Beguile

Chapter 83

After Lucas stepped away from the podium, the lights dimmed, casting shadows across the room, and the murmur of conversation swelled. I couldn't shake the thought that he might still be lingering behind that podium, listening to every word. But those around me seemed oblivious to the possibility, lost in their own arrogance.

The two girls in front of me epitomized this arrogance perfectly. They were new here, yet they exuded an air of entitlement and disrespect that made my skin crawl.

"He's attractive," one of the girls whispered, her eyes fixated on the now-empty podium. "I could tell even with that mask."

"His voice is enough to send shivers down my spine," the other girl giggled. "I swear, I could climax just from hearing him whisper."

A wave of anger surged within me, but I clenched my fists tightly, concealing my emotions. "How could you say such to your masters?" I muttered under my breath, struggling to keep my voice steady.

The girls merely laughed, their disdain evident in their snickers, as if my words held no weight.

"There's nothing wrong with admiring him," one of the girls retorted, her tone dismissive. "If anything, it just shows our loyalty."

"You talk as if you could drug him and drag him to your bed under the guise of 'admiration,'" I shot back, unable to mask my disgust.

Their smirks faded, replaced by scowls that seemed to pulsate with anger.

"You act like you're not just as much of a whore," one of them spat, her words laced with venom. "We were being kind by not pointing out the evidence all over your neck—those hickeys."

"And those could only be from some old man you begged to let you in," the other added with a sneer. "Go on. Eat more so it wouldn't be a waste."

I sighed, feeling the weight of their accusations pressing down on me. "This will alll crumble if we continue like this," I murmured, more to myself than to them.

Suddenly, a firm grip landed on my shoulder, causing a sharp pang of pain from an old wound. "You say that as if you're hoping for it," she whispered menacingly into my ear. "I could easily accuse you of treason, and everyone would be baying for your blood."

"Hah!" I couldn't help but scoff at her bravado, though deep down, I knew there was some truth to her words. In this place, I was a stranger among strangers.

"Don't doubt me," she replied with a smirk, her tone dripping with confidence.

"I don't doubt a word you say," I retorted, though my words belied my uncertainty.

The girl chuckled darkly. "Do you want me to prove it? Shall I scream it out for all to hear, servant'?" She emphasized the word 'servant' with a hiss, as if it were a curse.

But deep down, I wanted her to make the attempt. I needed to see if these people were truly loyal or merely opportunists. So, I maintained my composure as I replied, "Go ahead and try. But remember, every action has its consequences. If you choose to play this dangerous game, be prepared for what unfolds next." My gaze remained steady, silently daring her to carry out her threat.

There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, as if she suddenly realized the gravity of her words. Slowly, she began to back away, a subtle acknowledgment of the line she was tiptoeing.

Meanwhile, the other girl's rage continued to simmer. "What is this bitch saying—" she started to protest, but her companion swiftly covered her mouth, her eyes widening in alarm as she glanced past me.

Before I could turn around, a voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Bitch?" The word dripped with venom, and I spun around to face Kurt. Unlike Lucas, he wore no mask, his face unapologetically exposed to the room.

Instantly, the atmosphere shifted. People recoiled from him, their expressions a mix of anger, greed, and fear.

"What bitch are you talking to?" Kurt's voice was low and dangerous, his eyes fixed on the two girls as if they were prey.

"Sir..." They both lowered their gazes, not out of respect, but out of fear. Their eyes darted nervously towards the bottle of wine clutched in Kurt's hand, a silent reminder of his power.

Even in this setting, it was evident how volatile Kurt could be, his temper simmering just below the surface.

"We were just speaking to this servant and—" one of the girls attempted to explain, but Kurt's interruption cut through the air like a thunderclap.

"Servant?" His gaze shifted to me, and his eyes blazed with fury, bloodshot and intense. "Her? A servant?"

"I-I..." the girl stuttered, cowed by Kurt's sudden outburst.

"I'm not talking to you," Kurt's voice reverberated through the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. He turned back to me, his glare piercing like daggers. "And you, what are you doing here?"

His gaze bore into me like searing lasers, and the murmurs around us intensified, turning into a cacophony of speculation about my identity.

"Let's discuss this elsewhere," I suggested, turning to leave, hoping to escape the escalating tension. But Kurt's grip on my wrist halted my retreat, his hold firm and unyielding.

He pulled me closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Trying to slip away, are you?" The venom in his tone sent shivers down my spine.

A surge of defiance coursed through me as I swiftly swatted his hand aside, meeting his gaze head-on. The room fell into a stunned silence, anticipating an eruption from Kurt that never came. "Not here," I declared firmly.

Though his jaw tightened with evident frustration, Kurt restrained himself from lashing out but as I walked away, I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull, ensuring that I remained within his sight.