Chapter Twelve

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Word Count: 2076

~Alaya

From what I remember, the party is significantly different from last year.

My gaze first found the feature in the centre. A giant tower of champagne glasses drenched in a constant flow of glistening golden alcohol. People stood around it, admiring the extravagance of it all. Then I drank in the sight of the people, each adorned in obsidian suits and glistening silver dresses.

I felt like an opposing force against an army of wealth. I'm dressed in gold.

People stare. Some bitter, some envious, some acquisitive. The focus of the room is suddenly on me, and I'm suddenly unsure of what to do with myself.

I look around at the rest of the room, from the sloping ceiling to the mezzanine floor, and down the sweeping staircase to the Guards at the foot. Even their jackets were threaded with silver, the embellishment on the front not gold, as it usually is. The rest of the trimmings and features to decorate are gold, like me. I'm like a part of the room. If I only I could melt into the walls behind me.

Is this his way of singling me out? The author of the note?

Keeping close to the wall, I emerge from the tenacious gazes, heading toward the food table. Again. For the third party in a row. No one is here, at least. Everyone is on the floor dancing, having taken their eyes off me. I disregard the few lingering gazes and hushed whispers.

Everyone is wondering what made me special enough to get a golden dress.

I was leaning over to a small pastry, trying to avoid that special drink - I need a clear mind to accomplish this - when I felt someone's hand on my hip. I gasp at the dig of sharp fingers on my waist, above my hip. Twisting around, I'm facing with a leery looking stranger, a drunken glaze over his eyes.

That wasn't the only indication I had that he was intoxicated. You could see it in the slope of his groggy smile, and smell the tang of it on his breath. I want away from him.

Before he can utter a single word, I sink deep into a throng of people, breaking the dance sequence with my frantic movements. People stare and whisper as I pace, each trying to keep an inch between us. I need to get up the stairs. I need to find Asher.

All of a sudden, another pair of hands were on my waist. This time, though, it's different.

The gentle pressure resonates through the skin of my dress, my back arching slightly in response. The crest of their jacket was against sloping back of my dress. My heart jolted at the feeling. My attempts to turn around were tarnished by the sudden handle this person had no, keeping my hips completely still.

"Don't turn around, my girl," he says softly in my ear. My entire body concentrated on every ounce of sweetness in his voice, the familiarity of it somewhere back deep at the back of my mind. As much as I tried to scratch at it, nothing would come to me.

"Why?" My voice shudders.

The man sways me gently. His proximity isn't repulsive. It doesn't make me nervous. I feel an edge of contentment, as I unintentionally lean back, my body reacting to every movement he made. This man could be anyone; perhaps a drunken male trying to take advantage of me. No, this is the opposite.

Alpha Asher | Completed ✔️Where stories live. Discover now