Secret Heir (Dynasty #1)(27)

With the anger and adrenaline gone, I’m exhausted as hell and I want nothing more than to hide in my room forever. But the bass pounding through the very foundations of Sovereign Hall and the music blaring out at a merciless volume, makes sleep impossible. I don’t know how it’s even possible to hear the music from downstairs, when all the walls in the place seem to be made of marble.

I twist and turn on my bed for what seems like hours, although my bedside clock tells me it’s only been twenty minutes since I climbed into bed. Maybe it’s because with each passing minute I can feel the anger returning. Anger aimed at one person in particular.

I don’t know what compels me to leave my room. But I only know that I can’t stand to be in my room a moment longer, my walls plastered with images of tits and ass. A reminder of what these people clearly think of me.

A part of me knows that it’s also because staying hidden in my room like some kind of shameful secret is just what Raph wants. He gave his orders and he expects me to obey. But I’m not one of his little subjects and he has another think coming if he’s expecting to be able to lord over me, like he seems to over every other person in this goddamn place.

I’m already immersed in the sea of bodies crowding the entrance hall when I realize that I didn’t even bother to get changed. I’m still in my sleep shorts and vest. But it’s quickly apparent that I’m showing far less skin than most of the people at the party.

Sovereign Hall is heaving with people. Everyone on campus seems to be here tonight, or at least those popular enough to be invited, and everyone looks like they’re dressed to go to a beach party, where there’ll be a swimsuit competition taking place, instead of a house party. But of course, this isn’t any normal house party. It’s a goddamn mansion and of course, there’s an indoor pool the size of a tennis court.

I expect to slip through the crowd unnoticed. Everyone is either too busy getting wasted on the dance floor, or making out on every available surface. But I’m sadly mistaken. I can feel eyes on me as I pass, people visibly backing away. I couldn’t care less and in fact, I’m glad. It makes it far easier to cross the packed hall when the crowd parts like the red sea for me.

I find myself at the sweeping marble topped bar in the natatorium and I ignore everyone and everything as I perch on one of the bar stools and proceed to pour myself a drink. Thankfully, the bar is all but deserted.

I realize that this is my very first high school party. Not much of a first, but I drink a bitter toast to that. It seems that alcohol tastes the same even in Eden, and I drink another toast to that.

I scan my surroundings, and it’s clear what goes down in these parties—making out. Lots of it.

Members of the soccer team paired off with one, or more, scantily-clad girls, doing god knows what, and it’s everywhere I look. Not just in the dark corners of the hall.

The Dynasty heirs are easy to spot, even among the heaving crowd. Even with the excessive wealth and opulence surrounding this place, they stand out as the most privileged of them all. The most beautiful. The most powerful.

That distinct air of power and cruel beauty makes them utterly unapproachable. Unattainable. But all eyes are drawn to them, like moths to a goddamn flame. Those privileged enough to associate with them, hover close by, but not close enough to truly be a part of their world. They own this place, they’re the very reason why everyone is here tonight. All desperate for even a single look, a word, from one of the Dynasty heirs. And it makes me sick.

I see the queen bitch herself standing with Keller and Ivy, along with a group of girls I recognize from their oh so popular lunch table. They’re surrounded by guys from the soccer team who seem utterly enthralled by these stunningly beautiful girls.

Layla eyes me with distaste as she notices me across the natatorium. As if my very presence is equivalent to a stray animal wondering into the party; and it’s clear from the look on her face, that she can’t quite believe said animal would even dare to show its face. Keller follows her line of sight and the look on her face is equally disbelieving. Clearly disobeying the royal asshole’s orders is something entirely alien to these people.

My eyes travel to where Lance is standing with Baron by the pool edge. Again, both are surrounded by the opposite sex.

I almost roll my eyes at the cliché of it all. But then my gaze falls on something, or more accurately, someone, that makes me regret my decision to come down here at all.

Raph is lounging on one of the poolside recliners, surrounded by what looks like a cast of teen supermodels, all clearly on the list of the most beautiful girls on campus. Although, Raph, too, looks like he’s just walked off the runway of some international fashion show. That, or off the cover of some goddamn magazine. It’s sickening as hell, but I can’t seem to look away.

He has one girl pressed to each side of him, whilst two other girls dance with each other in front of him. Actually, dancing is a polite way of putting it, because they’re more like grinding. Dirty grinding, which given the fact that they’re both wearing string bikinis, makes it akin to stripping. The only thing missing is the pole. Christ, and they think I’m the stripper.

My gaze flicks to Layla momentarily and needless to say, her expression is one of pure venom as she watches her betrothed acting not so betrothed, although unlike the cafeteria scene earlier, she doesn’t make a move to stop him.

The entire scene makes me sick to my stomach and it’s a wonder I’m able to keep my drink down.