird,” Sam said to herself, chuckling a little. “Devon was a little too dramatic in his scare tactics. I need to start mingling before he gets here. He’ll want me more if someone else has my interest.”

“Aren’t these parties supposed to have kegs and cans of beer and shots of tequila? I mean…punch?”

“It’s classy. Come on.” Samantha started forward, graceful despite those huge heels.

Charity clattered after her like a newborn colt just learning to walk. “Why do people wear shoes this tall? They are horribly uncomfortable.”

Samantha smiled at a decent-looking guy with a slouch and an expensive watch. He nodded in hello and scooted to the side, making room for the new additions.

“Hi,” Sam said to a girl with airbrushed makeup as she grabbed a goblet from a silver platter. She shifted her gaze back to the people arrayed around the edges of the room. They all had flawless skin, like the other two people Charity had seen upon entering the mansion. Their unblinking stares focused on the kids with the punch. It was like they were waiting for something.

The shrooms to kick in, perhaps? Maybe their next line of coke?

With their effortless perfection and mannequin-like poise, they had to be models. At least, most of them did. They’d clearly been brought in to give the party some flare. There was no other explanation. Given punch was full of sugar, and these people were all slim and muscular, perfectly defined, Charity would bet they were seeing purple elephants and short men with green hair. No wonder they weren’t revolting over the lack of drink options—the drugs were keeping them plenty busy.

Charity started as crystal was thrust at her. She glanced at the thruster, a platinum-blonde girl in her mid-twenties with a fierce scowl.

“No, I’m okay,” Charity said. “I think the side effect to punch might be scowling a lot…”

The scowl strengthened.

Don’t tease the rich people, Charity.

The girl shifted her scowl to Sam, who was just realizing something was amiss.

“Charity!” Samantha whispered. “You need to drink or you’ll look ridiculous.”

“Nice attempt at peer pressure, Sam, but I will look ridiculous regardless. How is an expensive glass going to help?” She took the goblet anyway. As soon as possible, she’d pour out the contents and refill it with water. It would be the fastest way to keep Sam off her back.

“So this is cool, right?” Samantha asked, stepping away from the others to put herself on display. Two of the pretty lurkers zeroed in on her. “Kind of a small, elite group. I haven’t seen most of these people before—they’re hot, though. Speaking of hot…”

Charity followed her gaze across the huge space. A guy with a half-filled goblet stood near the sliding glass door. His powder-blue shirt, collar popped, went perfectly with his Euro-style jeans. His runners were bright red to match his watch.

Her heart clattered around in her ribs.

Donnie!

His gaze was attached to the ruby-red, pouty lips belonging to a beautiful dirty-blonde woman.

“Hmmm, this is good!” Sam whispered in rapture, looking down at her drink.

Charity glanced down at her own beverage, finding an ice cube swimming tranquilly within the pink punch. Ignoring it, she said, “Doesn’t everyone here seem almost…too attractive? Like, all of their skin is…pore-less.”

“Too attractive?” Samantha scoffed before taking a huge, and not very ladylike, gulp of her drink. She dabbed the moisture off her lips with a dainty finger. “Are you serious right now? As if there is such a thing. No flaws are good, Charity. Probably plastic surgery.”